REYNA

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THE PROFESSOR'S voice cuts through the large lecture hall. “You, using your phone, leave my class.”

For a second, I think I misheard her, but then her glare locks on me.

I freeze. My phone’s frozen too.

Just perfect.

“You with the ginger hair,” she speaks again, her cold eyes finding mine through the rows of amphitheater lecture seats. “I said leave my class.”

I open my mouth. “Prof, I wasn’t—”

“I don’t care,” she snaps. “Out.”

I ...