Ugh. Ugh. UGH.

She wasn't liking this lesson. The subject she's been trying to avoid for years has finally come and smacked her right in her face. It was worse than talking to her shrink about stuff. This was for a grade, so she felt forced to participate or take notes.

As it was, she couldn't bring herself to answer the question. She'd been there when it happened. She'd been holding her hand and...

BREATH, WAYNE.

Letting her hair fall over her face and pretending to be jotting down notes, Beverly counted to ten to keep herself together. It was the past. Nothing more to it. She had to move on, that's what Grandmother said. Reaching ten, she breathed in and out slowly. Okay, she was good...not really, but her mind was starting to numb itself.

Getting a good grip on her quill, she wrote down some notes; not even a smidgen of energy to glare at the Poop-head Ravenclaw.