After a long and boring weekend, Ashton could barely focus on school. He sat in class, teetering on the very edge of sleep. No, this did not mean he hated school. Ashton just assumed he'd already known the knowledge Luke Hemmings had to offer. Instead of drinking in the contents of the material, he wrote.

Dear Teacher,
You were reading The Bible on my way in. I am surprised you have not pressured us into reading it yet. Are teachers even allowed to do that? You have bookmarked pages and everything. It's just sitting there on your desk in all its glory. Makes me wonder how many times you have read that specific work of literature. You're walking past me, so I better end this letter short. Now I bet you wish you knew my identity. Goodbye, Teacher.