In each class it was the same. Stacy took a seat in the back of the room, someone or other snickered when the teacher called his name, and for the next fifty minutes or however long it was until the bell rang again to release him he sat imprisoned, tapping his pen on the edge of his desk or glaring around the room at anyone who dared to look his way, or drawing skater tags on the front of his notebook. It being the first day of classes, none of the teachers had any real work scheduled, though Ms. Gillespie went through a list of books she thought they should all read over the next few weeks to help improve their comprehension skills, and there was a review in Stacy’s math class that he bombed completely.
That was his last period before lunch—English first, then a double class of something
