I am relatively new to a school when I get into a car accident while driving my very drunk friend home. I have also been drinking and I am arrested. When I go back to school, I go to my history class and unpack a lot of artwork—photos, pens, paper, glue, paper dolls—and make a pile of these supplies on my desk. My history teacher says something about my textbook but we have never needed our textbooks in his class before and I had stopped carrying it a couple of weeks ago. I am even confused by why he is talking about the textbook and look around, noticing that the person at the next desk is taking notes from the textbook, answering questions. I look up at the white board where there is an assignment with page numbers and question to be answered. The assignment is due at the end of the class period. I know the teacher is doing this to compromise my grade. As I sit there, looking at the things on my desk, I realize that I didn’t see anyone’s faces on my way to class, that I had been avoiding making eye contact with anyone as I was walking down the hall.