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Matchbox Ten Adam and I wandered into UNC Greensboro's library a few hours later. Adam's shoes squeaked with each step, drawing some attention from students and library workers. They were a raggedy pair of sneakers that he usually wore around the tour bus, when his feet got cold. The sneakers went well with his threadbare jeans and ratty football jersey. He wore his beaten-up Yankees cap backwards, and his hair stuck straight out over the size adjuster. As he walked, people began ignoring his noisy tread. Nobody seemed to notice me, although I was dressed in the same type of clothes I always wear. Which was good. We reached the computer lab and chose computers that were beside one another. Adam jiggled the mouse. The computer awoke from screensaver mode; colour crept onto the screen. "Aw!" Adam exclaimed when a please log-in box popped up on the monitor. "We need a password!" His eyes wandered around the lab and fell upon a woman across the room. She swept her copper locks off her shoulder and leaned over a student, who sat at a computer terminal. "Wait, I have an idea! Be right back!" Adam sauntered across the room. He stopped beside the woman, who turned to him. Leaning against the wall, he grinned. I shook my head and smiled. "Hey, did you go to the concert on Monday?" I heard a female voice behind me. Alarmed, I glanced over my shoulder and sighed when I saw that the girl was speaking to another guy. I returned my gaze to the please log-in box. "Yeah," I heard the guy's gruff response. "Man, Matchbox Twenty is such a sell-out!" "No! Rob Thomas was sick!" "Yeah, right!" the guy exclaimed. I could hear one of them typing away at a keyboard. "I was visiting my grandmother yesterday, and I saw him wandering down the street!" "YOU SAW ROB THOMAS!?!" the girl shrieked exactly what I was thinking. "Yeah! I thought it was cool too, until he totally snubbed me! I was like, Hey, Rob!, and he just kept walking." Adam approached me. He opened his mouth but closed it again when I raised a finger to my lips. I motioned my thumb over my shoulder. "Maybe he didn't hear you," the girl suggested, and Adam raised an eyebrow. "Oh, no, he heard me!" the guy replied. "He gave me this funny look when I passed him. Man, Matchbox Twenty used to be so cool, but Rob Thomas is such a loser!" Adam's eyes lit up. He swirled around to face the students. "Wait!" he exclaimed, and the two jumped. "You saw Rob Thomas?" he asked the guy, a round faced kid with a mushroom haircut. "When?" Glancing from the girl to Adam, the guy replied, "Yesterday." "Where?" "In Faith!" "Where's that?" The guy narrowed his eyes at Adam. "Man, what is this, twenty questions? Who the heck are you?" Raising a finger over his lips, Adam removed his hat. "Please don't say anything. I'm..." "ADAM!!!" the girl exclaimed, clasping her hands over her cheeks. "YOU'RE ADAM GAYNOR OF MATCHBOX TWENTY!!!" Students and staff looked up from their monitors with wide eyes. Adam turned to me. "We gotta get out of here," he murmured to me. "Hey, can I have your autograph?" the girl asked, thrusting a pen and paper into his hands. "Um, sure!" he smiled, signing his name with a stroke of the pen. Looking past them, I saw a mob of people drawing closer to us. I bolted out of my chair and ran for the door. Glancing behind my shoulder, I found Adam at my heels... And a few dozen people at his heels. "Go! Go!" he exclaimed. We raced out of the computer lab, past library workers and students who just stared after us. Our pursuers were slowing. Adam shoved me into the front door to the library. My head slammed into the glass. Pain shot across my forehead. "It says pull! It says pull!" I shouted. He stepped back, and I ripped the door open. We flew out of the library, toward the tour bus. Black spots crossed my vision, and I felt my legs going numb. "Adam, I can't run anymore!" "We're almost there!" Those were the last words I heard before I crumpled to the pavement. |