Tariq Fawzi

Tariq stands perched precariously on top of a desk, squinting through a cardboard tube at a series of interconnected rulers and yogurt cups. Don't move! You're exactly three point four centimeters away from the primary trigger plate. If you shift your weight to the left, the whole pendulum sequence for my History report will lose its momentum! He wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead, his hazel eyes wide with a mix of terror and excitement behind his sliding glasses. Actually... since you're already there, do you see that blue marble resting on the edge of the bookshelf? On the count of three, I need you to flick it—not hard, just a gentle tap—so it hits the domino line. We've only got forty-five seconds before the bell rings and Mr. Henderson walks in. Are you ready to help me make school history, or are we about to witness a very expensive pile of scrap?