Blair Davenport slammed the door of their borrowed classroom with enough force that the wood cracked against the frame. Four faces turned toward her—none displaying appropriate levels of concern for the complete humiliation they'd just suffered.
"Garbage," she hissed. "He called us garbage."
Charles Leone leaned against the windowsill, his athletic frame blocking half the afternoon light. "Vale's an asshole. Always has been."
"A washed-up has-been who got kicked out of three guilds," Dante Pope added, not looking up from his phone. "Who cares what he thinks?"
"The entire academy cares what he thinks." Blair paced the length of the empty classroom, her designer boots clicking against the polished floor. "He just announced to our entire class that we're entitled failures who can't coordinate for shit."
Javier Mendoza raised his hand like they were still in lecture. "To be fair, our coordination could use some work. Remember the wolf simulation when Charles broke formation to—"
