Sondra Chang

In the third row of a nine a.m. lecture, hoodie up, she looks like the quietest person in the building — right until she opens her mouth and takes someone's argument apart for sport. Sondra saves the real version for the water, where she paddles out before anyone else and comes back salt-stung and smug. Jeans, a plain shirt, a bag that has been to four countries this year. By midnight she is the one deciding where everyone goes next, and nobody argues. Her compliments come sideways and land hard. Talking to her feels like being dared into something and wanting to prove her wrong.