Armin comes quickly after the bell, jimmies the door open gently, and closes it the same. 

“Calm, rational Evan” fades away as fast as ever, and “frustrated, impatient Evan” steals the show just at the sight of his face. 

He’s wearing the cardigan alternative to the school assigned blazer, the school’s emblem on his chest right where it’s supposed to be, shirt buttoned all the way up and everything finished with a neatly tied tie. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks and he looks so worried I almost feel bad. 

Almost. 

“Armin,” I grit out, and his worried look shifts to frighteningly confused in a split second. I stomp over to the table with all of my books and grab the notice, hold it in the air pinched between my pointer finger and thumb for Armin to see in all of its glory. “Explain.” 

Armin cocks his head at it, one thick curl brushing against his forehead before he pushes it back. He glosses over the page, eyes falling over the blueprint, the cute little clipart of a construction sign with a hardhat hanging off of it on the bottom. 

“It’s a notice,” he says as if I can’t read. 

“No shit, it’s a notice. Why are you giving this place to the library?” I shove the paper into his chest, and he clutches it against the cream knit of his cardigan. “You can’t do that!” 

Armin bites his tongue and leans back against the wooden teacher’s desk, lays his hands flat in the light dust. He sighs at the pile of loose pictures. The lightbulb flickers, and he sighs again louder than before. 

“This is all because of Giovanni. It was only a matter of time anyway. There’s nothing I can do,” he explains. 

I growl and sink into the chair closest to me, drop my elbow on the desk, and dig my hand into the tight coils of my hair. Of all people, Giovanni Romero. How did he even find out about this? 

“I hate him with every fiber of my being,” I growl and stomp over to the window to yank the curtains open and lean so close that I could kiss it. Or bash my head into it. 

“I’m just the treasurer,” Armin says to my back. 

I can feel him walking closer to me and when I whip around, his mid-reach hand is still hanging in the air. 

“Well, treasure this then!” I say. 

“Evan.” Armin chuckles as if I’m the unreasonable one here. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but Giovanni is what Giovanni is. What can I say to the vice president?” 

“I’ll talk to him then.” I’m seething when I push past him and shoot for the door. “He’s going too far this time. I won’t let him have this.” 

Armin doesn’t try to stop me when I barrel into the hall and go sniffing for Giovanni. He ends up being much easier to find than I anticipated, leaning over a table of girls in the middle of the cafeteria, and by the way they’re smiling up at him, giggling and batting their mascara-clumped eyelashes, they have to be freshmen. 

The cafeteria is crowded, and that makes me think twice. It’s always crowded in here, but especially at the beginning of the year when people are regrouping with their cliques or finding a new group to morph into. This is a scene waiting to happen, but that’s not going to stop me from pressing Giovanni. Not this time.