“So you haven’t told them yet?” Heather popped her head out from her locker as her mouth fell open. “I can’t believe you. That was a week ago. Don’t you think they should know?”
“Why? They know that Budd and Brett are trying to find out who I am. They said it to their face.”
She slammed her locker shut and handed me her notebook. “Hold this.”
I did. “What do you want me to do?”
Heather stopped looking through her book and glared at me. A strand of her hair slipped down, blocking her face, but I could still feel the heat of her stare. “You’re not a moron, Samantha. Stop trying to make me think you are. It’s an insult.”
“I’m screwed.”
“Pretty much.” Her eyes lit up as she found her page and folded over the corner. Then she grabbed her notebook from me before shaking her head. “Look, gr
