The last student had shuffled out minutes ago, leaving only the scent of chalk dust and the low hum of the fluorescent lights. Professor Thorne didn’t look up from the paper in his hands, his expression unreadable behind his wire-framed glasses. “Miss Vance. You wanted to see me about your midterm.”
Elara’s heart hammered against her ribs. She stood before his massive oak desk, her fingers twisting the strap of her book bag. A large, red ‘D’ was circled at the top of the page he held. “Yes, Professor. I… I know it’s bad. But I really need this class to graduate. Is there anything I can do? Anything to raise the grade?”
The word hung in the air, charged and heavy. Thorne finally looked up, his gaze a cool, assessing blue. He set the paper down slowly. “Anything is a very broad offer, Elar
