Free B00B9FX0MA EBOK by Anna Davies Page A

still a hipster?”
    “What?” Adam asked irritatedly, causing the is-he-or-isn’t-he-a-hipster to glance up. “That’s a ridiculous question. Ask me something real!”
    “Um, okay …” I shuffled through the packet Mr. Klish gave us. Trace how the industrial revolution is responsible for social media. Maybe. In a century, what national or international event will most likely be artistically commemorated on a continual basis? Maybe.
    “Come on!” Adam urged. “I want to get at least three more questions.”
    “All right. Um, is it possible for someone to suddenly find him or herself attracted to someone they’d never noticed before? And compare the concept to, uh, the theory of relativity,” I finished lamely.
    Adam peered at me dubiously over his glasses. “Is that question in the packet?”
    “No,” I admitted.
    “Come on. Give me a real one!” Adam took one of the cookies from the plate in the center of the table. I grabbed one as well. “Arts and Sciences, please.”
    “Okay, Mr. Trivial Pursuit.” I flipped through the packet. He chuckled. We were acting just like we had when we were debate partners, before all the Ainsworth stuff had come between us. It was weird. It was nice.
    Just then, my phone buzzed, skittering across the table.
    There was a text, from an unfamiliar number.
    All work and no play…. It won’t make me go away.
    My heart thudded against my rib cage.
    PS: You give Keely way too much credit.
    I quickly pressed delete.
    “What was that?”
    I shook my head. “Nothing.”
    “Really? It doesn’t seem like nothing.”
    “It was just a random text. Like an automated spam thing.” I shoved my phone into my bag.
    “Anyway, here’s one. If ancient Rome had television, what would the top five reality programs be, and why?” I asked quickly.
    “Well, clearly, the Colosseum was a cultural center, so there’d be something about that. But do you think the committee wants to subdivide within gladiator programs? Like, Soldiers of Style could work, since that would speak to Rome’s interest in textiles,” Adam said, allowing me to zone out.
    But just then, the door to the café opened and Jess walked in with her boyfriend, Robbie. Robbie was a skinny, bearded junior whose interests seemed to be Hacky Sack, incense, and Phish.
    Instead of heading to the counter, Jess came up to my table.
    “Hey,” she said, but not in a friendly way.
    “Hey, Jess,” I said coolly.
    “I’m surprised you’re here,” she said.
    “Really?” I asked, immediately on edge. “Where did you think I’d be?” I could sense Robbie and Adam both looking back and forth between us, as though we were playing an invisible tennis match.
    “Partying,” Jessica said smoothly. “You certainly talk about it a lot, at least. And I wonder what Mr. Klish would think of your extracurricular activities,” she said.
    My blood turned to ice.
    “What do you mean?” I asked, forcing my voice to stay calm.
    “Your Facebook page,” she said. She pulled out her iPhone and quickly scrolled, then shoved the phone in my face.
    The profile was back. Or rather, I was back. It was a photo from last night, where I was standing next to Matt, one bottle in each hand. Except this time, it was me . It was taken in the half a second before I’d put the drinks on the ground, before the collision, before he’d asked if Adam was my boyfriend, before Erin had led him away. The flash from the bushes. The pain radiating behind my eye sockets. That moment.
    “You took that picture,” I realized slowly. “You’d been watching me.” Of course. I’d been so focused on Keely that I hadn’t even thought about Jessica. And I’d walked right into a trap of my own making. I took a deep breath and looked down at my hands, noticing the way my fingers were trembling ever so slightly.
    “No, I just looked at your profile pic and saw that you were partying with your Yearbook staffers. Which, to me, seemskind of sketchy. But I guess we