"Paranoid" by Justin Turner

The world around me slows as I head down the path away from school at 10 in the morning.  Every bird chirp and gust of wind makes me jump.  Trying not to break in a nervous I continue.  It’s my first time skipping class.  My heart races as I continue.  What if I get caught?  Or my gym teacher actually decides to take attendance? My record would be in ruins! I shakily move on and as I round the corner of the aging brick building.  My heart stops.  Movement.  Human movement.  I run back inside and dash into the library, before noticing that a squirrel was just crossing the street.  Phew. Then I realize my fatal mistake.  I’m in the library…without a pass.  I begin to think.  A million thoughts flood in my head.  Do I head back out? No I’ll look suspicious.  Tell them the truth? No way!  My mind swirls, before I realize, no one has said anything to me, the kid just standing at the front desk freaking out.  In fact there is no librarian there.  I step in, ninja-like; a little worried as to where they might be.  At least one is always here.  Then I see the familiar green backpack of Ms. Loot, the head librarian.  Something must have happened.  I enter to investigate.  I crawl behind the safety of the front desk, second guessing my decision.  I dash behind the shelf of new releases and towards the back of the library.  The fiction section is strangely empty.  I head there, curiosity overriding my fear.  Dust outlines the absence of the books that were there.  Someone whispers.  I instinctively drop to the ground.  While army crawling I cautiously peer around the bookshelf to see where the noise was coming from.  Ms. Denes, the administrator, and Mr. Traps, my chemistry teacher, were in a heated conversation pointing at the bookshelf several times.  Or were they pointing at me? I wasn’t sure because the librarians came out of the back room and the two staff members turn to speak to them.  This was my chance to get out.  I tiptoe toward the exit, but let out a quick but bloodcurdling scream when the fire alarm sounds.   I cover my mouth and dash out as fast as I could.  I snuck into the crowd of puzzled students catching the attention of my good friend Nancy.  “There’s been a fire on the football field!” Nandy says.  My eyes widen as I begin to put together the puzzle pieces.  Good thing I didn’t leave because I most certainly don’t want to be a suspect.  I don’t think I’ll ever try to skip again; I just can’t take this stress.