PROOF

When I came out of Learning Skills, guess who was sitting right there in the library?

Miller the Killer. Of course. He was at one of the computers, looking at meathead.com, or whatever it is he does with a computer. I didn’t worry about it too much. Mrs. Seagrave was at the desk, and let’s just say they don’t call her the Bulldog of the Library for nothing. She’ll bite your head off if that’s what it takes to keep you quiet.

But just when I was ready for a clean getaway, Miller pushed back his chair. Then he planted himself between me and the door like a big, steaming pile of NOPE.

“What’s up, Khatchadorian?” he said.

I noticed he didn’t say Khatchadorkian. But even that seemed like a bad sign, somehow.

“Watch out, Miller, I’ve got to go,” I said, like that was going to do me any good.

“What class is that?” Miller said, pointing at the resource room. He said it just loud enough so the kids at the other computers could hear too. But not Mrs. Seagrave.

“It’s Learning Skills,” I said, and tried to get past him again. “Watch out.”

“Learning Skills? What’s that?” he said, a little louder. A couple of people looked over now.

“You know what it is,” I said.

“Oh, riiiiight!” he said, like he’d just remembered. “So I guess that means—”

“MR. MILLER, THIS IS NOT A SOCIAL CLUB,” Mrs. Seagrave barked. “AND MR. KHATCHADORIAN, DON’T YOU HAVE SOMEWHERE TO BE?” (I swear, she’s the loudest librarian you’ve ever heard.)

So I guess bulldogs can be useful sometimes. It got me out of there, anyway.

But the damage was already done.

See, I always figured I had two things on Miller. I knew he was bigger and scarier, and he could pound me like a railroad spike. But I was faster. I could always outrun him if I had to.