Free Singled Out by Sara Griffiths Page A

You just have to figure out what to do about it.”
    I didn’t know what to say.
    “So make a plan for yourself. Figure out how to bring those grades up, starting right now. Go see you teachers, and sign up for tutoring, but don’t waste any time. Do something now.”
    “Okay, I will.” But to be honest, I didn’t know the first thing about buckling down and studying. I thought I had been studying these past two months, but I guess I wasn’t very good at it. I was good at throwing curve balls. Couldn’t they grade me on that instead?
    I sulked around in my room for the next few hours. I was failing. All the boys at school had started their plan to get me thrown out. I was too tired to go for a run. I had bags underneath my eyes—at seventeen! Life sucked.
    Unwilling to wait for the next bad thing to happen, I grabbed my Trig book, threw it into my book bag, and headedover to the library. Me at the library on a Saturday? How wild was that? Well, these were desperate times.
    I found a place in the library’s back corner. It was a big wooden desk with shelves above it, all of which created my own private cubicle. I would learn this stuff somehow, I thought, opening my notebook and the book.
    Suddenly, it was hard to focus. Too much going on in my head. I wondered how many people knew about last night. I was sure Sam had told everyone. Hopefully, one of those people was not the headmaster.
    Then someone dropped some books down on the other side of the desk I was using. After a few minutes, a small, folded-up piece of paper came over the top of the shelves. I was dumbfounded. I sat back in my chair, afraid to touch it. Who was passing notes to me? No one talked to me. I wasn’t sure if I should pretend it wasn’t there or if I should read it. But I was dying to know what it said.
    I opened the note: “I need to talk to you. I need to explain what happened last night.”
    I pulled my Yankees hat down a little. I slowly stood up and looked over the top of the shelves. I saw the top of Sam Barrett’s head. He was pretending to read. Ugh, Barrett. I am not going to talk to that piece of crap. Ever.
    I grabbed my book and bag and quickly made for the exit in the back of the library. But before the door closed completely, there was Barrett, right on my heels.
    “Dresden, wait,” he said, only slightly louder than a whisper.
    I kept moving up the hill toward the tunnel that went under the dorms. He followed. He ran ahead and stood in front of me, blocking my way out of the tunnel.
    “Please, give me a minute to explain. I’m trying to help.”
    I laughed. “Help. Right. Why the hell would I believe you?”
    “I know you have no reason to, but I’m telling the truth.”
    I sneered at him. “I know the truth, Sam. I know what you did to Gabby. And I know what you’re trying to do to me. Now get out of my way.” I would hit him if I had to. I had no qualms about clocking him to get by. I moved to the right and he moved with me.
    “Just give me a chance, okay? Will it kill you to listen to me for one minute?” he asked, resuming his position in front of me.
    “It’s hard for me to give a minute to someone who had a hand in drugging me last night,” I said, throwing a shoulder into him and moving him out of the way.
    He grabbed me by the arm and spun me around. “I didn’t drug you, Taylor.”
    “Then who did?!” I shouted, shaking my arm free.
    “That’s not important.”
    “It is to me.”
    “Listen, what’s important is their plan didn’t work.”
    “Whose plan?” I crossed my arms and finally stopped moving. Now I was curious.
    He hesitated. “The Statesmen’s,” he said after a sigh.
    “Who the hell are the Statesmen?”
    “They’re the guys who kind of run things around here— Tuttle, Briggs, Grossman, Phillips, a lot of guys.”
    “I was in the tunnel when you were celebrating your success in framing Gabby,” I said. “I assumed you were part of that group.”
    “You heard that?” he