“Try not to be creepy.”

At 12:57 pm on a frigid Tuesday afternoon, Kyle dropped his worn backpack on the green-checkered carpet. Everyone in the library looked up from his or her work to glare at the disruption. Kyle blushed, pulled the wooden chair back from the table, and plopped down. Sighing, he rested his elbow on the table and buried his cheek in his palm. He huffed. As he drummed his fingers on his khaki pants, he glared at his backpack sitting at his feet. He rolled his eyes, then bent down to snatch the bag. He threw it on the table and ripped it open. His eyes narrowed as he rustled through it. He tugged a ripped violet folder and a clear pencil case out of the pack. He pulled the bag off of the table. Flinging the folder open, he yanked out a sheet of lined paper. Kyle grabbed a chipped #2 pencil with his right hand and furiously tapped its eraser against the table. Running his left hand through his hair, he scanned the room. His eyes stopped on a girl sitting across from him. She lazily scrolled through Instagram, right leg crossed over her left leg, right foot shaking. Kyle hastily recorded every movement she made for 10 minutes. Suddenly, the girl flipped her hair and looked over at Kyle, who picked up the paper and buried his face in it. When she returned her focus to her phone, he peeked over the top of the paper, and then rested it back on the table. Again, he documented her every move. 5 minutes later, she stood up, pushed her chair in, and walked out the library door. He sighed and scrawled “Five Fingers” at the top of his paper. He slid the paper into his folder and flipped it closed. Slumping over the table, he put his head down.  “’Try not to be creepy,’ Ms. Haymale said,” he whispered. “I swear to God, that girl must have thought I was stalking her.” While Kyle’s head was down, the girl re-entered the library and sat down at her table. She sank her chin into her left palm and rested her elbow on the table. A faint smile stretched across her face as she gazed at the boy sitting across from her. She stared for 2 minutes before the boy lifted his head off of the table. Blushing, she whipped her head away from him. “My God,” she muttered. “I am such a creep.”


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