Junkyard 3 Week 3

My tank top, fading slightly in the middle, rubbed incorrectly at the waist. Readjusting for the umpteenth time, the boy to the left of me in the library glares, as though I am making too much noise. It's the first floor, so loud is heavenly. My bracelet rakes against the computer, making a slightly more appealing nails on a chalkboard sound. Two more people, sitting at the computers watching porn, turn away from the screen to whisper. A kid with a ninja turtles backpack walks by, slurping on some green frappuccino.