Kirk and Scotty
“Casey Blake,” the teacher said, reading the first name on the roll.
“Here, Mr. Fields,” a girl with short orangey hair said.
McKenzie Scott’s eyes flicked over to the girl who had spoken. Her first impression was a haze of freckles and icy blue eyes, and a spark of fiery hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. McKenzie looked a little wistfully at her own brown hair.
“Mark Bueller.” Mr. Fields said. A couple of boys behind McKenzie snickered, Casey straightened in her seat, and Mr. Fields just looked annoyed. McKenzie grinned.
“Is Mark Bueller here?” Mr. Fields asked.
McKenzie noticed a shape moving outside the classroom door. Apparently Mr. Fields noticed, too, because he strolled over and opened the door.
“Get in here,” Mr. Fields said.
The boy who entered, Mark, looked crestfallen at not being able to carry out the rest of the joke, and sat near the boys who had s