EMBERLYN WOLFSONG
I slowly stand up from my spot, still staring down at my book, feeling the entire class's attention on me. I take a few deep breaths. The instructor, Mr. Thane Blackwood, folds his hand in front of the class and looks at me with omnipotent rage, which I know is capable of sending me to the detention room—a place I have always feared entering—without permission.
I struggle to look up as I glance at the paper in front of me and grind hard against my teeth. I inhaled deeply. As Mr. Thane fixes his attention on Xander,
"I am waiting for one or both of you to break the silence and tell me why my class has become so dull to you. " He says, "I would like to know," and I can tell by the tone of his voice that he is roiling with rage.
I am not going to get away from this. Be
