Uhm… I stammered.
The word came out tiny, cracked, like a mouse squeak in a room full of lions.
Professor Nathan had just called on me—again—for the second question in a row.
This time it was about the axillary nerve distribution.
I stood up—slow, legs wobbly.
Everyone turned.
Again.
I opened my mouth.
And nothing came out.
Just air.
My brain blanked—completely, brutally—like someone flipped the switch.
I knew the answer.
I *knew* it.
But my tongue felt glued to the roof of my mouth.
Silence stretched.
Then Ryder—f*****g Ryder—snorted.
“Damn, four eyes can’t even speak now?
What, too busy daydreaming again?
The room exploded.
Mean laughter rolled through the rows like a wave.
Someone in the back wheezed, “She’s glitching!”
A girl next to Ryder fil
