AMELIA 'DECLAN' SILVER
He said he…
The noise in the classroom was wild that morning. Someone had started a paper fight while Mr. Dorian was still scribbling formulas on the board. The whole place was chaos—laughter, whispers, and the screech of chairs scraping the tiled floor. I sat in the middle row, trying to blend in, pretending to be part of the madness, even though I had no idea what was funny.
“Declan,” Mr. Dorian’s voice sliced through the noise, sharp and impatient.
Every head turned in my direction. I froze, mid-gesture, pretending to be writing.
“Head to the staff block. Mr. Cormac wants to see you.”
“Right now, sir?,” I asked, not sure if it even made sense to ask.
“Right now.”
The moment he said it, my stomach twisted. Mr. Cormac. The same teacher who always looked at
