When the message light blinked to life on Milo Flores’ palm computer, and he saw the sender’s address on the screen, he swallowed hard.
The incoming zeemail was from his math teacher, Mr. Shaven, and Milo knew what that meant. The grades from the final exam had been posted.
Milo picked up the palmputer and put it down again, afraid to look at the body of the message. So much depended on the grade he’d gotten that he wasn’t sure if he could ever bear to see it.
He had to pass math to graduate high school, and math had been his worst subject...especially this year. He had barely maintained a “D” average in math this year--partly because Mr. Shaven had been tough on him, mostly because Milo’s attention had been focused on girls and sports and partying.
An “F” on the final would mean he
