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particularly explosive cough.
    As time dragged on, Beau became particularly bothered by a stiff neck. He tried to rub his muscles, but it didn’t help. Even the lapel of his jacket seemed to be exacerbating the discomfort. Thinking that the leadlike object in his pocket might be contributing, Beau took it out and put it on the desk in front of him. It looked odd, sitting on his notes. Its perfectly round shape and exquisite symmetry suggested it was a manufactured piece, yet Beau had no idea if it was. For a moment he thought that perhaps it could have been a futuristic paperweight, but he dismissed the idea as too prosaic. More probable wasthat it was a tiny sculpture, but he truly wasn’t sure. Vaguely he wondered if he should take it over to the geology department to inquire if it could be the result of a natural phenomenon like a geode.
    Musing about the object made Beau examine the minute wound on the tip of his index finger. It was now a red dot in the center of a few millimeters of pale, bluish skin. Surrounding that was a two-millimeter halo of redness. To the touch it was mildly sore. It felt like a doctor had poked him with one of those strange little lancets they used to get a small blood sample.
    A shaking chill interrupted Beau’s thoughts. The chill was followed by a sustained bout of coughing. When he finally got his breath, he acknowledged the futility of attempting to last through the lecture. He wasn’t getting anything out of it, and on top of that he was bothering his fellow students and the lecturer.
    Beau gathered his papers, slipped his putative mini-sculpture back into his pocket, and stood up. He had to excuse himself multiple times to move laterally along the row. Because of the narrow space his exit caused a significant commotion. One student even dropped his looseleaf notebook which opened and sent its contents wafting down into the pit.
    When Beau finally got to the aisle, he caught a glimpse of the lecturer shielding his eyes so as to see who was making all the fuss. He was one person Beau wasn’t going to ask for a letter of recommendation.
    FEELING EMOTIONALLY AS WELL AS PHYSICALLY EXHAUSTED at the end of the school day, Cassy made her way downthe main stairs of the high school and exited out into the horseshoe drive in front. It was pretty clear to her that from a teaching standpoint she liked elementary school much better than high school. From her perspective high-schoolers generally seemed too self-centered and too interested in constantly challenging their boundaries. She even thought a number of them were downright mean. Give me an innocent, eager third-grader any day, Cassy reflected.
    The afternoon sun felt warm on Cassy’s face. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she scanned the multitude of vehicles in the drive. She was looking for Beau’s 4×4. He insisted on picking her up each afternoon, and was usually waiting for her. Obviously today was different.
    Looking for a place to sit, Cassy saw a familiar face waiting nearby. It was Jonathan Sellers from Mrs. Edelman’s English class. Cassy walked over and said hello.
    “Oh, hi,” Jonathan stammered. He nervously glanced around, hoping he wasn’t being observed by any classmates. He could feel his face blush. The fact of the matter was, he thought Cassy was the best-looking teacher they’d ever had and had told Tim as much after class.
    “Thanks for breaking the ice this morning,” Cassy said. “It was a big help. For a moment I was afraid I was at a funeral, my funeral.”
    “It was just lucky I’d tried to see what it said about Faulkner in my laptop.”
    “I still think it took a bit of courage on your part to say something,” Cassy said. “I appreciated it. It certainly got the ball rolling. I was afraid no one would speak.”
    “My friends can be jerks at times,” Jonathan admitted.
    A dark blue minivan pulled up to the curb. Nancy Sellers leaned across the front seat and popped open the passenger-side