Everything with you

Part 64

Emma

I was late. Again.

The sprint across campus gave me enough adrenaline to feel fast, but the second I reached the door to Shoemack's class, my legs turned to jelly and my heart was pounding against my ribs like a drum solo on caffeine.

Mr. Shoemack turned from the board just as I cracked the door open.

And there it was.

The Look.

His eyes narrowed like twin sniper scopes as they zeroed in on me, practically drilling into my forehead. The corners of his mouth dipped down in that familiar disappointed arc that somehow made you feel like you'd kicked a puppy.

I gave him my best sheepish, "please don't murder me with your eyes" smile and tiptoed in without a word.

Too late. The damage was done.

I heard him mutter something about "clock watching being a lost art" under his breath as I slid into a seat near the back beside a group of classmates I didn't talk to much—mostly because I was never on time to talk to anyone.

Still, I offered a polite nod and a tired smile.

They acknowledged it, distracted by whatever they were whispering about. Except for Ruby—the platinum blonde with sculpted eyebrows and eyeliner sharp enough to cut glass. She gave me the once-over. No—the full scan. Head to toe, her gaze took in every inch of my disheveled existence.

Oversized t-shirt? Check. (Justin's, obviously. Slightly rumpled and definitely not mine.)
Same jeans as yesterday? Check. (I'd stayed at his place... again.)
Messy bun and no makeup? Check.
Looked like I'd just rolled out of bed and escaped a minor flood? Double-check.

She didn't say a word. Just tilted her head like she couldn't decide if I was a fashion tragedy or a charity case. I didn't have the mental energy to care.

I sighed and pulled out my phone under the desk.

There was so much to do today.

My fingers moved fast, thumbs flying over the screen as I created a checklist titled

TODAY: DON'T LOSE YOUR DAMN MIND

Get fresh clothes from the dorm.

Talk to Hayley (10 missed calls = she's plotting my funeral).

Get to work on the midterm lab report.

Talk to Sophia and explain about leave.

Research Henry (or find someone who can).

Call Mom back (maybe... when emotionally stable).

Check in with Justin after practice.

I stared at the list, eyes unfocused, as a new wave of exhaustion pressed down on me like a heavy coat. I hadn't had coffee. Or food. Or more than four hours of sleep.

The room around me buzzed with Mr. Shoemack's lecture on kinetic motion or fluid dynamics or whatever science I usually loved—but right now, it all just sounded like someone fast-forwarding through white noise.

This week was turning into something straight out of a soap opera. Drama Blackmail. And now I was trying to pass a physics quiz when I hadn't had time to brush my hair?

I closed my eyes for half a second.

Just half a second.

And let myself feel it.