-Raya-
The lunch bell hadn’t even finished echoing through the breezy halls of campus when I felt two hands—small but surprisingly strong—clamp down on my wrists like I was a fugitive.
“We move now,” Wendy declared, eyes gleaming with mischief.
I nearly dropped what was left of my sandwich. “Can I finish chewing at least?”
“No time,” Irene said, looping her arm through mine. “This one has high emotional damage potential. Very promising.”
“Why do I feel like this is a trap?” I muttered, but they were already towing me toward the east wing like two tiny agents on a classified mission.
The path was lined with booths I hadn’t noticed earlier—more than I remembered from this morning. Colorful posters flapped in the warm breeze, and cheerful signs hung from easels: Find Your Creative Core,
