Just like Chase said, the following day, I found myself with Mrs. Harrington, alone, attending what would be my second etiquette class. If I thought that the last class was a piece of work, then I was wrong. Terribly wrong.
This time, we were working on table manners, and it felt like everything I did was being tracked or watched and maybe that was because it was. What made things even less bearable was the fact that the woman was grading me and the brat in me that craved academic validation like it was the strongest drug out there, hated each time I lost a point. If I picked up the wrong fork and, just like that, ten points were gone. If I slouched just a little bit, then it meant that another ten points had gone down the drain.
By the time I was halfway through my entrée, I was sure th
