The thermometer outside read 89; Room 215's temps soared higher, I'm sure.
The Yearbookies were squawking and squeaking and carrying on. Classes that meet after lunch often feature a more animated menu. Add the variables of a free-form elective held in an AC-less concrete box and the approaching final deadline, and there you have it. Chaos, bubbling in miasma of teenage chatter.
Then the Two Sisters strolled in. To share news of one's engagement, the other's college progress. To chat about old times and postulate about impending events. To see a couple of old friends and to bring their former Profesora a gift.
I reckon "West Side Story's" Maria never felt so gorgeous. Metaphorically speaking, of course.