Dionne
I sat up straighter as she fixed her eyes on me, her lips pressed together like she was holding back from saying something.
“Your name?” she asked, tapping her desk with a pen.
“Dionne,” I replied, trying not to shift in my seat. Something about the way she looked at me made me feel small, like she already had an opinion on me formed.
She nodded, then leaned back. "Dionne... you know Hardin, right?"
I blinked, caught off guard. "Yeah, of course. He's my—"
"Ah, let me stop you right there," she said, raising a hand. "Before you say anything, I’ve seen Hardin go through... well, let’s say many girls."
My mind raced as she continued. She didn't know, did she? No. She couldn’t. She’s just assuming things based on what she’s seen.
"Hardin was always with a schoolmate of yours, L
