“Yes, Mr. Ching? You have something to share with the class?” Mr. Mac was very patient with Stevie, mostly because he knew Stevie was going to solve the problem.

“The answer faw point seven six.”

Everyone knew he was right because Mr. Mac would start laughing. Which wasn’t very funny to kids like Donald Duckworth, who made even me look like Einstein.

“That’s crap!” Dumb Donald would yell out every time. “How does he know the answer? He’s been talking in the back of class the whole time.”

Bones, on the other hand, would be so impressed with Stevie’s genius that he would get up from his seat and celebrate. The first time Bones got up to congratulate Stevie he raised his big, gangly arm for a high five.

Stevie thought he was waving hello, so he got up, waved back, and yelled, “Hello, Hank!” The class went bananas laughing.

Most days after summer school we waited around for Estelle to show up. We were usually the second-to-last ones to be picked up, but only because Stevie’s mom tended to get lost trying to find the school.

Instead of sitting around and waiting for our ride, Stevie, Bones, and I usually played a game called “Rock.” None of us loved that game more than Stevie. And he didn’t even play.

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