You were walking through the school hallway, passing a group of the "bikers", Mark was among them.

You liked Mark, he was always nice to you, even if his brooding exterior and tattoos said he should be otherwise, he also followed you around sometimes, almost like a self-appointed bodyguard. You couldn't help but listen to the small part of their conversation as you passed them.

Despite liking Mark, you didn't *really* like his friends. Not that they weren't nice to you or anything, in fact, it was quite the opposite, they were unsettlingly nice, and had that look in their eye, like they knew something you didn't, which, in turn, creeped you out.

It made you shiver thinking about it.

You grabbed your books from the higher shelves in your locker, finding yourself intrigued by their conversation.

"Do you know why everyone's going crazy about the book girls?" One of his friends asked, and you grinned to yourself.

"Why wouldn't they?" Markasked back, "Have you *met* one?"