I don’t answer.

He pauses. “Okay, you know what? Go ahead.” He sighs, sitting on the edge of his desk. “Push the theatrical envelope. It’s the end of the year, thank God.”

There is a long pause, during which I could change my mind, and I almost do. My chest tightens. I feel a rush of sadness, of fear, regret. I am so nervous.

I wait a moment. Then I walk, trembling, to the light switches and flick them down, casting us into darkness. Our classroom door, like all of them, has a small lock. Whenever we have lockdowns, teachers push the button in, locking us inside. I stand with my back to it, reach back and quietly lock it. And with a tiny click that only I can hear, with that small noise, she’s back. Dee. Giving me courage, helping me find my voice.

People look at each other; someone laughs nervously.

I stroll over to the computer and press play. My face on the screen slowly changes to a still from Carrie. Her anguish is splashed across the screen, in all her bloody, holy glory.

I look out at them.

There is music, while the faces of heroines of on-screen vengeance flicker in the darkness on the screen. It is loud, pounding.

Say it, says Dee.

I open my mouth and pull the tie that has been holding me together. My voice is loud and clear. I look at these people in front of me. They are all still. They are listening. Dee is speaking through me.

“I hid from you, but you found me.”

I am moving around the room.

“I cried, and you laughed.”

I walk between the rows of desks, speaking loudly, heads swiveling to watch me.

“I stood up, and you pushed me down.”

Breanne, her eyebrows raised in the universal sign for what the hell is happening?

“I lay down, and you walked on me.”

Paige is trying to exchange looks with her friends, but their eyes are all on me. I walk to the front of the room. Behind me, a flickering montage of the damned.

“I slept, and you robbed me.”

I see Aidan’s face, a mask of phony indifference, a small smirk on his face, refusing now to look me in the eye, but his leg is jiggling, I know he’s scared. But not scared enough, Dee tells me.

The room is completely silent.

Pete is looking around. He’s onto me now. He knows there is something more to this than art.