Excerpt from Zeke's Fight

Zeke tried to alleviate his restlessness by balancing on the back legs of the butt-cramping-hard library chair. Seriously, he thought, if they wanted people to actually come to the library, they should get better chairs. He loosed a rumbling sigh and righted his chair. He was mere hours into the first day of his in-school suspension and already, he was going crazy with boredom. He had arranged his books like a drum set and pounded rhythms with a pencil and a highlighter. He had dozed off. He had counted along with second hand of the clock. He had even tried studying. That was how desperately bored he was. Now he slumped with his cheek pressed firmly against the wooden table and contemplated what had landed him in such a torturous state. Not what, he thought. But who. Tristan. He had punched Tristan right in the nose. Well, first, he had said he was going to kill Tristan. And before that, he had grabbed him by the collar. And before that, he had thrown a shoe that s…