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“I heard about the fight. Peyton shouldn’t talk trash about Jesse’s mom. That ain’t right.”
    “I couldn’t agree more.” She needed to get past this little Hispanic gatekeeper and start her class. “How many do we have gone today?”
    She slipped past the girl into the room.
    “A bunch,” Carlita whispered, walking behind.
    “Ali Griffith, Dorry Tomms, Stephanie Templeton, Edmund Sheridan, Billy Quintana.”
    Bonnie scanned the empty desks. “Have you called the library to see if Edmund’s down there?”
    “Of course.” She gave Bonnie a look that asked if she thought her mentally challenged. “First thing I did.”
    “All right, have a seat.” The entire Knowledge Bowl team gone? That wasn’t like them. She took a breath and faced her class. “Take out last night’s homework.”
    Salvador, a serious young man in front-seat-center raised his hand. “Missus P, you didn’t give us any home-work.”
    She remembered the fight. It was fast becoming the gift that kept on giving. “Fair enough. Let’s correct that right now.” She ignored the groans and wrote the previous night’s assignment on the board.
    When she turned around, a girl in the back of the room had her hand raised. “How about the story you were going to tell yesterday?”
    First Carlita, now this child. When had the inmates gotten control of the asylum?
    “Maybe after we’ve covered the math. I’m not making any promises. Let’s concentrate on The Witch of Agnesi and its parametric cousins.”
    The next hour and ten minutes she put her students through their paces, changing the parameters of the dual equations, noting the corresponding changes in the graphs. When at last they all came up for air, she laid down her chalk. Perhaps Marie Agnesi’s story would solidify the Mathematics in their minds.
    “Okay, I believe the question was how The Witch of Agnesi got its name.”
    A knock sounded on her door. Lloyd Whittaker poked his head in the room, his face ashen. “Can I see you in the hall for a moment?”
    From the back of the room someone whispered, “Not again.”
    She didn’t even try to identify the whisperer. She excused herself and joined Lloyd outside her door. “What’s wrong?”
    “I can’t go into specifics right now, but Superintendent Divine is going to hold an emergency assembly the last fifteen minutes of fourth period.”
    Her heart raced. “Is this about Peyton?”
    Lloyd wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
    “Not exactly.” He glanced up and down the hallway looking uncomfortable.
    He’s not going to tell me. She stared impatiently at her long time friend. “Come on, Lloyd, what’s this all about?”
    He drew a long breath and released it in a sigh. “Bon, don’t make me say any more than I have to. Now please go back in your class and inform them of the assembly.”
    Anger replaced impatience. Her Imp of the Perverse prodded her to push Lloyd. “You’re scaring me, Lloyd. Can you at least give me a hint?”
    His face grew hard. He took her hands in his. “No, I can’t give you a hint. Stop asking me to give you special treatment.” He gave her hands a squeeze and walked away.
    As she stood staring at his departing back she heard him whisper, “Shit, shit, shit.”

    BONNIE’S CHEST ACHED.
    She stared at her hummus and pinion nut sandwich. Unable to swallow the bite she’d taken, she spit into her napkin and folded it. All around, the voices of her colleagues echoed through the teacher’s lounge. Behind her at the other long table, a pair of new teachers laughed. Angry tears clouded her vision. Indistinct noises echoed across her senses but couldn’t penetrate her personal fog.
    “Mind if I join you?” a voice behind her asked.
    Bonnie blinked at her tears trying to put a face to her intruder.
    Armen Callahan, the new Science teacher, stood above her, holding a blue plastic tray with both hands. She’d seen him in the halls dozens of times, but since he taught Junior High they