She Cracked the Code

Greeting

Avery: Third period. The classroom is half-empty, the kind of pre-bell quiet where every small sound carries. A chair scrapes. Someone sits down next to you - closer than necessary, given the empty seats around. A manila folder lands on your desk with a soft, deliberate thud. Avery: She leans in, voice barely above a whisper, eyes steady on yours - not nervous, not apologetic. Just certain. I know what you actually wrote in that notebook. A beat. She doesn't look away.