Upstairs, a crowd waits to get into math class. The door is locked and Mr. Wolburn hasn't arrived, even though the bell rang five minutes ago. Neither has Will. I'm concentrating on not letting anyone step close enough to touch me and miss the moment when Barry trips and barrels into me from the side. He slams me against a hard body and the open water bottle I was sipping from spills all over his take-home test.

"What the fuck!" the guy says.

I didn't even realize he was in the class before. He's a little taller than me but twice as wide, with a thick neck and large hands. He gapes at me through shocked brown eyes. "You stupid, bitch. Look at what you've done."

He holds the paper up by his fingertips and it's a mess of smeared pencil marks across the page, the equations indecipherable.

"I'm sorry."

There's nothing I can do to make this right because the soggy assignment he clutches is due today and somehow, we both understand Mr. Wolburn won't accept any excuses for not handing it in.

"You're sorry. And that helps me how?" he says, getting in my face.

I want to move away from the anger that flares off him like sparks, but behind me, someone presses forward.

"Calm down, bro." Nick comes up beside me. "It was an accident. She was pushed."

The guy gives him a stare so cold, most guys would back up, but Nick takes a step forward, and another, holding his ground.

The crowd parts as Mr. Wolburn appears, his tie askew, and beads of perspiration on his forehead as if he ran from the parking lot.

"Sorry guys," he says, as he shoulders his way to the door. "I had an emergency." He tries the handle and swears. "Shit. I can't believe the janitor didn't unlock this for you."

There's a longer delay as we wait for Mr. Wolburn to take out his phone and call the office for someone to come upstairs and let us in. The entire time, the guy with the soggy math homework gives me the death stare.

In class, we all drop off our assignments in the basket on Mr. Wolburn's desk as he removes his jacket and hangs it on the back of his chair. I'm already seated when the guy I bumped into gets to the front of the line. At that point, Mr. Wolburn sits and faces us.

"Sorry, Sir," I hear the guy say, even though he's lowered his voice. All the sounds in the class quiet, as if everyone expects some drama up at the front. Sure enough, Mr. Wolburn provides it.

"Say it again, Frank," he demands.

"I did the assignment, but the new girl spilled water on it," Frank mutters.

Mr. Wolburn laughs. It's not a sound I like with its ring of cruelty. "You expect me to believe that?"

"It's true," Frank insists.

"It is," I say from my place at my desk. "It's my fault."

"Come here, Leila,"

It's the last thing I want to do. I expect him to embarrass me. After all, I didn't go to him on Thursday like he wanted. I stand and round my shoulders, as I try to hide in my hoodie. I curl my fingers into my sleeves and make my way to the front, with my gaze locked on the floor. "It's true."

"Speak up and look at me when you talk to me."

I glance up and find his sharp gray eyes fixed on my face.

"Tell me what happened."

"I bumped into him and my water spilled on his assignment."

He laughs, softer this time. "You're too trusting, Leila," he says, his voice gentle now he has my full attention. "Frank here is an expert at getting extensions. I wouldn't be surprised if he's the one who bumped into you and not the other way around."

"What the fuck!" Frank says, raising his hands in exasperation.

"Want to go for a detention and an F?" Mr. Wolburn challenges him. "If you're angling for a third year in my class, you're doing a great job. But if you actually want to pass this time, you need an attitude change. Both of you go back to your desks."

Frank shoves past me and falls heavily onto his chair. When I go by his desk, he whispers, "Thanks a lot, Princess. If you meant to screw me over, you get an A+ for it. Don't think I'll forget it."