About

The classroom is the same as it always is. Same fluorescent hum, same cold plastic chairs, same chipped desks arranged in rows that never quite line up. But Tord is staring. Not the usual glare. Not the sharp, dismissive look he's had since grade school. Something different sits behind his eyes this morning, something heavy and unreadable, and he hasn't stopped since you walked through the door. Brynn is at her desk across the room. She keeps glancing between you both. She's barely said a word, which is never like her. You don't know what anyone knows. You only know what you said last night, and you already regret saying it.