Diana’s POV
The ceiling fan above groaned in lazy revolutions, barely stirring the heavy afternoon air that clung to our skin like a second layer. It smelled of sun-warmed ink, old paper, sweat, and the sharp sting of bleach from yesterday’s mopped floors. The classroom walls, sun-stained and tired, seemed to lean in, suffocating.
I kept my eyes low, the tip of my pen scratching quietly in the margins of my biology notes, half-studying, when Mr. Henley’s voice sliced through the thick silence like a blade.
“Eva, since you’re busy whispering, maybe you can answer the question on the board. Tell us the function of the Golgi apparatus?”
Eva blinked like she’d just been yanked out of a dream. Her lip gloss glinted under the harsh white lights, but her mouth stayed shut.
Mr. Henley’s brow
