DOM#67B
LOSTON, COLORADO
AD 1999
9:30 AM, FRIDAY
The bell rang.
The kids stood immediately. They enjoyed John’s class enough to be there on time and to actually pay attention. But not even special guest appearances by a Top 40 rock band could have kept them in their seats for one second - one nanosecond - beyond class time.
That was all right. John understood that, and was not offended. On the contrary, seeing their hurried walk as they moved out of the classroom like a well-groomed and too-fashionable plague of locusts always brought John to memories of his own childhood.
And most of those were good.
The new girl, Kaylie, stood last in the line of kids pushing to get out the door. John watched her move inch by inch to the exit, walking to his desk without taking his eyes off her. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd seen her before. And yet he knew he hadn't. Knew it with every fiber of his being.
So why did he have some small, mostly-hidden part of him screaming that this girl was important? She was the most important person he'd ever met. She was....
The answer. To everything.
The thought jerked him into a realization of what he was thinking. It was crazy, he realized, and John had never had a crazy bone in his body. Not since he was a child, at any rate. And for a few months after Annie.
Still, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake loose from feelings that had suddenly grown weird and conflicted. He wanted to call her; to talk to her. But to do that would be to admit that there was something important and strange about her. To do that would mean that there was something in his brain that mattered enough to him that he would make a decision - no matter how small - that seemed irrational, even crazy.
I'll just call her over for a second to get to know her, he thought. I'd do that with any student. Not just her, so it's okay, right?
Right?
"Ms. Devorough?" he said.
Kaylie turned, and John was surprised to see fear skate across her pale face on like cool blades on a frozen lake. She was afraid of him.
No, it could be anything, he said. She could come from an abusive home. She could come from a place where the teachers made fun of her. All the more reason to talk to her.
The decision was made; had been from the moment she walked into the class, he realized.
"Could you come here for a moment, please?"
The girl nodded, but remained where she stood. The last of the students filed out of the room, leaving John alone with her. The empty space separating them seemed to scream at him: Run, get out, get out now while there's still time!
The silence between them stretched out, feeling more interminably desolate than the longest stretch of desert. The two stared at one another, and John felt himself becoming more and more nervous, almost to the point of nausea.
"Where are you from?" he asked.
Kaylie's mouth opened and shut in a semblance of speech, but nothing emerged. She was still as silent as she had been a moment before.
John stood and approached her, moving as slowly as he could, as though the girl were a frightened dog he had met in an alley. He resisted the urge to drop to his knees and offer her some food.
"I'm not going to bite you, you know." He smiled broadly, hoping to jolly her loose from her nervousness. "Where are you from?"
She looked out the still-open door. Students passed it from time to time, shifting bags on their shoulders, talking to their friends as they hurried or dawdled to their next classes.
"I'm going to be late," she said.
"That's okay. It's your first day, and no one expects you to know where anything is. Where are you from?"
"I really don't want to get in trouble on my first day here."
"I'll write you a note. Is there a reason you don't want to tell me where you're from?"
She began edging to the door. "No, I just don't want to be late."
"Ms. Devorough, please just answer my question and you can go."
"Sorry, I don't want to be late," she said again, and almost ran out the door. John watched her go, and wondered which was more strange: her actions or the icy fear that clutched him.