Page 388 of Playing Dirty

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The word “okay” didn’t leave my head all morning.

Not because it was dramatic.

Because it was useless.

It didn’t mean anything anymore in this context.

I got to campus early again, earlier than Mia, earlier than most people.

The halls were empty in that uncomfortable way where you can hear your own thoughts too clearly.

My phone stayed in my hand the entire walk.

No new messages.

That was worse than messages.

Because it meant waiting without structure.

Mia finally showed up ten minutes later, holding coffee like it was a weapon.

“You look like you didn’t sleep,” she said.

“I did.”

“That’s a lie.”

I didn’t argue.

We walked into the media lab together.

Everyone was already talking.

Not loudly.

Carefully.

That was the difference now.

Careful conversations meant something had already spread.

Professor Bennett stood at the front with her tablet.

“Before class begins,” she said, “I want to address expectations.”

That alone made the room tighten.

She continued:

“You will not chase narratives you cannot verify.”

My stomach sank slightly.

Because that wasn’t just general advice anymore.

It was directed at us.

At me.

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