The outline of the guy I followed flows from the tip of my stylus. I picture the moment when I was only ten feet away from him and he turned toward me. In my mind I erase the rose gold of the newly refinished buildings near him and the half-formed impressions of other people on the sidewalk so I can focus on the details that belong to him.

I fill out his hair—shaved at the back of his neck and just a bit longer on the top. The sharp lines of his face and his slightly off-center nose. A strong face. Older than me, but not by much. Not classically handsome, but increasingly compelling as my stylus fills out the shadows of his jawline and the texture of his eyebrows.

When his face is done, I move on to the black sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up to the forearms. I picture something on his arm—peeking out from the edge of the sweatshirt. But I’m not sure what it is or if that detail is real or if my imagination has taken over. However, I am certain of the narrow shoulders and the long legs. By the time my father’s alarm snaps my concentration, I know the image I have in front of me is as close to memory as I can make it.

The alarm goes silent almost as quickly as it sounded and I hold my breath and listen. Floorboards creak. A shower turns on. I let out a relieved sigh. One less thing to worry about.

Quickly, I slide off the stool and head to my room. I pull my hair into a low ponytail, grab my bag, and head back downstairs. The shower upstairs turns off as I take an apple and a can of Pepsi from the fridge. My body craves coffee, but I am not going to wait around for it to brew.

For once, I get to school in plenty of time. I slide into my desk and read over my notes for several minutes before our teacher tells us to hook up our personal screens. Along with everyone else, I grab the cord at the corner of my desk and plug it into my tablet port. My screen goes blue and the word “WORKING” appears in white as the school system locks the programs stored in my tablet so they cannot be accessed during the exam. Any attempt to do so will activate an alarm in the school network. Cheating is not allowed in any form.

While it seems like any sensible person wouldn’t risk trying to beat the system, there are always a few who do. I remember the door to my biology classroom swinging open last year in the middle of the first-semester exam. Two of the school’s security officers entered, and a freshman named Jeremy jumped up from his desk. His eyes darted around as he looked for a way to escape the two officers who approached. But there wasn’t any way out, especially when Principal Velshi appeared. The security officials each took hold of one of Jeremy’s arms and walked him out the door. Principal Velshi shook his head and apologized for the disruption. “Your fellow student thought he had found a new code that would allow him to access his own files without alerting anyone to his activities. There is a zero-tolerance policy on this campus for cheating. I encourage all of you to remember that.”