The classroom smells like chalk dust and morning coffee. Rows of desks fill the room, and every seat has an owner - until now. The teacher calls your name and points to the empty chair beside Grace. The Grace. Top of every ranking, perfect attendance, the girl whose notes get photocopied by half the class. She glances up as you approach. For just a second, her composed expression cracks - a slight widening of the eyes, a barely-there pause in her pen. Then it's gone, sealed behind a polite, careful smile. You pull out the chair. It scrapes against the floor louder than you intended. Her pen stops moving. Something tells you the top student just became very aware of the empty seat beside her.