Zora looked from the box to her brother to her mother. Her face went blank in the honest way children go blank when adults invent causes. "Mine worked fine."
The laptop chimed. A live call window pushed the CampusPath timeout aside. Ms. Farah Okello appeared in a red top, shoulder-length dark hair neat, eyes already lined with the particular tiredness of teachers who have already sent three reminder emails. She was stern without raising her voice, the kind of stern that came from caring enough to be precise.
"Marcus. You disappeared from the assignment again."
Marcus held the shattered phone up to the webcam so the spiderweb filled the frame. "It keeps dying."
On the other side of the island, Yvette froze with a bag of rice in her hands. Her mouth opened and closed once. "He's been submitting homework from that phone for three months?"
Zora slid the new phone box across the white counter until it touched Marcus's elbow. She did it carefully, as if the box might bruise. "Give this one to him."
Yvette's face, stunned, held for a second in the pendant light. Then the call window waited, and the refrigerator hummed, and nobody moved as if moving would decide something permanent.
Ms. Okello cleared her throat. "Marcus. Can you hear me?"
"Yes, Ms. Okello."
"I need the primary-source annotation for Unit Four uploaded by midnight. If the device is failing, use a school Chromebook in the library tomorrow and email me. Do not vanish from CampusPath mid-save again. I have half a paragraph and a blank comment field where your evidence should be."