The English classroom felt louder than usual.
Not because anyone was actually shouting.
Just... nervous energy.
Chairs scraped against the floor. Someone kept clicking a pen in the back row. Laptops chimed to life one after another, papers rustled, and quiet conversations bounced around the room before fading as Mr. Barrow stepped to the front.
His tweed jacket looked as rumpled as ever, one side sitting higher than the other.
Avery wondered if he owned a mirror.
"All right," he announced, clapping his hands once. "Today's the day."
A chorus of groans rolled through the room.
He smiled like he'd been expecting it.
"Each pair will present the opening thesis for your literary analysis project."
He glanced around the class.
"Ten minutes."
Another dramatic sigh from somewhere behin
