continuously dedicated to Dianna Lynn Metzler
No one dared breathe. If you could will yourself invisible, their class would be hard to teach. Frankson scanned their faces, searching for the one who silently screams pick me, pick me!
Your early high school years are detrimental to how the rest of your time locked inside will go. Freshmen cannot dare being labeled nerd or risk having only nerds for friends the next four years; something we learned and paid the price in junior high and Frankson recognized this and worked hard to help the teens adjust appropriately. He had the same issues in his day and the labels given him were now passed on him by his very students, something he wished for no one.
"Dianna." The rigid strawberry-blonde shifted just a bit, yet he could sense she'd be okay and her discomfort was for show. "Dianna, where might we find Byzantium in today's world?" Everyone around her sighed in relief as she mumbled about the Ottoman Empire, Turkey, and Constantinople... or something like that. I wouldn't know, it'd be years before I understood what they pounded into my head all those years.
But Dianna? She was a secret genius. I say secret because she didn't show it and I doubt she even knew.
[continue to page two]
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