Ashmoor Unseen Wolf
A silver wolf glowed on the cover.
“You still read that crap?” One of the girls snorted.
“Witches and wolves aren’t real,” Stephenie sneered. “Grow up already.”
I didn’t reply. I just picked up my book, dusted it off, got onto my bicycle and rode off, finally got to my class.
The rest of the day crawled by, his face replaying in my mind, how fast a smile could turn into cruelty.
When the final bell rang, I trudged home, relieved to escape the monotony.
Bab Populer