The Predicteds Read Online Free Page A

face. The high shelves are loaded at the tops and bottoms, with the middles mostly bare, as if someone wants students to have to really stretch or crouch for books.
    I jump when I feel my backpack moving under my head. My coat falls to my feet. “Hey!” I exclaim loudly, sitting up and stomping my bare feet on the ground. “What’s going on?” The librarian sends me a warning shush.
    â€œIt’s okay,” a gentle voice behind me says. I twist around. Standing there is a girl with blond, matted hair that she’s braided into small pieces and haphazardly arranged on her head with tiny, hot pink butterfly clips. Her face is pale, and her eyes are kind of sunken, the way eyes are on people who are too skinny with their bodies shriveling away. Her nose seems to be the only thing that sticks out of her form. She may be the saddest-looking human being I’ve seen in recent memory.
    â€œSorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just going to put this under your head.” She holds up a folded sweatshirt.
    â€œWhy?” I ask.
    â€œI like to hang out here.”
    What? How was that an answer to my question? Who is this girl? Does she patrol the library looking for people who need pillows? She smiles wanly at me as she throws the sweatshirt over my shoulder, tosses my backpack to the floor, and then throws her own bag on top of it. She comes around the side of my chair, shoving my legs out of the way with her own, and flops on the chair next to me. I pull the sweatshirt off my shoulder and hand it back to her. “Thanks,” I say, “but I’m just leaving.”
    â€œMind if I hang out with you?”
    I do mind, but I don’t know how to tell her without being totally rude, so I just don’t answer. I stifle a yawn and taste that horrible taste you only get when you’ve been napping. I snap my mouth shut and wish that I had a Tic Tac. I gather my coat and my backpack and scout out another empty chair, but the girl leans across me and pulls a thick book from the shelf nearest me. I pause and strain to see the title. I can’t help myself. If someone else is reading a book, I need to know what it is. Outlander , the cover says.
    The girl spots me peering over at her, and she lowers the book. “A romance novel about time travel,” she says. “It’s pretty predictable, and the sex scenes are boring, but I like the idea of disappearing and ending up in some other time, far away from here. Did you know that in the world of time travel, you can never stop what’s going to happen? The universe is a cruel master.” She says this very seriously. “In case you were wondering,” she adds in a tone that suggests I’ve been wondering for ages, “I leave the book on the shelf and read some of it every day. Did you know that in over a year, nobody has checked it out?” She turns back to the book before I can respond, so I assume she’s done talking. She drums her fingers militantly on the wooden arm of her chair.
    â€œWell, enjoy your book,” I tell her, stepping over her feet, which are covered by strange blue and yellow polka-dotted peep-toe heels.
    â€œSorry,” she says, grabbing my arm. “Stay. I didn’t mean to bother you.” She looks so pitiful that I hesitate. She sees the opportunity. “Come on. What else do you have to do? I know you’re ditching class.” We both look toward the classroom. I lower myself back in my chair. “I won’t say a word,” she promises. “You go back to sleep.”
    Convinced that I’ll never be able to sleep, even though my lids are heavy, I end up drifting back into that half-asleep state where the idea of getting up seems like more work than I could ever muster. Eventually, my eyelids flutter open, and I find the girl standing with her little round nose about three inches from my face. I jump. “What are you