Across the room, I noticed Blair's team huddled together, their body language screaming dysfunction.
Blair stood with her arms crossed, glaring at Charles, who was mansplaining something with grand gestures.
Javier kept trying to interject, his entire body radiating anxious energy.
Hikaru stood slightly apart, her expression completely neutral—which for her was the equivalent of absolute contempt.
Dante Pope, who I now recognized as a skinny, dark-haired boy with nervous eyes, kept checking his phone like he was praying for an emergency that would get him out of there.
God, what a beautiful disaster. Whatever team name they chose, "Functional Unit" wouldn't be it.
"We should register," Naomi said, pointing to Vale, who was now accepting team names at his desk.
"I'll do it," Belle volunteered, already pushing back her chair.
