The air grew thick and quiet, the sound of the clock on the wall ticking…

5:45 p.m.

You avoid your teacher’s gaze as his comment hangs in the air.

Everything had been fine; making excuses to stay in class after school with Dan—anything but going home. But Dan knows better, he’s not stupid and he knows you aren’t either—but you continue asking questions on the homework that you most certainly know—just trying to stall time.

He feels guilty; not meaning to strike a nerve. He can hear the old heel of your sneaker tapping on the tile ground as your knee bobs up and down anxiously. He regrets his question; “Why don’t you want to go home?”

The gentle hum of the air conditioner is present as your eyes avoid his, scanning the paper set between you two and then then down to your own lap.