He cheated his eyes open a sliver. The red numbers glared 7:17. Alek did the math in his head, desperate for a computation that allowed him one more snooze without being late. But when the numbers refused to cooperate, he had to hurl himself out of bed and onto the floor, letting the impact smash him into consciousness. He lay like that for a moment, wondering what Faustian bargain he could make to get out of having to go to the first day of summer school. But there was no flicker of hope, no appearance of a demonic power. Apparently, no one was interested in his soul. The five days that had elapsed since the end of the school year proper didn’t even seem like a minivacation, especially since the rain made Alek spend most of the weekend cooped up with his family. “Hurry up if you want breakfast,” Alek heard his father scream up from downstairs. Alek had perfected the art of getting ready in twelve minutes flat. He stumbled into the bathroom, turned the shower on, and, while it was warming up, gathered his notebooks and textbooks.
