A girl in the back whispered, “She pulled her hair.”
Another boy said, “I recorded it.”
Mrs. Harlow spun toward him.
“Put that phone away.”
The boy froze, but he did not delete anything.
Logan stepped closer to the lab table. He looked at my binder like it had personally insulted him.
The laminated card had slid halfway out of its sleeve. It showed a state seal, a K-9 certification number, and my father’s name printed under “Master Trainer.”