"Hear we'll have Crabby Abby for English," said Jimmy. He and his best friend Craig were sitting on the bank of the river that ran behind the "dead" part of town, where the bad economy had wiped out the businesses and the people like plague. They were fishing away the last days of summer vacation.

"Ahh, she's not so bad," said Craig. He was a serious-minded type of kid who tried hard to brush away tarnish and moss to find the bright shiny side of anything and anybody.

"I guess. Better than Highpockets Harlow anyway." Jimmy felt a slight tug on his line, saw the bobber jerk, jerk again. He pulled up quick to set the hook.