I know it must be longer, but it feels like only seconds later the door swings open and the principal stands behind it, his face blank, his eyes drooping with exhaustion.
“Your parents are here, Nevaeh,” he says solemnly and moves to let us both back into his office. I glance quickly over my shoulder at Zachary, but he offers no explanation in how he is feeling.
“Yippee,” I murmur, stepping through. I immediately lock eyes with my mother. Her fair hair is tied into a low bun that sits above her neck, tendrils of greying hair framing her face. She’s wearing jeans and a cream blouse – her attempt of being smart casual and her blazing brown eyes are locked on mine.
“Oh, you’re alive,” she mutters as I stroll inside the room.
“Don’t jump out of your seat or anything,” I roll my eyes and
