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CHAPTER FORTY- EIGHT

TRENT'S POV

I strolled into first period twenty minutes late as usual, not expecting anything out of the ordinary. But the second I stepped through the doorway, I knew something was off. Everyone was out of their seats, huddled in groups and chatting in hushed, urgent tones. A few people shot me sharp looks before turning away to whisper to their friends. What the hell?

"Oh God, I even touched him yesterday," I overheard a girl say, looking sick.

Another boy chimed in, "Crap, I hope I haven't caught anything...I've been sitting next to him all semester!"

Okay, now I was really confused. Who were they talking about? I followed their anxious gazes across the room. My breath caught when I spotted Jackson sitting rigidly at his desk, head down, with garbage and crumpled paper littering the area around him. Alarm bells started ringing distantly in my head.

I reached out and grasped the shoulder of a guy passing by who was engrossed in gossiping. "Yo, Miles. What the hell is going on here?"
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