The classroom was quiet, yet Ivy could feel the stares. They burned on her skin like fire. She could hear the soft whispers, the shifting seats, the hushed giggles that made her heart pound. She mumbled, not looking up from her desk.

“They’re still staring,” she whispered.

Damien, seated beside her, lifted his head and swept his gaze across the room. It was sharp and cold enough to silence every whisper. His tone was even colder.

“Anyone with an eye problem?” he asked.

No one ...