CHAPTER TWELVE
After lunch, which Gabe barely remembered eating since the word ethereal kept bouncing around in his head, he strolled down the hall to his next class. His lips puckered in a grin. He barely refrained from shouting the words to the world, “Mr. Smith likes my work, even though it’s not finished. He called it ethereal, and he’s not a man to crack jokes.”
He made a face at a boy standing nearby, snickering at Gabe. He had the final laugh, however, when the boy now texting something on his cell, not paying attention to other students, ran smackdab into a girl, her eyes also focused on her cell.
She snarled as they both tumbled to the floor, arms tangling, legs bent at crooked angles, cells sliding across the tiles.
“Oh, oh, I’m sorry,” the boy said. He sat up and reached out
