Mee-Kyong bent over the table, her shoulders aching from the awkward angle. The kink in her neck made it feel like she was back in the fabric-cutting line at Camp 22. She slammed her pen down and let out an exasperated huff at the sound of approaching footsteps. Did Mrs. Stern seriously expect her to be done by now? She glared at the door.
“She got you copying?” It was Benjamin.
Mee-Kyong didn’t look up. “I’ve had a cramp in my wrist for the past hour.”
Benjamin went to the bookshelf, drawing his pointer finger across each title. “That’s normal. Most students complained.”
“Students?” Mee-Kyong leaned back in her chair and flexed her tired wrists.
“You know. Secret Seminary students ... The missionaries?” Benjamin turned away from the bookshelf for a moment. “You don’t know?”
“Guess n
