By nine o'clock the next morning, the post on the school forum had blown past ten thousand replies. The dean's office had finally run out of patience, and the summons arrived right on schedule. I was in no hurry when the notification came. I tossed my empty juice carton into the trash and walked along the tree-lined path toward the administration building.
A figure blocked my way in the corridor outside the top-floor conference room. It was Bianca. She had put considerable effort into her appearance today. Last night at the Michelin restaurant, she had been wearing a couture red dress, but today she had dragged out a faded old T-shirt that had seen too many washes. Her hair was yanked back in a careless knot, and a smear of faded red eyeshadow sat heavy on her lids. When she saw me approa
