The classroom door slid open, and Ms. Lail, our geography teacher, walked in. She was young, probably not even 30, with this sharp bob haircut and glasses that made her look like she could be in a hipster coffee shop or a lecture hall and fit right in either way.
Usually, she'd breeze in, drop her bag, and start scribbling on the board before anyone could blink. But today? She froze mid-step, her eyes locking onto me like I'd just teleported into the room.
I shifted in my seat, my palms already getting sweaty. 'Ah crap, here we go,' I thought, my brain flashing a big red BOSS ENCOUNTER warning. Everyone was still sneaking glances at me, and now Ms. Lail was joining the stare party. My new haircut was turning me into some kind of zoo exhibit.
"Kofi?" she said, her voice a mix of confusion and curiosity. She adjusted her glasses, leaning forward slightly. "Is that you?"
