This time when I walk into my classroom, the looks on the faces of all my classmates make sense. The way they seem to stare at me like I'm a celebrity makes sense because in a way, I am.
I don't avert my eyes from theirs this time and it makes everyone nervous, which is kind of cool. I sit in my usual seat at the front and I proceed to look at my hot teacher talking and talking for three hours, never turning back to look at the class.
At some point, Freddy looks down at my desk where my hands are resting and he looks at the injuries the rope left there. He looks worried for a split of a second, but then he blinks and forces himself to keep teaching.
So, even he knows. And just like every other person in Rome, he just pretends nothing is happening. In the US, a normal teacher would make
