“Absolutely,” said Ms. B. “When they’re not being used by the eSports club, they’re available for schoolwork. And they can run three-D modeling programs and Photoshop, which our present computers can’t handle.”

Principal Summers picked up one of the new headsets that had come with the Providias. “I just don’t see how an eSports club will ever replace the football team.”

“It’s awful that the school board had to cut football,” Ms. B said, “but hopefully, this will give students something else to focus on and get excited about.”

Principal Summers smiled thinly, as if she wasn’t sure that was true. “Do me a favor? Make sure the rest of the staff knows that these computers came from a grant. I don’t want anyone to think our school spent its meager funds on an eSports club.”

Ms. B promised she would. She’d known from the get-go that getting behind eSports in school was risky. But without their football team, she felt they had to do whatever they could to encourage school spirit.

The bell rang. Principal Summers had to get back to the office for the morning announcements. Ms. B went to her classroom. Even though school had been in session for only a few weeks, she no longer had to check the seating chart to know who wasn’t there. One student had been out for two days with a cold. Another’s mother had emailed that morning that her son wasn’t feeling well. And that left Zach Cook, who always came to class late.

Ms. B settled at her desk. She was eager to see how the kids would react to that morning’s announcements.

Sitting in the front row in Ms. B’s class, Caleb Arnett chewed anxiously on a pen. Just a short time ago, on the bus to school, he’d overheard Crosby telling Gavin about his plan to cheat on the geometry test that afternoon. Caleb didn’t think of himself as an angel, but he hated when kids cheated. The way he saw it, if everyone were allowed to cheat in school, that would be fine. Because it would level the playing field. But most kids chose not to cheat. Not always because they believed it was wrong, but because they knew that if they got caught, it would be a stain on their reputations. Caleb might have only been in seventh grade, but he was smart enough to know that once you got labeled a cheater, it stuck forever.

Caleb was trying to decide what to do about Crosby when the classroom door swung open, and Zach dashed in late as usual, lugging his backpack and wiping his face with a paper towel.

“Why are you late this time, Zach?” Ms. B asked.

Zach was a squirmy kid who never looked you in the eye. Hardly spoke. Had more nervous habits than anyone Caleb had ever seen. Bit his nails, chewed on his lip, picked at his scalp, blinked excessively, couldn’t sit still. “Sorry, Ms. B,” Zach said. “I spit myself.”