Misha looked at the soccer ball in his bag, then back at the green cover. "Is there a middle ground?"
He was still working on his tenses, but at least he wasn't a ghost in his own homework.
Misha froze. "I just want to go outside and play football. I’ve been stuck in the Present Perfect Continuous since Tuesday."
The Guardian sighed, leaning against a particularly thick "Conditionals Type III" sentence. "The GDZ is a powerful potion, Misha. It gives you the '5' today, but leaves you silent in London tomorrow. If you copy the answers, you will never know the joy of correctly placing whom in a relative clause!"
Suddenly, the book began to glow. A tiny, ink-smudged figure crawled out from between the pages of the "Sequence of Tenses" chapter. It was the , wearing a hat shaped like an irregular verb.
"Stop!" the Guardian squeaked. "You seek the GDZ (Key), don't you? The forbidden scrolls of pre-written answers!"
