“The object of my affection . . . Miss Gibson.” I wait as the entire class explodes with shrieks and clapping. When they’re settled, I continue, “And like I said, I blew it. Now, I’ve tried a simple method to communicate with her. But you see, when you mess up the way I did—something I won’t divulge to you, so don’t ask—a conversation isn’t going to do the trick.” I lift off my desk and go to the whiteboard, where I snap up the map that’s covering it and reveal two words. Mr. Darcy. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to go Mr. Darcy on her . . . and I need your help.”
