Page 34 of Ignition

“I don’t extend deadlines for anybody, Miss Alcott.”

My stomach plummeted.

The scratching of pen on paper screamed louder than it had any right to.

But he hadn’t dismissed me, and slivers of cautious hope kicked up in my chest.

I snapped my laptop open and fired it up.

“What if I could prove it?” I swallowed a few times around the knot in my throat that wouldn’t budge.

His eyes slid up from his note-taking, settling on me.

“Go on.” His tone remained neutral.

I handed him the printed assignment, then guided him through my case as I opened the file on the laptop and compared the two, line for identical line. I highlighted the timestamp of the last modification, which had been hours before the deadline.

I doubted he’d ever lost a student’s work.

The implication hung heavy, albeit unspoken by either of us.

The who lingered in the air, a mystery I couldn’t afford to get distracted by.

Heart in my throat, I waited as he scanned the text, gaze both moving faster than it had any right to and crawling over the page, the way time had slowed.

I peered up at the framed diplomas and awards lining the wall to my left and prayed this would work—or I didn’t know what I’d do.

His chin lifted, and his eyes narrowed at me as he set his pen down. His expression was unreadable, the mask of a practised prosecutor who never showed his hand.

His fingers tapped the polished surface of the desk as he let the pause stretch taut, in the way he always did in class, right before giving us an impossible assignment.

Tap, tap, tap.

My pulse hammered in my ears, keeping pace with the thoughtful metronome he drummed against wood.

The room itself held its breath alongside me.

“Very well. I shall grade it on its merit.”

His tone made it clear it was a great concession, but the glimmer in his eyes allowed me to breathe again.

Fingers trembling, I straightened up and gathered my laptop.

“Thank you, sir.”

A long exhale trailed my strained words, carrying my white-hot panic away.

He nodded, forehead wrinkling further, and his piercing gaze followed me out as I shut the heavy oak door. My body sagged against the wall, and the vice around my ribcage allowed me to draw breath again.

I’d been staring at the same square on my laptop screen for so long, I was seeing double.

The family picture taped to the pinboard above my desk comforted me without words, but still, my pulse wouldn’t slow. Every fibre of my being braced for immediate expulsion, no matter how many times I’d murmured to myself the danger had passed.

Nerves had mutated into a jittery itch under my skin, one that required movement to burn off. The door to my room clicked behind me as I as good as sprinted down the hall.

Thud, thud, thud.

My feet hit the stairs fast, faster than they probably should. I shoved aside the nagging impulse to go talk to Pri and rounded the corner.