"Yes, sir," they answered together.

  "Ha! Good. Who were they?"

  The girls said nothing.

  "You don't want to tell on them?"

  They were so still and quiet. I wondered if I was still scaring them.

  "Were they at school yesterday?"

  The girls shook their heads no.

  "Well, those girls' parents are going to get a visit from their teacher if they don't straighten up."

  "Mr. Christian—"

  I sighed. "You're right. It was just a harmless trick. I don't know what got into me."

  "If it was just a trick, then you're lucky," one of the twins said. It was the first time they hadn't spoken together. We stared at each other for a moment.

  "Would you two mind helping me pick up the books and carry them inside, please?"

  They looked at each other for a moment. It was like they were communicating telepathically, which was amusing for a second, but then creepy. "Yes, we'll help."

  * * *

  Thank you, Satan.

  They glared at me with furrowed brows, which caused me to do a double-take at their knowing expressions.

  "Did you just... hear that...? Sorry, it's been a strange morning." I picked up eight of the books and gave each girl four. "Thank you, girls." I smiled.

  You both freak me out, but I think I like you.

  More children started coming in. It was peculiar and exciting that Franklin hadn't yet appeared. I always worked better without unnecessary added pressure, and as charming as I'm sure he could be, I didn't want him there.

  "It's time to begin. Take your seats," I said with a full, loud tone. Some of the students jumped at the sound of my voice, which was the point.

  I gestured to the board. "We will begin with a review from yesterday. And for my older students, I didn’t forget my promise to work with you. So let's all break into three groups. Let's get the littles over here to the right, the next group up who did addition down here to the left. I'll meet my oldest in the back."

  The children filed to their assigned areas.

  "Okay. Each group will work on the questions on the board. Are there any..." my words trailed off.

  One of the tallest and widest boys I had ever seen loomed in the school's door. He was easily six foot six. I'm sure I looked foolish gaping at him, but from the lack of sound in the room, I wasn't the only one.

  He stopped and glanced around, clearly confused by the groups sitting on the floor. Oddly, he was shy, but I also got a sense that he was used to the reaction.

  "Hey, Montana," greeted many of the younger kids.

  "Hey, Tiny," grinned Peter, but Peter's grin melted when the tall boy shot him a scowl.

  He hesitated, but then he took two choppy steps toward me like he wasn't sure how far his feet would go. "Mr. Christian. I'm Montana. I apologize for not coming in yesterday. I was doing some repairs at my house."

  I swallowed the lump of intimidation in my throat as he towered over me, "I understand. I hope you got everything finished. Your group is sitting in the back corner."

  What the hell is in the water here, I thought.

  30

  Montana nervously glanced around the room. All the students were staring, but only when he wasn't making direct eye contact with them.

  "Children, don't stare," I instructed.

  Scarlet shook her shoulders in a nervous tick. "But, mister, he's so tall," she squealed. "I'm scared he's going to step on my head."

  Montana frowned.

  "Scarlet, stop moving so much. You're fine."

  Montana made his way across the floor, but then he stumbled over a desk leg. The little children in his shadow gasped. He caught himself and continued back toward his group.

  The clumsy boy is going to fall like a tree and squash my poor class, I thought.

  The twins giggled. I looked at them, and they smiled. The smile melted off my face. I was starting to believe they could hear my thoughts. I was crazy for thinking that, but to be a teacher, you have to be a little crazy. This is the backwoods, mister.

  Once Montana was seated, the whole room relaxed.

  "As I was saying, we will begin with a review. Please answer the questions on the board."

  Carla raised a finger. "Do we need to write out the problem?"

  "Yes," I answered, "after seeing your scribbles yesterday, you all need the extra practice."

  The children began their work with no groans or moans. It was remarkable.

  "Montana, I’ll be over to help you in a moment."

  "No need, Mr. Christian. I already finished the first few questions," he said pulling his lips inward, which I took for a smile.

  "That's great. Let's see." I walked over and looked at his paper. "Very nice."

  "My grandmother, she taught me."

  "Your grandmother? Grandma Rollin?"

  "Yes, sir, that's what everyone calls her. She held 'school' at the church on Mondays. She taught the little ones the ABCs, how to count, easy math."

  "I met her yesterday. Nice lady and an amazing cook. Now I see why you are so tall." I patted him on the shoulder. "Since you are ahead in math, I'll ask you to help me by assisting your group." I saw that his age group, except for Peter, happened to be all girls. "Girls, what do you think about Montana working with you?"

