Rosie
I sat in the very back row of the lecture hall. My heart was a drum, beating a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I stared at the screen of my phone, my hands shaking so much I almost dropped it. The message from Professor Ashton was staring back at me. He wanted a picture. Right now. In the middle of class.
My hand moved on the screen, typing…
Me: I’m sorry, Sir. I don’t understand.
I watched him from across the sea of students. He barely even looked up from his notes, and my phone buzzed again instantly.
Professor Ashton: You are a smart girl, Rosie. Don’t play games with me.
I swallowed hard.
Me: But Sir... the class is full. Everyone is right here.
He raised his phone. Up, a little.
He stopped talking. He looked up from the podium, and he looked directly at me. His gaze was
