By my third class—Evidence—whispers prick around me, flagging into silence as soon as I settle into my spot. Eyes lay hotly on the back of my head, but hurry away by the time I swivel to capture them. When the professor dismisses us, after I rush up with my queries, a trio of three women trails me outside the classroom.
I pretend to stop at the washroom’s open entrance to check my phone, buying them the time to catch up and push us into the next act of their charade. They stop in front of me.
‘You’re Samara, right?’ a blonde asks, pretty blues all dear-eyed. I see why they sent her to ask.
‘Mmm.’ I glance off my phone.
‘Are you…’ Here, she picks her words. ‘Who are you with?’
I look around, gesturing to my empty sides. Beyond the trio, some guys stop and point, laughing quietly amon
