"Sorry," mumbled Bill, scrambling to his feet. "I didn't see where I was go- ... uh-oh... Mrs. Webster?"
Bill looked up and saw his algebra teacher standing there in front of him. Her hands were on her hips and she wore a stern expression on her face. She was in her mid-forties, a bit heavyset, and had dark hair streaked with flecks of gray, styled into a bun on the back of her head. She wore a plain, conservative dress, long and dark blue in color, that concealed a set of very large breasts. Her shoes were sensible, navy blue flats. Bill noticed one of her hands now held the Grellstone.
"You need to watch where you're going, young man," she said.
"Yes, ma'am," muttered Bill.
"Now what's this?" she said, looking at the emerald green stone in her hand.
"It's ... uh ... mine," said Bill unconvincingly.
"I should think not!" snapped Mrs. Webster. "Something so obviously valuable clearly does not belong to a sixteen-year old boy. I'll be taking it to the school lost-and-found, and we'll also be alerting the police. It very likely is stolen."
"Yes, ma'am," sighed Bill. Easy come, easy go.
"Now shall we walk the rest of the way together?" asked Mrs. Webster. "There's no need to rush."
"Uh, I guess so," said Bill. Great, the day just somehow got worse. One moment, he had a magic wishing stone ... the next moment, it was gone and he got to walk to school with his algebra teacher! Bill knew his first instincts about today being a rotten day were going to prove correct.
"Have you prepared for your test today?" asked Mrs. Webster.
"Uh... Well... I guess that... I studied a little," lied Bill.
"That doesn't cut the mustard, mister!" scolded Mrs. Webster. "Some of your fellow students take their work seriously. Ellen Braun, for example."
Bill rolled his eyes. Ellen was the teacher's pet in his algebra class. Some brilliantly gifted "nerd girl" a year younger than the rest of the kids in class. She had a reputation for being a stuck up, obnoxious, know-it-all.
"You could be a little more like Ellen," continued Mrs. Webster. "You know, we teachers strive so hard to teach you kids -- for your own good. And you don't know how frustrating it is when our pupils fail to take their studies seriously. I don't want to be your enemy, William. I'm here to help you learn, but I cannot do that if you refuse to co-operate and do your part as well. Are you listening to me, mister? Believe it or not, I only want what's best for you."
"Yes, ma'am," grumbled Bill, rolling his eyes.
"Honestly!" sighed a frustrated Mrs. Webster. "Sometimes I wish ..."