Chapter SixteenOkay, maybe only a small handful of faces show any hint of caring about my existence, and the class probably fell silent because they thought I might be Dr. Hekima—who, unfortunately, isn’t in the room yet.
The place still looks like a support group hangout, only now it also has the feel of a high school cafeteria—with all the horrors that implies.
There are about twenty teens of high-school age sitting around the room, split into what seems like thirty cliques.
Walking as though through poisonous molasses, I get a folding chair by the wall.
Most of the kids appear quite average. However, one clique consists of four girls who look more like actresses from some teen movie—far too mature for their age, and with clothes, hair, and makeup that should require a team of stylis
