“That’s all I’m trying to do here with Paul. To give him a good grounding in science. He doesn’t have to find a cure for cancer, but he should at least know, for example, what keeps an airplane aloft, the aerodynamic principles involved that keep it from crashing to the ground.”

I’ve never really understood why airplanes don’t crash into the ground, but this didn’t seem like a good time to ask for an explanation.

“Paul’s got a 55 for this semester, and there’s only a few weeks left of school, and a major exam coming up, and he’s going to have to work hard to make his mark a passing one,” the teacher said. “And it would help a lot if Paul spent less time listening to his little gadgets and more time listening to me when I’m speaking.”

“Gadgets?” I asked.

“Pagers and phones and those, what do you call them, MP5 players?”

“MP3,” Paul corrected her. “That’s all I’ve got. I don’t bring a phone or pager to class.”

“As you can imagine,” Ms. Wilton said, addressing me, “it’s very difficult to compete for attention against all the technological toys that are out there these days.”

I nodded. “Sure, I can—”

And the cell phone in my jacket pocket started to chirp. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Could you excuse me for just a second?”

I turned around in the chair, reached into my pocket, and withdrew the phone. “Hello?” I said, smiling sheepishly over my shoulder at Ms. Wilton.

“Zack?”

Sarah.

“I totally forgot. I tried to get you at home and there was no answer. The interview with Ms. Winslow.”

“Wilton,” I said, smiling at the teacher.

“Yeah. You’re supposed to be there.”

“It’s under control,” I said. “We’re doing it right now.”

“Oh, God, sorry. I better go.”

“No, that’s okay.”

“What’s the teacher say?”

“Well, he needs to be paying more attention, you know, that kind of thing. How ‘bout with you? How’s it going there?”

“Oh, pretty quiet. A fire downtown. But this is interesting. They’ve called out the homicide guys in Oakwood. Not too far from our place. Some woman bought it.”

“Really?”

“Some kid, going to the door trying to sell chocolate bars, finds the driveway covered in blood, it’s leaking out from the garage, cops come and find this woman with her head bashed in. I got two people out there, trying to get something for the morning edition.”

Ms. Wilton was starting to look, if this was possible, even more annoyed.

“Listen,” I said. “I’ll give you a call later, okay?”

“Okay. See ya.”

I slipped the phone back into my jacket. “Sorry.”