“Song told me to stay after class. “Time for a reality check, Zack,” she added. It was a few days after the incident at Elora Gorge Park, and our history class had spent the whole period taking up a test on seventeenth-century British North America, not exactly a captivating topic. To say I had failed the test badly would be putting it mildly—which didn’t help my already rotten average. I could just imagine the sermon Song was about to deliver. Even though I was failing her subject, I liked her.... Always in a hurry and often late, she was a tightly wrapped bundle of pure energy who flew up and down the halls like a demented sparrow. Bits of yarn held her long, crow-black hair behind her neck; her multicoloured dresses hung on her like curtains, almost brushing her clunky discount-store running shoes. Not what you’d call a fashion model. But she knew so much history that her students called her The Book. “Come up here,” she commanded in a not very commanding voice after the last kid had left the room and closed the door.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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