I knew that look. I'd had that look, I was sure. When I saw the girl walk in — a junior, I thought — I watched her as covertly as I could. She looked upset. And if there was anything I couldn't do, it was watch people be upset by something.

I closed my English book and made my way over to her. I was trying to do an essay, but I wasn't very good at them. I cleared my throat when I got close to her.

"Excuse me," I said quietly (we were in a library after all). "Are you okay?"