SOPHIE
The black binder feels like a lead weight in my backpack as I walk through the front double doors of Oakford High on Monday morning.
I spent all of Sunday night staring at the red ink bleeding through those thin pages, but nothing prepared me for the atmosphere waiting in the main hall. The usual loud, disorganized buzz before first period is gone. In its place is a sharp, prickly tension that follows me the second River, Avery, and I clear the vestibule.
People aren’t looking away anymore. They’re staring openly.
"Well," River murmurs, tucking his thumbs into his denim jacket pockets and keeping his stride perfectly in sync with mine. "Subtlety is officially dead. Did someone leak the nuclear codes, or did Albright already circulate your edits?"
"Neither," Avery says, checking
