POV: Samira James
The transition from the high stakes drama of the cafeteria to the sterile silence of the afternoon honors block was jarring. I sat in my AP Chemistry seat and stared at the periodic table on the wall until the elements started to blur into a gray haze. My hand still felt warm from where Calvin had held it in front of the entire senior class. Every time I shifted my weight or adjusted my pen, I expected the ghost of that contact to fade, but it remained a persistent, grounding hum beneath my skin.
I opened my lab notebook and tried to focus on the titration equations scribbled across the page. Beside me, Novia was already working. She didn't look up as she adjusted the burette, but I knew she was waiting for the right moment to dissect the events of the last hour.
"The
