Quentin was last minute studying for testing out so that he could go to college. There was nothing in the concepts that he couldn't cope with, but it was a lot of raw facts, and he couldn't just magic those out of the air, no matter how smart he was, so he was flipping through the text book, taking in the information exactly as fast as his eyes could focus on the words... which meant that he was in no way watching out for any incoming objects.
"Motherfucker!" he cursed at the basket ball, or more precisely the pain that it had caused. He reached under his bench and pulled out the offending projectile. "Yours?" he asked disapprovingly of both being hit on the head and sports in general.