Mr. Silva was flapping around in his white lab coat when Darby and Ann came into class. The bell still echoed inside the classroom, but Mr. Silva was wasting no time. Darby stared at the blank board. How could Mr. Silva do this to her? And then his words registered. “Pop quiz?” Darby’s whisper joined a student chorus of horror. “The delayed start gave you two extra hours to study. Or sleep.” Mr. Silva pointed his index finger and swept it from one side of the classroom all the way to the other. “Judging by the fifty percent of you who didn’t turn in your online homework, and my nearly empty in-basket, I’d say it was the latter.” “It’s not bad enough we nearly died in an earthquake?” Ann moaned. “Miss Potter, feel free to elaborate on your near-death experience in the essay portion of the quiz,” Mr. Silva said. He paused a minute, looking from Ann to Darby and back to Ann, before handing her a stack of papers to pass back. “I must say I’m surprised at your lack of concern for your team project.”
