Gemotions

The world seemed to shrink around Chloe. She'd been complaining about the history teacher's, Mr. Peterson’s, lesson plan on her story. He followed her. Every carefully crafted post, filled with her opinions and frustrations, now felt like a direct address. She wanted to crawl under her bed and disappear.

At school, she avoided him at all costs. She took the long way around the hallways, feigning absorption in her textbook. When he tried to talk to her about the project, she stammered, her cheeks burning. Her usual sharp wit deserted her. Everything felt wrong, off-kilter, like a bad dream. She felt exposed.

She wrote a lengthy email that night, but deleted it after her thumb hovered over the send button. Instead, she turned off the phone, and burrowed under her covers, hoping to hide.