Elowen

I had exactly three expectations for my first actual lecture at Belmont.

One: I would sit quietly in the back row.

Two: I would avoid drawing a single pair of eyes to myself.

Three: I would survive the next sixty minutes without adding another chapter to my growing anthology of public embarrassment.

But if my first twenty-four hours at this university had taught me anything, it was that expectations were a luxury I couldn't afford.

The lecture hall was less of a classroom and more of a mini stadium. Rows of polished mahogany seats curved steeply upward, looking down toward a pristine stage. The walls were lined with state-of-the-art...