Monday

"Are you done?"

Jamie doesn't even have to turn around to know who Ms. Chapple is talking to. He sighs and leans forward, resting his chin in his hand—irritated, as usual, by the chatty blonde sophomore who sits three desks behind him. Her tittering dies down and she offers a quick, giggly "Sorry" while Ms. Chapple waits for silence.

"Now, I know it's mean to assign a project over break, and I'm sorry," the teacher continues, earning a collective groan from the twenty students who sit in front of her. "But the school board still wants to display your work at the winter open house, even though they moved it up by two weeks this year. So giving you the assignment now is the best way to make sure you've got enough time to get it done."

"Nobody's going to work on it over break." It's not the annoying sophomore this time, but it's one of her two senior partners in crime.

"And that's why I have a little incentive for you all," Ms. Chapple says. "I plan to have judges who'll watch your in-class presentations and vote on the best creative solution to the traffic problem. The winners will get five bonus points to use on a test in the third quarter, and gift certificates to Pressey's Ice Cream Parlor on Sterling."

This catches Jamie's attention. He couldn't care less about free ice cream, but five extra points on a calculus test? Considering he got an 86 on last week's quiz—he can't remember the last time he scored that low on anything—he can use all the points he can get. He exchanges a glance with Thomas Cline, knowing that his friend is thinking the same thing: they're two of the best students in the class, and together they're sure to kick this project's butt. Ms. Chapple might as well hand them As and send them off to Pressey's right now.

"One more thing," Ms. Chapple says, and the students quiet themselves again. "You won't be choosing your own partners for this project. I've already assigned pairs and given everyone a different intersection to work with."

The room fills with more grumbles of protest. Thomas's panicked expression mirrors Jamie's as their smug confidence evaporates. Thomas is the only classmate Jamie trusts with something as important as a project with extra credit on the line. He twists in his front row desk to sweep the room, barely holding back a grimace as he confirms that he doesn't want any of these clowns to influence his grade.

Ms. Chapple rolls her eyes and laughs a little at the reaction. "Oh, relax, it's not the end of the world. Go ahead and get out your problem sets, and I'll call you back to give you your assignment sheets."

Nobody listens; instead they all turn to their neighbors to whisper about this development.

"This is stupid," Thomas hisses.

"If she wants good projects for the open house, she should let us pick partners," Jamie agrees.

"Yeah—like, I'd see you over Christmas anyway, so we could've just gotten it done…"

"And I need the extra credit."

"Bullshit," Thomas whispers, and Jamie sends a nervous glance around the room. To his relief, Ms. Chapple is busy with the first pair and she doesn't hear. "An A-minus is not actually a bad grade, Jamie."

"No, I got a B on the last quiz!"

"Oh, no! Jamie got a B on a quiz that everybody else failed!" Thomas teases. "What's he going to do?"

"Shut up," Jamie groans.

"Thomas and Jacob, you're up," Ms. Chapple calls.

Thomas gives Jamie an apprehensive look as he slides out of his seat. He heads back to the teacher's desk, and Jamie's last hope for a good partner dissolves. He doubts that any of the remaining students will be willing to do schoolwork during Christmas break. With a sigh, Jamie accepts that if he wants those extra points he'll have to do his entire project himself.

Jamie doesn't focus on the worksheet of Rolle's Theorem problems in front of him. He just listens as Ms. Chapple continues to call more pairs. Hannah Kirkland, the only junior in the class besides Thomas and himself, is pretty good at math—but she ends up with Emma. Matthew Reilly, a senior Jamie knows from debate, wouldn't be awful to work with—and then he gets matched with one of the annoying sophomore's equally annoying friends.

"Let's see. Eddie and Jamie, come on back."

What? No. No, no, no. Jamie would rather work with Zack Derstein, who's had senioritis since 10th grade, than the actual 10th grader who shouldn't even be in such a high-level math class. She constantly asks dumb questions in class, whispers to her friends for clarification—Jamie knows she won't be able to keep up with him, and he doesn't have time to help her.

Eddie grins at him as they make their way up the narrow aisles to Ms. Chapple's desk in the back of the classroom. Jamie scowls back so that both his teacher and his new partner understand exactly how he feels about this arrangement.

"Okay. Jamie and Eddie. Here you go." Ms. Chapple turns two packets around so that the students can see them right side up from across her desk. "You're going to be dealing with traffic flow at 5th and Union. This is a hard one, since it's two-way streets in both directions, but I think you two can handle it. This equation models traffic flow with respect to time of day, and the full instructions are on the second page. You should start thinking about it this week so you can ask any questions before break, got it?"

Eddie nods enthusiastically, her shoulder-length blonde waves bouncing in Jamie's peripheral vision. He just mutters, "Got it," and takes his copy of their packet to his seat.

"Hey Jamie! Jamie! Jamie Reagan!"

Jamie turns slowly as he finishes at his locker, wondering for a moment whose unfamiliar voice calls to him across the hall. He locates his math partner dodging through the crowded hallway, moving against the end-of-day traffic to get to him. She pushes her way over and leans back against the locker next to his.

"Hi, Eddie." How did she know where to find his locker?

"When do you want to meet for the project?" she asks.

"Um…"

"Because I have half an hour right now. We could start."

Jamie glances at his watch. "Sorry. I have debate."

"Until when?"

"Five."

"What about after?"

"After?" Jamie repeats. "I have to be home for dinner."

"Oh. Dinner." Eddie chews on her bottom lip, eyes darting around the hallway as she thinks. "Tomorrow after school?"

Jamie shakes his head. "Debate. It's every day. Uh, how early can you get here?"

"You mean before school?"

"Yeah."

She looks at him as if she's never heard a dumber question. "I have practice."

"Practice?"

"Swim practice." She grabs the zipper of the fleece jacket she wears over her uniform and holds it out so Jamie can see the embroidered logo: Brooklyn Barracudas.

"In the morning?"

"Yeah, swim practice, in the morning. What's with the questions?"

"Sorry," Jamie says. "I just—"

"Jamie, you coming?"

Jamie looks up to see Thomas approaching behind Eddie. "Yeah, let's go," he says, shutting his locker with a clang.

"Wait, but what about—?" Eddie yelps.

"I don't know. We'll figure it out later," Jamie tells her, though it's an empty promise. He'd rather do the whole project himself than let her drag down his grade, so if they can't find a time to meet—well, Jamie certainly won't lose sleep over it.