Charles was in his classroom. The teachers talking about something, was it Lolita? Lord of the flies? Or was it Sir Arthur Conan Doyle? He started to think, think about something other than this. Something like how it was raining outside, or that the smell of the room smelt like air freshener and maybe that the boy in front of him had a new hair cut. Maybe he could think about why we would read something like lolita, or that the teacher reminded him of the character Humbert. "Charles...Charles?" The teacher's voice was ringing and loud. "You have a test tomorrow, keep up." He looked up and started to think again, but he spotted someone in the corner of his eye. "What?" He scoffed.