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ma’am,” Dakota said, relieved.
    Evelyn snatched the curtain closed and walked out of the bathroom.
    Dakota let out a sigh of relief. The girl didn’t know how much more she could take. As she soaped down her body, Dakota magically slipped into her fantasy. She couldn’t wait for her big, strong, handsome, courageous knight to come and whisk her far away from this place.

4
    XAVIER
    MONDAY, AUGUST 31
9:05 A.M.
    Â 
    X avier’s world literature teacher was a true giant standing in front of the class. Over seven feet tall, Mr. Emerson Chase looked like he had been freakishly drawn up by some mad-scientist cartoonist. The man’s legs were skinny and long, like there was no end to them, with a torso that surprisingly could’ve belonged to a dwarf. Mr. Chase was in his fifties, with striking blue eyes and the kind of sandy blond hair that male models would’ve traded their very souls for. He sure didn’t dress like anything special; a pair of khakis, a button-down shirt, and some extra-long Minnetonka moosehide moccasins—that looked like it took an entire moose to produce—completed his ensemble.
    â€œWelcome to the world of literature,” the teacher said to his students in a nasal voice. He picked up a piece of chalk off the ledge and wrote his name in cursive across the blackboard. “My name is Mr. Chase. Let me start out, good people, by addressing the rumors. Yes, I did play basketball professionally for the NBA. A badly torn ACL cut short my career. But thank God I had my degree in English to fall back on.” Mr. Chase looked out at the young faces before him. He had their complete and undivided attention. “I can tell that there are a few hotshot NBA hoop dreamers in here. Don’t mean to burst your bubble, but let my injury serve as a bleak reminder for you to take your education seriously.”
    Xavier was sitting there looking up at Mr. Chase, shaking his head. Another foot and the cat’s coconut would be scraping the ceiling. Aside from the rumors about Chase playing pro ball, Xavier had the scoop on how the former hoopster was the hardest teacher in the building to pass. Many students had crashed and burned here, with some of the smartest just hoping to come away with obtaining a plain old C letter grade. That wasn’t gonna fly with Xavier. He didn’t do Cs. It was either A or bust. Nothing was going to drop his 4.0 GPA.
    â€œThis semester we will be exploring works from classical playwrights, complete numerous essays, and for you guys, learn how to write romantic poetry, compose a news article, and my very personal favorite, write a movie review. You will be required to write a complete research paper. No excuses. This paper will count as thirty percent of your grade. I can be pretty hard, but I’m fair.”
    Xavier couldn’t believe his luck. Dexter was sitting right next to him in the same doggone English class. With the camaraderie between the two, they were both in trouble. And right on cue Dexter started cutting up.
    â€œI ain’t never heard of Chase in the NBA. What? Was he a ball boy?” he whispered to Xavier, laughing.
    â€œStop it, you idiot,” Xavier whispered back, trying not to laugh.
    Xavier simply shook his head at Dexter. The boy was a flat-out moron and Xavier wasn’t about to get caught up in his foolishness. On top of Mr. Chase’s no-nonsense policy for shenanigans, homeboy was known to send fools who thought they were comedians right to the main office to have a not-so-funny chat with Principal Skinner.
    Xavier tried to ignore Dexter, but dude wasn’t having any of it.
    â€œPsst,” Dexter persisted. “Homeboy wearing moccasins—who he think he is . . . a white Indian on the reservation back in the Old West?”
    Xavier just placed a hand over his face to conceal his laughter.
    Dexter kept it up. “Homeboy, homeboy,” he whispered, “that’s one big