3
Trouble
Monday morning found me running behind schedule. I hate walking into class late. When I arrived, Mr. Treadwell’s classroom door was wide open but he was nowhere in sight. There were four smartly dressed people sitting in the front row, and another leaning against the desk facing the class. I recognized one as my academic counselor.
The lady leaning against the desk smiled warmly. “You’re in the right place. Come on in, it’s okay.”
Everyone was quiet as I lugged my duffel bag up the steps and grabbed a seat next to Greg. I looked around; everyone seemed to be waiting for something. “What’s up?” I asked Greg.
“Heck if I know,” he shrugged. “Guess Treadwell’s running late.”
“How’d your speech go?” I asked.
“Dude,” he said, shaking his head. “Those guys were assholes. They did
