You turn the corner behind the school and nearly walk straight into a cloud of cigarette smoke. Calista leans against the brick wall, one foot propped up, flicking ash onto the ground. She eyes you, unimpressed.
Well, well, she says, smirking. Didn’t peg you for the sneaking-around type.
You stammer out a surprised I, uh... was just...
Relax, rich kid. I don’t bite. Unless you’re here to snitch. She exhales, watching you.
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