"It’s worse," Marcus muttered, slumping in his chair. "It means she’s actually just better than us."
"Desks clear," he barked. "Eyes on your own paper. Any wandering eyes, and you get a zero. No exceptions."
Cleo looked around, confused by the hostility. "Yeah? Doesn't everyone?"
Mr. Henderson scanned the first page. Then the second. His eyebrows traveled higher up his forehead. He looked at Cleo, then back at the paper.
"I heard she has the answers tattooed on her inner arm," whispered Marcus from the back row, his eyes wide.
