"Come on, Walt, let's——"
"Be quiet!" Michaels' gaze speared out at the speaker.
"Now, get over to those lockers. Move!" He swiveled his head to examine the boy who had picked up the books.
"Put them down there by the locker," he said coldly. "Then get yourself over there with your pals." He took a pad and pencil from his pocket, then pointed.
"All right. What's your name?"
"Walt ... Walter Kelton."
"Class group?"
"Three oh one." The boy looked worried. "Hey, what you——"
"I'll tell you all about it—later." Don scribbled on the top sheet of the pad, then tore it off. He pointed again.
"What's your name?"