A Missing Peace Read Online Free PDF Page A

bucks.”
    I grabbed a Mountain Dew from a bucket of ice on the coffee table because I couldn’t show up buzzed and turned for the door, but Kailee saw me on my way out. “Hey, Caleb,” she said.
    â€œCan’t talk.” I walked past her. She was on my heels, and I caught her death glare out of the corner of my eye.
    I had no idea why I cared. I could just call Mirriam and tell her I’d be late. No, I can’t because I don’t have her number. If I don’t show up, she’ll hate me more.
    I had to make it there. I ran the whole way. By the time I reached the library, sweat beads dribbled down my face.

Chapter 7
    Mirriam
    I walked home from school on Friday alone. Caleb got a ride with the jocks—assuming his Jeep ever broke down in the first place. I enjoyed the solace. He really was the most annoying guy I’d ever met.
    I showered, changed clothes, and packed something for dinner before heading to the library. What a surprise. Caleb wasn’t there. I checked the clock on my phone. I was ten minutes early. A debate or something else that didn’t require too much cooperation was our most solid bet. I didn’t know how many study sessions with Caleb Miller I could stomach. I took out a notebook and started brainstorming ideas for projects that could be divided and conquered without too much joint effort. I turned the page and started brainstorming specific debate topics. Caleb hadn’t shown up yet, and now he was ten minutes late.
    I didn’t know which debate topic was best, and I didn’t think it was a decision I should have to make alone. But I did think I could use the same sources for most of these topics. I searched for books in Killeen’s pathetic library. It was one story—a single room—and the librarians hadn’t completely learned the “new” electronic system, so trying to find anything was like looking for an earring in rubble.
    Another big surprise—all I managed to find was American propaganda. I could do better than this online. Actually, I would do better than this, when I got home tonight I’d go online and see what I could find. I was tempted to have someone back home send me something, but no one knew where I was. They couldn’t. It was safer for everyone that way. I could probably buy an Iraqi publication online, though.
    I checked the clock on my phone again. Zmal, is this jerk going to show? He’s half an hour late. I promised Abrahem if I was here after dark, I’d call for a ride, even though I didn’t like the idea of him having to leave work to pick me up. If I left now, I would have plenty of time to get home before dark, and why should I spend all night here when my dumb jock partner was out partying?
    I shoved the books in my bag and headed for the door. I nearly walked into Caleb in the doorway.
    â€œGivin’ up on me?”
    I rolled my eyes. “You’re late.”
    â€œGot stuck in traffic.”
    â€œToo many rednecks on their way to a football game?” Of course, I knew it wasn’t football season. I heard people lament it every day.
    â€œYour English is really good for a foreigner.”
    â€œYour English is really good for a Texan.”
    I tried to step around him, but he blocked me. Caleb was a big guy, but even in a heated argument, I’d never felt threatened by him. I didn’t like being trapped by an All-American Boy, though. I attempted to glare at him, but my look must have been more hesitant or scared than angry, because Caleb put his hands up in front of him with open palms as if to say, “I’m sorry” and stepped back.
    â€œSo I’m late, but I’m here. Don’t you think we should work?”
    â€œYou’ve wasted half an hour of my time.”
    â€œYou’re willing to make your first B over half an hour?”
    Like I’d make a B anyhow. But…
    â€œHow did you know I’ve never made a