She can't do it; she hides as much as possible

She shook her head, arguing silently with herself. She couldn't do that. This whole thing was embarrassing enough as it is. At least she could take some small crumb of comfort knowing that not everybody had seen everything. With one arm draped across her breasts, she pushed the door open with the other.

The room was laid out so that a desk and a series of whiteboards were at the front of the room, with a series of chairs and desks facing it in increasing height so that those at the back could see over the heads of those at the front. There were three stairs leading up the ranks of desks; one right by the class entrance, one straight in the middle and another at the far wall. A dozen students were scattered at desks near the front of the class, idly chatting amongst themselves. At first Emily was not noticed by the entire room, and the murmur of conversation continued. She didn't linger, but made her way up the nearest stairwell towards her desk about four rows back - right at the back of the group. As she ascended, however, the conversation slowly died out as those who had seen her fell quiet, and those who hadn't turned to look at what was silencing their friends. Every eye in the room was on her as she pulled back her chair with her free hand and took her seat.

"Uh, Emily?" an Asian student, Quan, said to her. "You forget something this morning?"

The group chuckled.

"I don't want to talk about it." Emily snapped back. Then a thought occurred to her. "Ah... could I borrow some paper and a pen though?"

"Oh yeah, that must be it." Quan said, grinning. She found herself blushing as the group laughed even more, although one of the girls - a skinny blonde she knew as Kara - stepped up to her desk with the requested stationary.

As she placed them onto Emily's desk, she leaned in close and whispered "You haven't been attacked or anything, have you?"

"No, no." she said, blushing. To Kara and the rest of the group she said, loudly, "I just got locked out of my room while taking a shower, is all."

Another of the girls - Emily didn't know her name, she just knew her as that slightly chubby brunette who wore dark lipstick - asked "Where's your towel then?"

"Stuck in a door." Emily lied. "Look, can we just ignore this? It's embarrassing and I just want to forget it."

Before the group could respond the classroom door opened and the professor stepped in. He was a genteel man in his mid-fifties, and wore a grey three piece suit and a pair of glasses. At first the desks blocked his sight of Emily, and he might not have noticed anything was amiss if it wasn't for the students all turned to face her.

"I'm sorry class, is the back wall of the room delivering today's lecture?" he asked, though not unkindly.

"No sir," the brunette replied triumphantly, "But Emily's forgotten something quite important today."

"Oh? Emily, is everything okay?"

He craned his neck to look at her. The class, grinning, looked between the two of them to see how the professor might react. Emily just wanted to die.