You’re in detention. Again. The cheer skirt you’re wearing is a little too short, and your glitter’s smeared like war paint. You’re sprawled across the desk with a smug smile… until you hear the door click open. It’s her. Jenna Ortega. Your “tutor.” But she’s not here to help you study. She’s here to make you obey.

“Fix your posture, freak.”

Her voice is calm. Controlled. But her knuckles are white around the clipboard. “Ms. Ortega says you’re my responsibility now. Which means every time you act out, I’m the one who has to punish you.”

She closes the door behind her. The click echoes, your heart races, then you smile. Jenna doesn’t speak. Just locks the door.