His voice is drawing closer.
He’s moved through the classroom, handed out the assignments, table by table, student by student, and he’s gaining on us.
I turn my chin to my shoulder.
Eric picks out ink-stained parchment from the shrinking pile in his grip and drops it onto the desk over from mine.
Serena lifts her chin slightly, and the grade that’s marked on her assignment must be sufficient, because she leaves it out in the open and returns to the notebook on her desk.
Landon doesn’t like his grade.
He’s quick to snatch it and furl it up into his fist.
Eric throws him a dark look, but it goes ignored.
Landon tosses the assignment right into the tin basket by the chalkboard.
A chorus of snickers runs through the classroom, but weathered, subdued by the early hour.
Through the windows, the skies are moody and dull, even though the sun rose an hour ago.
Breakfast should be served any minute now in the mess hall, and my stomach is starting to churn.
I swallow back the rising acid.
Eric approaches us, the final desk, and sets down just one stapled bundle of paper.
I frown at the slight stack.
Placed in front of Courtney.
It has her name on it. That’s herB+.
My assignment is nowhere in sight.
Eric answers the question stirring in me before I even lift my frown to him, “We will talk after class.”
He said it so quietly, I doubt anyone but Courtney heard him.
Eric continues on to the head of the classroom—to the chalkboard, and he drones on, ignorant of my dark stare burning into him.
Landon leans over the edge of his desk. His gentlepsstlures in my glower.
Unflinching, he hisses across the class, “I need to show you that thing before breakfast.”
My frown doesn’t have the time to burrow into my face before his gaze slides behind me—
To James.
If they share a look, it’s only for the quickest moment, less than a second, before Landon is righting himself in his chair, looking straight ahead.
Slick, real slick.
Guess I’m their buffer, now.
My cheeks swell around a huff and I sag over my workbook.
I don’t take notes.
