Tattoo Trouble

Calculus was a joke. I had no idea what the teacher was talking about. He might as well have been speaking borkanese. I was beyond glad when class was over, even when the teacher had me stay after class so he could give me a syllabus and a book.

The layout of the school was beginning to make more sense and I found my history class on my own. If there was a dash and a number after the room number that was the floor the class was on. So history was 127-4. That meant it was on the fourth floor.

The bell rang as soon as I entered the room. Mr. Henry glanced up and did a double take. He stood, worry furrowing his brows. It was my grandpa. Professor Pops. But he told me he taught at Harvard. What was he doing here?

I waved slightly before sliding into the first seat I found.

"Jack. Jack. Over here."