Story:

By the final bell, Butterfly had read the same paragraph six times. She could not have repeated a word of it.

Every glance toward the classroom door reminded her of Douglas’s office. Every ordinary instruction from the front of the room sounded different now that she knew how easily a teacher’s observations could become somebody else’s report.

Bill had left during the previous period.

Yoshiro followed him, then Miffy and Shiori. Their chairs scraped, their bags were collected, and the subject teacher paused with a marker held against the board.

Nobody asked where they were going. After the door closed, the lesson continued.

Butterfly watched the empty seats. As instructed, she thought.

At last, the afternoon ended.

The classroom loosened into movement: chair legs dragging, pencil cases snapping shut, conversations resuming at full volume.

Violet swung her school bag over one shoulder and turned toward Peach. “Shall we—”

Peach looked up.

Color rose into her cheeks so abruptly that Butterfly forgot, for a moment, everything she had intended to say.

Violet noticed too.

A small smile touched her mouth. The tip of her tongue passed briefly over her lower lip.

Peach made a strangled sound and began putting books into her bag with unnecessary force.