10: What the Actual Hell

Logan

By the time we finish our research and create the rough draft of the essay, it’s nearly nine o’clock. My mom stiffens behind me, and I can feel her disappointment radiating toward us.

The library had officially closed hours ago, but she had kindly let us finish our work so that she wouldn’t have to repeat an evening like this.

I thank Anyra for her time, and she silently bows her head, strands of black hair falling ...