“Mr. Indovina, no doubt you moved your eyes over the pages of this book, but what do you really know?” Oglesby returned to the front of the class and opened his planner. “Prove to me you read this book.”

Indovina spoke in a slow, perplexed pitch, as if bringing his teacher up to speed. “Odysseus returns to Ithaca. He kills the suit—”

“Yes, yes, yes. We know that. Everyone who listened to Homer sing his alexandrines for the first time knew that already. Okay.” Oglesby closed his eyes again and held up his hand. “I have two tests in mind for next week. The first is a multiple-choice test on the themes of the hero, which will be fairly easy if you’ve been paying attention in this classroom. The second test will be a comprehensive essay, examination, and close reading about every character and event that took place in The Odyssey. That test will be near impossible.

“We’re going to play a game. How well this class answers my questions in the final ten minutes of this period will determine which test I prepare and how much suffering your weekend will entail. Now, the class as a whole will be given five strikes—five wrong answers, your fate is sealed, and the close-reading test guaranteed.”

“Can we play Monday—after we’ve prepped for this?” Liam Plimmer, a big grade hound, was worried about the ruin of his GPA at the hands of others.

“No.”

“But that’s not fair.”

“Rule number one, Mr. Plimmer: life is unfair.” Oglesby picked up his well-creased copy of the Rouse translation.

“Mr. McGhee, let’s start with an easy one. What does it mean to keep the Bear or Wagoner on your left as you sail the sea at night?”

Rob was good at stalling until answers came to him, but not today. “Well, in ancient times, the currents of the Mediterranean—”

“It refers to the Big Dipper,” Oglesby said with dirgelike certainty. “Strike one. Mr. Tsao.”

Ethan Tsao rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, annoyed at getting called on.

“Name me three of the four rivers of the underworld.”

“Uh, the Styx, the Aching—”

“Acheron. Continue.”

“Uh . . .”

“Strike two.” It was clear Oglesby wasn’t kidding around. “The Pyriphlegethon and Cocytos are the other two. Mr. Warner—”

“Pass.” A doomed laughter spread through the sophomores.

“Strike three. Mr. Hardy?”

“Strike four. Pass.”

Oglesby shook his head and grabbed his chin. “Gentlemen, this is honors English. If you don’t do the reading, if you want to be babied like a bunch of freshman smart-asses, I have a hundred exercises in vocabulary and grammar.” Oglesby pounded the teacher’s desk with Keisaku. “Reading is paying attention! I can’t teach you to think about the big questions when you can’t command the basic details. Four strikes. And I’m going to be benevolent and pick someone who thinks they’ve done the reading. Mr. Dowlearn.”

“Come on, Rick.”