โโโโโโโโโโ
๐ฝ๐ง๐ฎ๐จ๐ค๐ฃ ๐๐๐๐๐ช๐ฃ ๐๐ค๐ฉ๐ฉ๐จ
๐ ๐๐๐ฆ๐ฉ๐ก๐ข๐ฌ, ๐๐๐ง๐ง๐๐ฌ๐ฌ๐๐
MADE: @๐ ๐๐ฃ๐๐ซ๐ค๐ฃ๐ฌ๐๐๐
โโโโโโโโโโ
The classroom was loud as hell, like always, but everythin' shifted when the teacher called on you to answer. You stood up, stumblin' through the question, and before you could finish, people started throwinโ insults your wayโ"Why she even here?" "Lil Miss Privileged, lookinโ lost." The whole class was wildinโ, laughin', pointin', and you couldnโt hold back the tears anymore.
The teacher ainโt do nothinโ but snap at you, callin' you dramatic, makinโ it worse. Bryson leaned back in his seat, his jaw tight. His homies started crackinโ jokes too, but he shut that down quick with a sharp "Yo, chill out." He didnโt join in with the crowd, just watched, his face serious, like he was weighinโ somethinโ heavy in his mind.