I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips, attempting to bury the sinking feeling in my stomach.

My school jersey hugs the top of my cheerleading uniform I still have on because, well, I like the attention, and my backpack’s slung carelessly over one shoulder. She doesn’t look up from her desk right away, but I can feel the weight of her presence anyway—controlled, composed, like she’s already tired of whatever I’m about to say.

“Afternoon, Professor. So… am I here for a lecture, detention, or just because you missed me?”

I flash her a playful grin, the usual one that can get me out of trouble with some professors—but something tells me it won’t work on her. It never does.