I sat at my desk in the back row of Ms. Elara Voss's empty classroom, the late afternoon sun slanting through the blinds like golden bars trapping me here. The clock on the wall ticked past 5 PM, and the school halls outside had gone quiet, echoing with the ghosts of slammed lockers and laughter from earlier. Ms. Voss was strict—everyone knew that. Her sharp green eyes could pin you in place during lectures on literature, her voice cutting through bullshit like a knife.

But me? Riley ...