Chapter Eighty Four

Sienna

As the bell rings, I busy myself with slipping my book and notebook back into my backpack before zipping it up, letting the rest of the students empty from the classroom before standing up from my seat in the back row and heading for the door at the front of the classroom, throwing a wave at Mr. MacFarlane as I pass by his desk.

“Have a good day, Sienna,” he says, his thick scottish accent