“I slipped through Greenfield’s front doors with the brim pulled down as far as it would go. Ten paces into the building and Pritchard snatched it off. “No caps in school,” he droned. Then he realized who he was addressing. “Spencer? What happened to your hair?” “Trying to be more efficient, sir. Now that I don’t have to wash my hair in the morning, I have an extra thirty-three-point-six seconds to focus on writing my personal memoir.” Pritchard wasn’t amused. “Pick your hat up from my office at... the end of school.” • • • Things didn’t get itchy until third period. Fifteen minutes from the end of class, Mr. Rorshuck dropped a bomb on us. “Pop quiz,” he announced as he handed them out. “You have fifteen minutes.” Sitting directly behind Sarah Haversand, I noticed her scratching the top of her head as if deep in thought. “Start…now!” I attacked the first question. I spotted Martin Mendleson absentmindedly digging the tip of his pencil into his scalp.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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