NATHAN
Third-period chemistry is usually the hour when my brain shuts off completely. Today, listening to Mr. Henderson drone on about covalent bonds, I can't concentrate for a reason that has nothing to do with the periodic table.
There are no forms left to sign.
My court-mandated service log was signed, turned in, and locked in Ms. Albright’s filing cabinet this morning. Out in the hallways, the lingering grumbling about the district forum and revised reporting rules has already faded into background noise. High school moves on fast; once the drama burns off, nobody spends passing periods debating policy.
What stays behind, sitting heavy in the quiet space, is something I never anticipated.
I miss being there. More than that, I miss her.
For weeks, I told myself that every hour ins
