Mrs. Jamison gestured to the diagram she'd drawn on the whiteboard. It looked sort of like one of those heart monitors one saw in hospitals, straight, then abruptly up, then down, then straight again. As had happened already during that morning's class session, as had happened every year of the past thirty, the aging school marm feigned excitement about the plot diagram.

It wasn't even news to her class of seven miserable summer school students, who'd heard this information for years now. Not well enough for any of the seven of them to pass the class the first time around, but still. Their teacher was just happy the class was...