CHAPTER 4: The Teacher at the Door

The main classroom door opened slowly.
Ms. Carter stood outside for half a second before stepping fully into the room, both feet crossing the threshold. She wore her gray blazer and the expression of a woman who had heard enough from the hallway to know the class had crossed a line.
Every student turned toward her.
Whitney’s right hand slipped farther behind her hip.
Ms. Carter saw that too.
Good teachers notice what students try to hide after trouble starts.
“Everyone stay exactly where you are,” she said.
No one argued.
The watercolor palette remained on the desk, blue paint still open in one small well. Loose papers stayed scattered across the table. Hana held the torn sketch against her chest, cheek red, breathing through the urge to break.
Ms. Carter looked first at Hana.
Then at Whitney.
Then at Mason, whose eyes had not left Whitney’s hand.
“Mason,” Ms. Carter said, “what did you see?”