Chapter Eleven

Isis was still basking in the aftermath of her shame as she sat at her usual seat in Mr. Greyson’s class. She didn’t want to be here nor did she want to see him. The irrational side of her, though, was anticipating his arrival. Isis drew out her notebook and began shading with her pencil, the chatter of the students fading away as her thoughts drew her in. She thought of the masquerade, every instance playing vividly in her mind as if she were experiencing it at that exact moment. But when it fast forwarded to their moment of flying to close to the sun, Isis withdrew from her thoughts. She didn’t have the constitution to think deeply about it. About how much she wanted it to happen. About how humiliated she felt by being rejected.