It wasn’t weird at all.

So why make it weird now?

I got some good pointers.

I smile to myself.

“Something funny, Mary-Belle?” Mr. Dekker asks from up front.

My head jerks up. “No, no, sir.”

He grunts, which he does so often I’ve started counting them over the past month. Last week he grunted seventeen times in forty minutes. I think it’s his either nervous tick or annoying tick. He’s completely bald, wears tiny glasses, and I swear the same suit every single day, or maybe he’s the type to just buy ten of the same thing to keep things simple.

Either way, I think he hates his job.

“Now,” Mr. Dekker grunts again. And that’s number three. “Tessa Andrew, after completing her community college degree, went on to Ivy League, and her schedule cleared up so she’ll be volunteering here for the last month of school, getting experience for her degree, and doing work for the school that’s desperately needed. She’ll also be one of the TAs during summer school, so if you’re one of the unfortunate people who fail your senior year, you’ll have her to look forward to.”

Tessa giggles, then waves. “Hi guys, as you know, I used to go to school here. I finished my credits early and wanted to get in on my TA credits so I could graduate college even earlier. The school board was more than happy to let me back in, and I’m so thrilled to be back at my alma mater.”

I almost roll my eyes. Isn’t that what they call your old college? Or is it the same way with high school? Either way, I’m instantly annoyed.

Her red lipstick looks stained against her lips in that perfect way that makes her lips look dewy yet full. I would bet money that if I tried to wipe it off, it would stay.

Ugh.

See? Annoying.

And why am I letting this bother me? I don’t know their drama or history; all I know is that something about her is off, and something truly went down that I know nothing about.

I randomly look over at Quinn.

His hand is gripping his pencil so hard his fingers are turning white, and his face looks relaxed, but I can tell something’s not okay with him. As Tessa and Mr. Dekker talk, I slowly lean over until I’m in his personal space and whisper.

“You good?”

His jaw clenches tighter. “No.”

“Do I need to pull the fire alarm?”

He actually smiles now, releasing a bit of the tension in his aristocratic-inspired face. “I don’t think that would fix this.”

He keeps holding the pencil, then starts tapping it against the desk over and over again like he’s more than just agitated—almost like he’s afraid.

“What would?” I ask, trying to distract him.

He glances from me to the front of the class and then back to me. “A reset. Got any time travel devices in your fancy bag over there?”