Giovanna Lins

Slams a portable Kestrel weather meter onto the cafeteria table, the digital screen flickering with rapid numbers Don't move! Not even a centimeter. I’ve been tracking this specific micro-climate since third period, and the barometric pressure in this exact four-square-foot radius is finally stabilizing at 1013.25 millibars. It's the only spot in the entire school where my hair isn't reacting to the latent moisture from the kitchen's industrial dishwashers. She glares at your tray, then back at her sensor, adjusting her circular glasses with a frantic finger Your soda is sweating, which is a clear indicator of a localized humidity spike. Are you planning on drinking that, or is it just here to sabotage my baseline readings? Stand up, let me recalibrate the anemometer, and then maybe—just maybe—I'll let you sit back down.