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“I’ve never used that before.”
    Greedy smiled, then replied, “I can show you a few more tricks and moves, if you’d
like. You know, maybe I can get your number and we can meet up sometime to shoot
some pool.”
    â€œHow about I call you?” the girl replied.
    â€œOkay,” Greedy agreed, then looked over at us, grinning.
    After he gave her his number, he strolled back to our table. “Piece of cake.”
    â€œNope,” I shook my head. “The deal was, you had to get her number.”
    â€œOh, come on, now!” Greedy made a face.
    â€œI’m just kidding, man,” I admitted. “I’ll see what I can do for you, but I can’t
make any promises.”
    â€œCool,” Greedy said, with a big smile. “I’m telling you, if I can just get an interview,
then I can take it from there.”
    I stayed a couple more hours at the Tavern, and Lea was asleep in bed when I got
home. I tried not to make a sound as I climbed into bed, because I was sure she was
upset. I was sure I would hear about it in the morning.

Chapter 4
    I rushed to get to school the next morning. I left before Lea woke up. I wasn’t late,
but not as early as I liked to be. The bell hadn’t rung, and the students weren’t
in the hallways yet.
    As I entered my classroom, I was surprised to see Isabelle sitting at her desk again,
reading a book.
    â€œGood morning, Isabelle,” I greeted her.
    â€œGood morning.”
    â€œSo, you’re always here this early?” I asked.
    â€œYep,” she replied, drily.
    â€œIt’s always so cold in here,” I said, to make conversation. “You’re not cold?”
    She shook her head, no.
    â€œSo, what are you reading there?”
    Isabelle held up the book so I could see the cover.
    â€œ The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian ,” I read. “That’s a good book?”
    â€œYeah, it’s pretty good,” she replied, and went back to reading.
    â€œWell, hopefully you’ll enjoy the discussion we’re going to have from your summer
reading,” I said enthusiastically, and held up a copy of The Hunger Games . Maybe
I could connect with Isabelle about books and reading.
    â€œI read that like three years
ago,” Isabelle replied.
    â€œGood, good,” I responded. “Well, we’re not necessarily going to read the whole book
again. We’re going to look at a few passages and do a project.”
    â€œOh,” Isabelle remarked, unimpressed.
    â€œExciting, right?”
    Isabelle shrugged her shoulders, then went back to reading her book. We were definitely
not connecting. What the hell was wrong with this kid?
    â€œHey, Isabelle,” I started. “Let me ask you something. Why did you shake your head
when I asked Robin about herself? Is there something you think I should know about
her?”
    â€œIt was nothing,” she replied.
    â€œAre you sure?”
    â€œI said it was nothing,” Isabelle repeated.
    â€œAll right,” I said, returning to getting my paperwork ready for the day.
    â€œJust don’t ask her any questions,” Isabelle warned.
    â€œDon’t ask her any questions?” I asked, shocked. “What do you mean, don’t ask her
any questions?”
    Isabelle looked up from her book slowly, as if I was getting on her nerves, then
said, “From what I understand, she’s one of the quiet ones. So just don’t ask any
questions. It’s as simple as that.”
    â€œBut I’m going to ask questions and ask for participation from everyone,” I responded.
    Isabelle took a deep breath, then said, “Mr. Ramirez. Just don’t.”
    The bell rang. The voices of students and the sounds of locker doors opening and
closing filled the hallways.
    Isabelle went back to reading her book.
    â€œIsabelle,” I called to her.
    â€œKnock, knock!” Denise said, smiling and knocking on the