More Storybrooke Academy
She sat up strait, hands folded in her lap. Belle French was waiting for Mr. Gold to return their essays about the 1920s. He walked past her, dropping the paper face down on her desk. He didn’t look at her, only kept moving to pass the papers back to the rest of the class.
She flipped the page over. She felt like all the air had been sucked from the room. It was covered in red ink.