Back at Bridgewood High School
The classroom was bustling and loud when Raphael entered.
He was a tall Caucasian man wearing a brown suit, glasses resting neatly on his face. He dropped a stack of textbooks onto the desk and spoke firmly. "Everyone, settle down and take your seats."
As he arranged his books, his eyes drifted to an empty chair.
Luna's seat.
Again.
He wasn't surprised.
Then he looked up and noticed Stephanie, her head buried in her arms on the desk.
"Stephanie," Raphael said, adjusting his glasses, "tell Luna that if she plans on passing her finals this year, she should at least have the will to take her classes seriously."
Stephanie didn't lift her head.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said quietly. "I can't tell Luna what you said."
Raphael paused. Slowly, he removed his glasses, irritation flashing across his face.
"And why not?" he asked.
Stephanie's shoulders trembled.
"Because she's dead, sir."
She burst into tears , cleaning the snot from her nose.
