The morning air in room 204 always smelled faintly of old radiator dust and cheap strawberry hand sanitizer.
Third-period AP History was the longest seventy-five minutes of the entire school week.
Mr. Harrison taught with his back turned to the room most of the time while copying textbook maps onto the board.
The desks were arranged in long pairs pushed tightly together across the linoleum floor.
I sat near the middle aisle, which meant I was constantly within arm's reach of the popular group.
Chloe and Maya sat directly to my left in the second row from the windows.
For weeks leading up to that Tuesday, the social dynamic had been a quiet kind of freezing cold.
They didn't scream or yell or call me names during passing periods.
Instead, they just stopped looking at me when I sat down at our shared lunch table.
If I tried to join a conversation about a weekend party, the room would suddenly get very quiet.
Then one of them would check their phone and pivot their body completely away from mine.
Mr. Harrison never seemed to notice the small shifts in the room's atmosphere.
He was too busy trying to get through the state-mandated curriculum before the spring exams.
My pencil case had been a birthday gift from my older sister before she left for college.
It was made of thick navy blue canvas with a sturdy metal YKK zipper that always made a distinct click.
I kept all my favorite pens inside it, along with my orthodontic retainer case for after lunch.
The classroom was quiet except for the steady hum of the wall-mounted air conditioner.
Mr. Harrison was explaining the nuances of the Works Progress Administration in a monotone voice.
Chloe shifted in her seat and stretched her arms out like she was just waking up from a nap.
Her acrylic-tipped fingers brushed casually against the corner of my desk.
Before I could pull my hand back, her hand clamped securely onto my zipper pull.
The metal tab made a sharp, metallic zip sound that cut right through the teacher's lecture.
She pulled the case toward her side with a slow, deliberate motion.
I froze completely, my pen hovering an inch above the loose-leaf paper.
My heart began beating so hard against my ribs that I thought the person next to me could hear it.
Chloe unzipped the pouch completely and tilted the opening toward Maya.
They both peered inside as if inspecting a strange bug under a microscope.
Chloe's long fingers dug down past my wooden pencils and pink erasers.
She bypassed the correction tape and went straight for the bright neon green plastic box.
It was the case I needed to store my retainer during lunch so I wouldn't accidentally throw it away on a paper tray.
Chloe lifted the green box out between her thumb and index finger with exaggerated disgust.
She didn't say anything, but her lips curled into a tight, mocking smile.
