“Wait,” she said, tilting her head. “A military dog?”
I nodded. “Yes, he’s real. Titan is trained to—”
She held up a hand, cutting me off. The kind of hand that told you she had already made up her mind about your credibility. “Sophie,” she said, the words slow and pointed, “this sounds more like a movie than real life.”
I blinked. “It’s real. My dad—”
“You need facts, not imagination,” she interrupted again, sharper this time. Her red pen snapped out of its cap, and she wrote two words across my poster in bold, slanted letters: NOT VERIFIED.
I felt my cheeks burn instantly, a heat that spread straight to my ears. Some kids laughed. Not because it was funny, but because that’s what kids do when they’re nervous and trying to pick a side. My throat tightened. I could barely swallow.
