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the papers for his class schedule. He couldn’t remember what class he had first. Finally, he located the blue sheet with his schedule on it. Bio Lab, with Mr. Webb.
    He shuddered. He had seen Mr. Webb wandering around the halls before. The guy looked like a hermit crab that lost its shell. He walked like one, too, always scuttling between the two labs in the basement with all sorts of vials and tools. Jim hauled his grocery bag of books onto his shoulder and started down the staircase to the basement.
    He tried not to freak out as he walked down the long, windowless cement corridor to the labs. He didn’t like it down here, where there weren’t any windows. The basement was kind of a no man’s land, a place where the people who skipped class went to smoke or draw body parts on the wall. The hallway was dim, lit by a single bulb clicking on and off. He turned around, looking longingly back up the stairs.
    Nothing good happened in the basement. Last year, Shane had given him a swirly down in the forgotten basement bathroom. For about five minutes. Jim had thought he was going to drown.
    “Only the strong survive here, Jim Blest,” Shane had told him. “You’re not one of them.”
    The bell rang and Jim started to run toward the classroom. He could hear Mr. Webb’s nasally voice as he ushered the last few people through the door. Jim picked up speed. Just as he dashed around the corner, he caught a flash of dark hair coming from the hallway to his right. And then, suddenly, there was a blinding pain in his head and he reeled backward, dropping his grocery bag. All of his books and papers exploded across the tiled floor.
    “Ow!”
    “Sorry, sorry! I was just trying to—Jim? Here, let me help.”
    Jim opened his watering eyes. Claire crouched next to him, gathering up his books and papers and shuffling everything into order before sliding them back into the flimsy grocery bag. Jim blinked against the throbbing in his temple.
    Claire looked up at him and blushed. “I kind of stick my elbows out when I run. I think I got you pretty good. Sorry.”
    “It’s fine.” He tried to smile. “We just keep running into each other, don’t we?”
    She laughed as she handed him the bag. He took it sheepishly, embarrassed that she had seen him with it.
    “Excuuuuse me!” someone said in a sing-song voice behind them. “Are you two lovebirds ready to come inside so that we can all learn something?”
    Claire and Jim exchanged quick glances and bit back smiles, murmuring apologies to Mr. Webb, who stood behind them with his hands on his hips. His brown mustache wriggled as he stepped aside to let them into the lab, where everyone else already stood at blocky lab benches. The only empty table was front and center, across from Mr. Webb’s desk and the whiteboard behind it. Typical , Jim thought. No one wanted to be at the front of a classroom, especially in a lab.
    “You two punctual ponies can be partners, since everyone else is paired up already,” Mr. Webb said, pushing his glasses against his nose. “Let me just get your frog.”
    “Punctual ponies?” Jim whispered to Claire as they walked over to the table.
    “Frog?” she asked him.
    “I’ve heard this guy is a little . . .” Jim looked over his shoulder. All of the other students were hovering over their tables. Most were on their smartphones, flicking their thumbs on the screens like robots. No one had touched any of the tools.
    “Crazy?”
    He smiled. “Exactly.”
    “Maria told me that he believes in Bigfoot and the Loch Ness monster and stuff.” She jerked her head to the supply closet where Mr. Webb had disappeared. “Supposedly he keeps a bunch of paranormal detectors or something back there.”
    “Maybe we’ll get to dissect a yeti.”
    Claire laughed and he felt prouder than he should, like he had just hit a home run in little league.
    Mr. Webb came back holding a tray with a shriveled little frog in the center. “You guys are lucky,” he said