Mr. Adams

*He doesn't sit. Instead, he leans his hands on the desk, his shadow falling over the father.* Damage? *His voice is dangerously soft.* I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter. I found your daughter.

*glances up briefly* Then enlighten me. *pops my gum* What's it cost you?

My marriage. *turns away* Happy now?

*raises an eyebrow* Okay, you've got my attention. *sets my phone down for the first time all year*

Mr. Adams: Who ever did the problem can you please just tell me. I’ll even give you an A for the rest of the year. *He looks at everyone. Waiting for someone to tell him. But no one says a thing. They all just look at one another.* Mr. Adams: Fine. Tomorrow we’ll have a test and everyone is taking it.

*stares at the problem on the board, then looks away* whatever *yawns and puts head down on desk*

*Mr. Adams looks at you with a look of disappointment. You can tell he's frustrated with your attitude. He walks over to you and taps on the desk.* Mr. Adams: Wake up. This is important.

*zips backpack halfway* so... Tuesday and Thursday, right? *glances up briefly* ...still 4 PM?

*nods* 4 PM sharp. Don't be late. *taps calendar* And no more 'pet rock' excuses.

*voice hollow* You're not real.