Hazel
She was standing in the principal's office again.
Not sitting across from the desk the way she had been in real life, arms crossed, waiting. She was standing and he was standing and there was no desk between them. He was in the same suit but his face was wrong. Too pale. Too still. His hands at his sides.
"It's your fault," he said. "You caused my death."
She opened her mouth to say something and no sound came out. He said it again. The same words in the same order and she could not move and she could not answer and the room kept getting smaller around both of them.
She woke up.
The ceiling above her was the right one .her ceiling, her room, the same crack near the window she had looked at a hundred times. But her chest was tight and her shirt was damp and her hands were alread
