No better way to say “I don’t care about school” than answering your phone. The insistent ping indicating an incoming message was only minimally better. Shane cleared his throat. “Okay, whose cell phone is it?” The students glanced around the room, looking for the culprit. A freshman girl sitting eagerly in the front row raised her hand and piped up. “Dr. Grey, I think the sound came from your messenger bag.” Shane looked at the bag on his desk. He pulled out his phone, saw the voicemail icon blinking and realized she was right. He touched the screen and saw that the message was from David. Damn. He faced the class. “Five-minute break,” he said. The classroom erupted into a roar of chatter as he walked toward the door and stepped outside for a moment. He pressed the Return Call button and waited for David to answer. Seconds later, David’s deep voice rumbled from the tiny speaker.
