“What are you talking about?”
“We have to see this man. We have to confront him.”
“They’re not going to let us see him, Caroline. They’re not going to let us talk to him. They’re not going to let us anywhere near him.”
“I don’t care. I’m going down there.”
“You’re not going anywhere. This is exactly why I didn’t tell you earlier. You’re panicking, being irrational.”
“So what are you suggesting? That we just sit here and do nothing?”
“There’s nothing we can do. Detective Ramos promised to keep us informed.”
“How reassuring.” Caroline buried her face in the palms of her hands.
“Come to bed,” Hunter urged after several minutes had passed.
Caroline shook her head, refusing to look at him. She was trying not to resent his composure, his skill at rationalizing and compartmentalizing, his resolve to stay calm and focused, to not let his emotions get the better of his common sense. How she envied his ability to throw himself into his work, to take refuge in a string of meaningless affairs. How she hated him for it.
Hunter waited another minute before reaching over and switching off the lamp. Caroline felt his arm as it brushed against her shoulder, but didn’t open her eyes until she was certain he’d left, taking the sweet, soapy scent of his most recent betrayal with him.
“Okay. This morning I’d like to talk about some of the ways we can use mathematics in our daily lives,” Caroline said, trying to generate a modicum of enthusiasm in her class of twenty-three tenth-grade students. The students, an almost equal mix of boys and girls, stared back at her, one face blanker than the next. “Now, I know that some of you don’t think you’ll have any use for algebra, or trigonometry, or geometry, or any kind of math at all, for that matter,” she continued, thinking of Michelle’s frequent pronouncements, “but, in fact, we use some form of math to solve problems every day. And if we don’t, we should.” She looked up and down the five rows of desks, hoping to catch at least one nod of confirmation, one glimmer of interest in a pair of glazed eyes, but finding none. “Let’s take astronomy. An astronomer needs to apply the concepts of algebra and trigonometry in order to determine the distance from one planet to another, or to measure the distance between stars. Or a surveyor,” she continued, realizing there probably weren’t a lot of potential astronomers in the room. “A surveyor needs to determine precise locations and measurement of points, elevations, and areas for such things as mapmaking and land division.” Another unlikely prospect. “Or on a simpler level, say we want to determine the height of a tall building or tree. We can do that by knowing the distance from us to the base of the building or tree. Everyone with me so far? Anyone?”
No one raised a hand.
“Okay, let’s tackle a specific problem.”
“Let’s not,” a male voice said from the back of the room. Joey Prescott, class cutup. Medium height, shaggy-haired, more muscles than brains.
“Okay, Joey,” Caroline said, “suppose your mother wants to buy broadloom for a room that’s twelve feet long and ten feet wide.”
“What’s broadloom?” Joey asked.
Caroline smiled. “Wall-to-wall carpeting.”
“My mother doesn’t like wall-to-wall carpeting. She likes hardwood.”
There were a few chuckles from the front of the class and one outright guffaw from the back. Caroline knew the laugh well: Zack Appleby, court jester to Joey’s clown. “Zack,” she said, staring the freckle-faced boy down, “how does your mother feel about broadloom?”
Zack stared back at her as if he’d never seen her before in his life. “Huh?”
“Come on, people. Did you all eat too much turkey last week?”
A hand shot up from the third seat of the second row.
Thank God, Caroline thought. At least someone was making an effort. “Fiona?”
“What was the question?” Fiona asked.
Caroline bit down on her bottom lip. “Your mother wants to buy broadloom for a room that’s twenty feet long and ten feet wide.”
“Her mother, too?” Joey shouted out. “Hope they have enough in stock.”
More laughter. Even Caroline found herself chuckling. “The broadloom costs fourteen dollars and ninety-five cents a square foot,” she continued, shifting her gaze from Fiona to the girl beside her, who was chomping aggressively on a strand of long blond hair. “Daphne, can you tell us how to determine the total cost of the carpet?”
Daphne shrugged and continued chomping.