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Geography class felt like it was dragging on forever, with Mr. Harlan droning on about tectonic plates while I doodled absent-minded spirals in the margins of my notebook. The whispers from the hallway kept looping in my head like a broken record.
Fifty videos. Fifty girls if not more...
Those numbers seemed unreal, yet they felt like some sort of armor—thin and dented, sure, but still something solid keeping me safe from the gnawing fear that had been eating at me all morning.
When the bell finally rang, I took my time gathering my things, waiting for the crowd to thin out a bit before I slipped into the stream of students heading toward chemistry.
The lab was already half-full when I pushed through the door, the familiar scent of old Bunsen burner residue mixed with sharp marker ink washing over me like a wave.
