“They traded me for forty-five thousand dollars a semester.”

Rachel wrapped the blood pressure cuff around my upper arm and fastened the Velcro.

“People make their choices, Hannah,” Rachel said.

“And then they have to live with them.”

“They don’t get to rewrite history later.”

She pressed a blue button on the monitor.

The cuff squeezed tight against my skin.

“They think I’m just going to disappear,” I said.