"Is it that funny?"

"How could it not be?"

Laura was grinning widely as she looked at the smartphone in her hand. Over her shoulder, I could see the image on the screen—a perfectly timed photo of Aihenhart getting knocked out by a flick on the forehead, the exact moment captured by none other than me.

In the photo, Aihenhart’s head was slumped forward, her shoulders raised, her face scrunched up as if suppressing a sneeze, and her arms awkwardly bent like a T-Rex.

"You don’t seem to like her much. Laughing at a photo like that."

"It’s not that …