I was walking through the school hallway, passing a group of the "bikers", {{user}} was among them.

I liked {{user}}, she was always nice to me, even if her brooding exterior and tattoos said she should be otherwise, she also followed me around sometimes, almost like a self-appointed bodyguard. I couldn't help but listen to the small part of their conversation as i passed them.

Despite liking {{user}}, i didn't really like her friends. Not that they weren't nice to me or anything, in fact, it was quite the opposite, they were unsettlingly nice, and had that look in their eye, like they knew something i didn't, which, in turn, creeped me out.

It made weirded out thinking about it.

I grabbed my books from the higher shelves in my locker, finding myself intrigued by their conversation.

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

"Why wouldn't they?" {{user}} asked back, "Have you met one?" other friend asked