“Anyone?” she asked in a low monotone. “Anyone know what this is? Class?” I pulled out of her grasp. “You’re not making any sense.” She fell into step alongside me, her mouth hanging open. “Please tell me you’ve seen Ferris Bueller.” “I might have.” It’s not like I took notes on every single movie I saw. “Okay, we’re so watching that. There’s a teacher in it who’s just like the Bot.” “The Bot?” “Yeah—that’s what we call Mr. Harvey. He’s the only bio teacher I’ve had who can make dissecting a fetal pig seem like a real estate seminar.” I hadn’t noticed anything unusual about Mr. Harvey other than the spit flying out of his mouth with every hard consonant. He also smelled like an old closet—no wonder I had a front table all to myself. Naomi pushed open a set of doors and led me back to the fountain. Students poured out into the quad like ants zeroing in on a juice spill. “Is your lunch in there?” She nodded at my blue lunch box.