what do i title these things

If Sylvie had her choice, she would be sitting in the library right about now. Libraries were all about quiet, and peace. But apparently not today. For some reason the library was full of people talking and running around and doing stuff that was not supposed to be done in libraries. She was just trying to get some homework done. AP Calculus was really hard, despite her being the best at math, so she needed quiet. And apparently, the only place she could find some actual quiet was the courtyard.

She sat crosslegged under one of the big trees, hunched over her math book and notebook, silently cursing whoever thought it was a good idea to invent calculus.

The son of Ares walked out from the number five cabin wearing a pair of dark red jeans, a black tank, and black steel toed boots. He was having a pretty good day. No one had decided to fu*k with him so no broken bones or anything like that. His beats were blasting Straight Outta Compton which he had seen the movie a few days ago. Damn did that make him feel like a real G.

As he was mouthing the lyrics to one of the songs along with the hand gestures that seemed to go with the beat, he accidently kicked the knee of a girl sitting cross legged underneath a tree. "Oh, sh*t. Sorry." He really didn't mean it of course.

Sylvie had just finished a particularly difficult problem, when she felt a sharp pain in her knee. Looking up, she was quickly able to locate the cause. The pain had gone away quickly, but she certainly wasn't in the best of moods, although there was rarely a time that she was. Sure, the boy had apologized, but his inflection proved he didn't. Besides, Americans used the word 'sorry' too often for it to really mean something. And she was a little peeved he didn't just drop what he was doing and spend the next five minutes making sure she was okay.

"Watch where you're going, røvbanan." She called at him.