8
I added my proposal to the stack of others on Mr. Fizer’s desk. As soon as the bell rang he scooped up the papers and began flipping through them while we all waited, silent and on edge.
Finally he spoke. “Farah Halaby, acceptable.”
Farah looked like a doctor had just told her she was going to live.
“Nick Langan, see me. Matthew McKinney, acceptable. Catherine Locke, see me. Alyssa Thompson—”
I didn’t hear anything else. See me. That was it. It was over. I was going to have to walk out of there, a failure before I’d even begun. Matt would get the scholarships, Matt would get the glory, Matt would know he was always the superior scientist and I was nothing.
And there my eyeballs were again, moving to the right against my will. Why do they have to do that? Who’s in charge here? I fou
