Gemotions

My thumb hovered over the "block" button. Mr. Henderson, my history teacher, had requested to follow me on Instagram. My palms grew clammy. I hadn't even posted anything *too* incriminating, had I? The picture of me attempting to make a soufflé that resembled a deflated tire? The story of me singing terribly at karaoke? I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. What if he’d seen everything? What did he *think*?

I tossed my phone onto my bed, the screen facing down. I felt a sudden urge to clean my room, even though it was already tidy. The air seemed to buzz with a strange energy. I paced, stopping only to pick up a stray sock and chuck it into the laundry basket with unnecessary force.

He was such a cool teacher. He always cracked jokes, and he actually seemed interested in what his students had to say. Now, though, everything was different. I imagined him scrolling through my feed, judging me, maybe even telling other teachers. The thought made my cheeks burn. I needed a distraction.