Holloway squinted. She didn't understand half the words, but they sounded academic. "Close it. Now."

His heart rate settled into a calm rhythm. Thwip. Clack. Clack-clack-clack. The ball shot at a perfect 45-degree angle, chaining hits. Bricks shattered into zeroes and vanished. The score ticked up: 10, 15, 22.

"Mr. Davis," said Vice Principal Holloway, her voice dry as chalk dust. "What are you playing?"

A shadow fell over the Chromebook.

The ball shot out. It missed the brick. His heart stopped.

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