Chapter 7
Once the class had settled down, Dimple Guy choosing to sit directly behind me, Mr. Rogerstein, who by the way, looks exactly just how I pictured him, decided to immediately hand off a pop quiz. To each row, he passes one student a sheet of paper, barely looking at me when he came to my row, and proceeds to talk to the class.
“I have read your essays from last week,” he began, the whiskers of his mustache twitching. “And I am pleased to say that I am right: you have learned nothing in our past discussion of The Crucible and I can say that I have never been more ashamed.”
The Crucible? That’s what they have been tackling here? My mind is agog. I look around, making sure I am still in Danvers, the actual place where the witch hunts started. Surely these people know some of their
