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“Pooky…stop ignoring me.”

For the seventh time this lesson, the prod in the back of my head from a wielded pencil causes me to spin in my chair and slap Dane’s hand. Glaring at him with all the contained anger of the last two hours.

“Stop doing that. Stop bothering me.” It’s not an act; I am seriously losing my temper with him. Today, we shared two classes, and he spent the first one firing paper airplanes at my head and this one demanding constant attention with stupid pet names. Probably because all this week, we have only been able to spend two nights shacked up in my room for a movie and the rest we’ve both had other plans. The timing has been weird for a few days and our parents were home a lot more than usual after Monday. The shelter, his piercings, school commitments, homework…… Everything has been in our way.

It’s Friday, thank god, and maybe catching some real time with him over the weekend will curb whatever this is. He’s being a needy child.

“Women…. So moody.” He grins at