The scowl on Ms. Booth’s face signaled she was in a bad mood. Oblivious, the rowdy backbenchers in homeroom carried on. Ms. Booth began roll call.
Meanwhile, the buzzing inside my head steadily grew until my skull filled with TV static. I had barely slept the night before, working on a paper due that day.
I sipped coffee from my thermos to wake myself up, thinking about how I had to stop pulling all-nighters. At 16, no one listens to good advice, even their own. “Nafisa?” called Ms.
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