The noise level in the small classroom rose substantially as the door flung open and students began to parade inside. Joanna Barnes looked up from the papers she’d been grading, a bright smile pulling at her lips. Greetings rang out warmly as one student after the other found their way to a seat for the third-period history class.

“Good morning, Ms. Barnes!”

“Hey, Ms. B!”

“Ms. Barnes! What up?”

She twisted the cap back onto the red pen she was holding and slid it and the test papers from her previous class into her desk drawer. Rising to her feet, she returned the gesture, greeting each student warmly as she moved to stand by the door.

“Mr. Parsons, good morning! Miss Hayes, how are you? Take a seat, please, Mr. Tolliver!”

The energy in the room was palpable, everyone anxious about the test they would soon be taking. This was one of the honors classes, the students all exceptionally bright and especially motivated. Over half had already been notified of their early acceptance into college, with most of them headed to Ivy League institutions. They were considered the elite of their graduating class. They challenged Joanna to insure the curriculum was one that would not only boost their individual class rankings but also kept them interested; boredom was easily the kiss of death for any teacher.

The test they were taking was on the early Industrial Revolution in England and Wales, with the emphasis on the plight of women during that time period. Joanna had no doubts most, if not all, would pass with flying colors. There were one, maybe two exceptions determined to buck the system, no matter where they were in life.

The last student through the door was one of her more challenging pupils. Standing a foot taller than most of the class, Damon Morrow was one of their star athletes, playing varsity football and basketball in the fall and baseball in the spring. Keeping him off academic probation had become a full-time job all on its own and, despite his obvious intellectual genius, his was an issue of effort, or rather lack of. He was smart and talented, but he was lazy as hell. Damon Morrow was content to fly through life on his dashing good looks and the trust fund he would inevitably inherit when he turned twenty-one.

“Mr. Morrow, good morning,” Joanna said warmly. “You studied, I hope.”

The young man shrugged broad shoulders. “Do we have to take this test today, Ms. Barnes?”

“Yes, we do,” she said matter-of-factly. “Everything under your desks, please. And get your pencils ready.”

Damon sat, still scrolling through messages on his cell phone instead.

“Phones away,” Joanna said, tapping her nails lightly against the desktop. “If I see any phones during the exam, I will confiscate them. Your parents will have to come get them from me at the end of the semester, and I mean it.”

Damon shot her a quick look. “Hey, Miss Barnes, did you hear?”

She blew a soft sigh. “Did I hear what, Mr. Morrow?”

“Everyone’s

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