It's the first Saturday in a long time she has a chance to sleep in; naturally, she's up at dawn. After a shower and shaving there's not anything to actually do for the next sixteen hours, though, except periodically open the fridge and check on the corsages (white roses, a red ribbon for her and a purple one for Laura), and check that her shoes ( Read more... )

"--no, Mr. Luz, stop." Mr. Hairald sighs. "Look. I know the month is almost up and we're all tired, but really, seriously, this is one of the good ones. Let's get it right ( Read more... )

This week in Shakespearean Tragedies, they're mowing their way through Lear; their four weeks for five plays is passing quickly ( Read more... )

Study hall ( Read more... )

When you're ground--grounded far beyond all sanity or sense, beyond the reaches of the Geneva Convention, into a daily round that consists of school and athletic practices and homework and conversations with your mother and sleep and nothing else--little things become important ( Read more... )