I pushed open the heavy teachers' lounge door. My eyes scanned the room….no Mr. Blake. I lingered at the doorway for a second, like maybe if I stared long enough, he'd just… appear.
"Looking for someone?" a teacher asked without looking up from her thermos.
"Uh, yeah. Mr. Blake."
She took a slow sip, shook her head. "Called in sick. Didn't come in today."
"Great," I muttered, dragging my voice low enough so she couldn't hear. My stomach sank. Of course. The one day I come ready to corner him about that damn tattoo, he's conveniently sick.
I stepped back into the hallway.
That's when I saw her.
Nari Han….walking through the front doors like she was stepping onto a runway instead of into Blackwell High.
Suddenly, everything went just a little quieter.
Everyone's heads turned like they were watching some goddess descend. She waved like a pageant queen, people nudged each other.
A group of freshmen by the vending machines literally stopped mid-conversation to watch her.
