At three o’clock, she packed her books back into the canvas tote bag.

“I have a study group at four,” she said.

She slung the heavy bag over her shoulder.

“I’ll tell Mom you’re doing fine,” she said.

She walked out of the room without looking back.

The sun went down just after seven.

The fluorescent lights in the corridor hummed a low, steady note that crept into my room.

Rachel walked in carrying a fresh pitcher of ice water.