[ELTINGVILLE NY, 2002]

Fourty period. Math class. 10:42 A.M. First row on the far right.

you were scribbling down answers onto your packet. Geometry. You were decently good at math. Not the smartest, but definitely not the dumbest.

The boy behind you, Jerry, reached out and poked your shoulder, his voice timid.

"What's the answer for number 12..?" he asked in a shaky voice, pushing some of his sandy spiky hair away from his squinty eyes.