Friday.
I sneak out of Leary's class as soon as he lets us go, hoping to get lost in the crowd before he can single me out and demand that I make an appointment. The last thing I want right now is to talk about my dedication and commitment and academic this and that. I could barely concentrate on the lecture itself.
But the second I'm out in the hall, I practically bump into Elizabeth. Literally. I collide with her chest head-on, stumble and have to steady myself against the wall. I look up at her, confused and furious.
"I'm on my way out," I say. "Please let me pass."
Her eyes narrow. She pins me to the wall, her arms on either side of me. Students pass us by, a few stare, and with an angry glance over her shoulder she lowers her arms. But she's still blocking my path.
"We need to talk," she says, her voice a low hiss.
