Burning, hot coffee was staining Michaelaâs white shirt. Making the girl grit her teeth together, almost as if she believed the pain from somewhere else would lessen the burn. Shutting her eyes tightly, her fingers clenched against her own cup. She wanted to yell at the other, to scream at them that they should be more careful with where they were going. But looking at her, Michaela realized that she was in her class. Laurel. The quiet one. She was probably nice and everything, but wouldnât get anywhere unless she started speaking up in class. Instead of yelling, which had been her initial thought, her mouth widened into her signature fake smile. Eyes almost bulging out of her lids, as she felt the other start to wipe at her shirt. Trying to erase the damage that had been done. Enwrapping her fingers around the girlâs thin wrist, she pressed it against Laurelâs chest. Expressing that she doesnât need her help. â Itâs all right, it happens. Next time, just watch where youâre going. âÂ