Ellie’s POVBy the time second period rolls around, my brain feels like someone left it on low batteryand my patience is at one percentMrs. Calloway’s voice hums in the background like a broken fanCarter’s sitting two rows over, pretending to read, but mostly just waiting for his next performanceBecause that’s what he does best—make a sceneand I, unfortunately, am his favorite stageI tell myself to focusto keep my head down, to just survive the day without being publicly humiliated for breathing wrongbut when the teacher asks for volunteers to read, I already know my luck’s expired“Ellie,” Mrs. Calloway says, like she’s tossing me into a pit for entertainment“Why don’t you take the next paragraph?”Of courseI open my mouth to start readingbut before I even finish the first line, Carter’s voice cuts inmocking, lazy, too loud“Could you speak up? We can’t all hear your mumbling.”Laughter ripples through the roomthin and sharpI freeze for half a second too long, and that’
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