Most of the students seemed to be in the same Zombielike state as she. Kristi was beginning to recognize some. A few desks over was Marnie, the blonde she’d followed into Wagner House. Marnie, it seemed, was also a part of the group of friends including Trudie and Grace. Then there was Bethany, another girl in most of Kristi’s classes. She was busily taking notes, her fingers flying over the keyboard of her laptop as if Dr. Preston were giving out the answers to the universe.

One of those, Kristi thought as the girl asked a question to clarify a point on symbolism. A real suck-up.

Hiram glowered in his chair, and Mai was tuned into the lecture, taking fastidious notes.

Save me. This class was too basic for her taste. She’d already sold articles on true crime and she just wanted to hone her skills for the book she was putting together. She wasn’t certain Dr. Preston was the answer.

He must’ve read her thoughts. “Miss Bentz?” he said, his voice simmering with authority.

She froze.

“Am I boring you?” he asked, and when he stared at her, she wanted to melt into the floor. “Or you?” he said, swinging his gaze back to Hiram Calloway.

“Yeah,” Hiram said insolently. “You kinda are.”

“Kinda?” Preston said, snapping his chalk into his fist.

“Okay, no, you are. You’re boring me. I just want to write. I don’t think we need to study symbolism or imagery. We all took that in high school. Isn’t this supposed to be a college course? Sheeeiiiit.” With that he closed his laptop, stuffed his books into his backpack, kicked back his chair, and left the classroom.

Kristi thought all hell would break loose. But the anger in Preston’s face quickly disappeared. “If anyone else feels the way Mr. Calloway does, I invite you to leave at this time.”

The room went absolutely silent. No one even dared cough.

Preston’s glare traveled over each student and once he decided no one else was intent on leaving, he cleared his throat. “Good. Let’s continue…”

Once again he began flipping his chalk and pacing.

Kristi tried her best to pay attention. But it was hard. Hiram was right, the class was seriously boring.

She glanced at the clock and spent the next forty-five minutes noting that Trudie and Zena pretended interest in the class while texting each other. They held their cell phones just under the desk and were adept enough at working the keyboards to effectively “pass notes” without getting caught, which was a little weird. This was college, not junior high. But Kristi did her part as well, trying her best to read the information they sent back and forth.