At first, the words didn't register. Will was staring at the scar on his arm, now a glossy shade of peach, his mind too immersed
in degrees, cosines, and algorithms
to hear. How could Mrs. O'Leary end 10 months of mathematical torment with such a laconic
"Pencils down, Mr. Lassiter!"
Her command jolted Will out of his stupor. He put down the pencil, and the world around him gradually came alive. Other students shifted in their seats. Papers rustled. Passing his test booklet to the girl in front of him, Will massaged his throbbing hand and then surveyed the room....