Whoever the man standing in front of them was, he was mouthwateringly handsome in sharply creased khakis and a matching shirt rolled to the elbows. He was brown from the sun, with gray eyes the color of a mourning dove. With his crop of unruly-looking dark curly hair, he could have passed for Greek, Spanish, or possibly Jewish. He looked exceptionally tall standing on a raised dais. Sam put him at six-three or-four. Strong chin that jutted out with unbelievable dimples when he smiled. His teeth were magnificent.

Sam jerked herself to awareness. What difference did it make what the guy looked like? What she wanted to know was who and what he was and how he would relate to her in the year she would be there. Sitting next to her, Hawkins cleared his throat as if to say, let’s get on with it. Those in front of her seemed to be fidgeting and squirming in their seats. Obviously, everyone’s patience was wearing thin.

The man stepped down from the dais and started to pace in front of the room as he talked. “My name is Kollar Havapopulas. Everyone calls me Pappy.” He walked over to one end of room, where a stack of bright yellow folders waited. He picked them up and carried them back to the front of the room. “When I call your name, stand up so we can all see who you are. Tell me which team you belong to.”

Pappy! The guy on the Blackberry! Double damn. Who was it that said Pappy was high up in the chain of command? Probably Poke. Then again maybe it was Mateo. Hmmm. So, her first assessment was right. He was Greek. Sam’s heart kicked up an extra beat as she listened to the roll being called. The man didn’t acknowledge any of them as he called their names. He didn’t blink or nod or smile. When she heard her name, she stood up and stared directly at him. A devil perched itself on her shoulder. She winked, as if to to say, yes, I’m the one who gave you and Donovan a run for your money. He looked startled, she had to give him that. She sat down, her heart beating trip-hammer fast inside her chest.

The introductions over, Pappy carried the yellow folders back to the table under the far window. He stared outside for a few seconds before he returned to the class. He wondered which one had communicated with him over the Blackberry.