The closer we got to Mrs. Apostolu’s room, the heavier my feet felt. It was like I was pulling a fifty-pound weight behind me. As we approached the door, I could hear the clamber of noise as the students settled into their seats. Mrs. Walsh pulled open the door and waved us in.

As soon as the door shut, the class went dead silent. 

If I’d had any doubts that we were actually stuck in the ’70s, stepping into this classroom nixed them entirely. Everyone’s hair was long and moppy. Their clothes were colorful but ugly, and the students were staring at us like we were from another planet, even though I was in a normal pair of shorts and Bones was wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and his classic, black, size fourteen Chucky T’s. 

“Boys and girls,” Mrs. Walsh said in her crisp, principaly voice. “This is CJ and Hank and they are new students so please treat them with respect and kindness.” 

Mrs. Apostolu—who, by the way, didn’t look anything like Mrs. Apostolu—smiled and waved. “Welcome, boys. We’re glad to have you. Your seats are those two right there in the middle of the class.” 

She didn’t even sound like Mrs. Apostolu. She sounded so . . . friendly. My guard was definitely up. Something weird was going on. 

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