Sammy watched the data flow across his primary screen. His other three showed more information in charts, graphs and diagrams. He prefered raw data. He read it like other people read poetry, teasing out rhythm and meaning.
“Heard you got called into the principal’s office,” said Chira, suddenly behind him.
Not taking his attention from his screen, Sammy said, “Mr. Phillips just wanted to know how I was getting on.”
“How are you getting on?”
Sammy turned to Chira. They smiled warmly at him. “I’m okay,” he said genuinely.
“Good,” Chira said. “Let’s get lunch. Omar’s waiting.”
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