Hazel pov
The class after that was the worst one of the day. Not because of the subject. The subject was fine. It was the waiting. Every minute I sat in that chair was one more minute before the principal’s office. I kept thinking about what was waiting for me on the other side of that door, and my brain refused to settle.
I tapped my pen on my desk.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
I stopped. Pressed it flat against the surface. Held it there like that would fix it.
It didn’t.
A few minutes later, I was doing it again without noticing.
I shifted in my seat. Adjusted my notebook. Straightened the edge of the page even though it didn’t need it. Anything to keep my hands busy and distracted.
The professor kept talking.
I could hear every word. None of it stayed. It slipped through before
