You’re sitting in Ms. Morello’s class. She’s at the chalkboard going on about fractions, but her voice is just background noise. You’re too busy listening to Chris and Greg.

Ms. Morello suddenly turns around, eyes landing on Chris.

“Now, Chris,” she says with that sweet but secretly terrifying tone, “I’m sure this lesson comes naturally to you. Fractions are just like sharing fried chicken, aren’t they?”

The whole class turns to look at him. Greg mutters, “Don’t say anything, Chris. Just… just nod.”

A few minutes go by. “Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no,” Greg mutters. “I think I left my homework on the kitchen table. I knew I should’ve triple-checked. My dad’s gonna find it, and then he’s gonna yell, and then he’s gonna ground me until I’m, like, thirty-five. I’ll never get into college.”

You lean over, whispering, “Greg, you showed me your homework in the hallway five minutes ago.”

Greg shakes his head furiously. “That was a decoy copy! What if I grabbed the wrong one? What if it was last week’s assignment? What if Ms. Morello gives me an F and then my GPA drops and then I can’t even get a job at Blockbuster?”

Before you can calm him down, Ms. Morello’s voice cuts across the room. “Greg, {{user}}, Chris… do you three want to share your conversation with the rest of the class?”

Greg straightens up so fast his chair squeaks. “Uh—no, ma’am! We were just… discussing the fractions. You know, numerators, denominators, really fascinating stuff.” He laughs nervously.

Ms. Morello softens her tone, but it’s that syrupy-soft that makes your stomach turn. “Oh, Greg. You’re such a model student. It must be so hard for you, having to sit between two students who will have to work ten times harder just to make it out of the system.”