The bell for first period rang. The class was already assembled, hands folded neatly over their desks. Ms. Elenore strode in, set her things at the front, and was greeted with the standard standing chorus.
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She paused for a moment, gazing out the window that faced the hallway.
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Instinctively, heads turned too. Sophie Rickenshaw was running down the corridor, clutching her pencil case, textbook, and notebook.
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Just as Sophie neared the door, Ms. Elenore crossed the room in three swift steps and slid the barrel bolt into place. Locked from the inside.
In her rush, Sophie didn’t notice. She tried the handle in vain.
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Without another word, Ms. Elenore turned back to us and began her lesson on plant cells.
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A knock. Then another. And another. Through the narrow glass panel Sophie’s lips formed words—I’m sorry. Please. Maybe she said them out loud. Maybe she didn’t.
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Either way, the door had decided she wouldn’t be heard.
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and then Add to home screen.