Just a second." Mizz Delma punched at her keyboard. "90th percentile. What do you do in class, Dana?" I actually pay attention, at least some, especia...ly in social studies and science. I think I got English through heredity," I quipped, smiling at Gramma. "Math, though ... It HAS to be that way." Has to be?" Mizz Delma asked."Yes, ma'am. No amount of opinion is going to change the multiplication tables or the order of operations. It just has to be that way." I went on about my study hall. She blinked and looked into his yellow eyes, knowing him slowly, more and more each minute. Associating his calm voice with the dream. With the man she had run into in the woods. The sharp cut of his nose, the fullness of his lips, the feel of his bare finger on her cheek. She didn’t know if she should be fleeing these things or letting him continue to look at her just so, to touch her just so. She blinked at him, studying the cruel wrinkles around a mouth obviously more used to frowning than. More

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