FIA
Avel scrambled for his phone so fast he nearly knocked over his tray. I watched, frozen, as he angled the screen toward his face and flipped the camera, his expression changing in an instant.
His lips parted, his breath catching, and his shoulders tensed, while his eyes, still fixed on the screen, clouded with what I could only describe as fear.
“Avel—” I began to say that maybe it was nothing, but we should go to the infirmary to have his eyes checked out, but before I could finish, he shot up from the table.
“I need to go,” he said quickly, his voice barely above a whisper, and I tried to speak again, to ask if I could go with him. But he was already on his way to the cafeteria doors, moving too fast.
I stood, grabbing my phone, nearly knocking over my own tray in the process.
