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up. “It’ll be fun!”
    â€œOkay …”
    â€œAnd if we look at really old yearbooks, it’ll be fun to see people’s crazy hair. People always had the weirdest hairstyles back in the day. Didn’t they?”
    â€œTotally. But I don’t know how far back the yearbooks go. I’ll go find Mr. Singer.” I wonder if I’ll see that kid again, and if I do, I hope I remember his name.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œOh, the librarian. He’s actually kind of cool.”
    When I get back from looking for Mr. Singer, I realize what I’ve done—something totally careless and stupid. Like an absolute total idiot, I left my cell phone on the table, just sitting there, not even with the keypad locked. The screen on my BlackBerry is bright, and on it there’s another text from Molly.

    Dina looks at the phone and then up at me and back at the phone again.
    Things just went from bad to worse. Why did she have to see that?
    Yeah, I don’t want to be working with her, but I’m not like Molly, someone who’s totally fine with insulting other people. But in all fairness, even Molly didn’t expect that Dina would see it.
    I’m the moron who let that happen.
    â€œSorry,” I mumble. “It’s just Molly. She doesn’t realize what she says half the time.”
    â€œI get that you guys don’t know me, and I’m new and that automatically makes me uncool, even though I sort of thought that would make me stand out kind of in a cool way,” Dina says all in a rush, “but what I don’t get is why you’re all so weirded out with the video thing. You have a video camera on your BlackBerry right there, the one that just vibrated and insulted me.”
    She’s pointing at my phone, and I cover my mouth because I’m about to crack up. Dina’s actually kind of funny sometimes. “It’s just—I don’t know—unusual, I guess.”
    She nods like she’s trying to understand what I’m saying. She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and then she asks, “Did you find the librarian or the yearbooks? I have to go soon, and we’ve accomplished nothing.”
    â€œI’m sorry you saw that, okay?” I say again because I don’t know what else to do. And then I hear Mr. Singer’s unmistakable whistling. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear. Right now, actually. I’ll get the yearbooks.”
    I head over to the circulation desk, but before I can ask Mr. Singer for anything, Dina yells from across the library.
    â€œI actually have to go,” she says. “My mom forgot mybrother has a dentist appointment, so she needs to pick me up now. I’ll meet you here after school tomorrow.”
    At least she says she’ll meet me here tomorrow. That’s kind of a good thing because now that I think about it, talking about the project for a few minutes was actually kind of fun. It was a little chunk of time when I wasn’t thinking about things at home or worrying about my friends finding out about everything.
    And I got to see that cute kid with the libary cart.
    Dina doesn’t wait for me to say anything back, she just leaves, her oversized mom-looking tote bag slung over her right shoulder. That’s what I get for offering to make it up to her, even though I didn’t really say the mean thing—Molly did.
    Maybe I should text Molly and tell her she shouldn’t have said that, but the truth is, the only reason I’m mad is because Dina saw it. If she hadn’t seen it, it wouldn’t have even fazed me.
    But that’s how I feel about everything lately—once it’s out in the open, it’s much, much worse.

Video tip: Use the eyes to draw emotion.
Cut on the blinks.
    Even after a few days, that text message lingers in my brain. Why did I have to see it? It’s not like I couldn’t guess what they were saying. But seeing it