  They all grinned, but I noticed a fleeting eye contact between him and Amy. I couldn't help but smile, too. I patted him on the shoulder again. "It's great to have you here."

  I circled to the different groups, giving feedback and assistance as needed. I was impressed their progress. It had only been a day, but all the students were now almost equal in addition and subtraction. I didn't care if they counted on their fingers, progress was progress.

  "Well done, children," I beamed. "Well done, indeed. Let's see what else you can do. We are now going to move on to a reading assignment. Some of you may have to move to a new seat because we are going to have to share books. If you have to move, don't worry, we will move back to our regular seats after we finish."

  I passed out the reading books. I would make notes as the children read to get a feel for the general level of each age group.

  "Okay, we will start on the right side of the room, and we will go down the rows. Everyone will read a paragraph."

  The first student, Weezer, looked up like he had just been called to give a testament before the Lord God himself. He was about eleven and was obviously well fed. His collared, orange-and-black striped pullover was easily two sizes too small for him. He was an unfortunate-looking child, and I could see someone had recently cut a large wad of something out of his hair.

  He read slowly, wheezing through the gaps in his teeth. "The... dog... had fu... fu... found a boon."

  "Bone," I corrected.

  "... bone. He wa... wa..."

  "Wanted."

  "... wonted to keep it to him sleeve."

  "Self."

  Seven minutes later he was finished with the first paragraph, and I was pressing the tips of my fingers into my temples, wishing they were guns. I cut him off before he attempted butchery of the second paragraph. "Just one paragraph, let's give someone else a shot. Instead of going down the row, let's take a volunteer. Anyone?"

  "I can keep going if you want me to," the chubby boy said.

  I ignored him. "Anyone else want to read?" Devil spawns?

  The twins sneered, and my eyes widened.

  If you can hear me, I'm just kidding, I thought at them.

  "Anyone? Older students? Yes, the oldest students will read so you can show the younger students there is nothing to worry about. Who would like to volunteer?"

  No one raised their hand.

  I looked at the back center of the class. "Peter?"

  He waved me off. "Oh, no, but thanks."

  I folded my arms. "Don't you want to set a good example for the younger students?"

  He closed his eyes and made stabbing motions toward them. "I would, but I'm blind today. I was reading Oedipus.”

  “You’ve read Oedipus?”

  With his eyes still closed, Peter turned his face towards me. “Time, which sees all things, has found you out.”

  I lowered my chin and peered over my glasses. “An-y-one?”

  Still, no volunteers. I scanned the class. Usually, the terrified kids would look away or down, but there would always be one kid who wanted to answer the question or read but was too afraid to start. Those students would make eye contact with you and wait for you to call on them, but no one did that either.

  I moved my eyes to the large newcomer. "Montana."

  He jumped. "What?"

  "Don't look so scared. It's just reading. Will you read for us?"

  "Um? I'm not sure..." he said.

  Amy raised her hand.

  "Yes, Amy? You want to read?"

  "No, but..." Her head was turned down and she forced the words out, "I would love to hear Montana read... if he wouldn't mind?"

  Montana shot out of his seat with such force I was surprised he didn't tear off the top of his desk. "I'll read."

  I looked up at him. "Thank you, Montana, and thank you, Amy."

  Montana looked over at her. They blushed at each other briefly, then she turned away. The other students ooh'd and aah'd.

  "Okay, okay, class. Let the man read." I smiled and gestured for him to begin.

  I wasn't expecting much after Weezer, but I appreciated the budding cuteness between him and Amy. However, when Montana began to read, I sat in my chair and admired his voice. Not only could he read, but his tone was strong and steady. He paused at the periods and even emphasized words; he was a natural. Once he was done, I stood and clapped. "That was great, Montana. It was very nice."

  "Thank you, Mr. Christian," Montana said and smiled shyly.

  "Did everyone enjoy that?" I smiled at the class, then raised my eyebrows at Amy.

  She dropped her lower jaw and turned a bright red.

  "I'll take that as a yes." I smiled. "Let's move on. Who would like to read next?"

  I wished I could say that the rest of the class read with as much talent as Montana, but with a few exceptions, that didn't happen. I stayed hopeful until the last kid, but the reading level was so incredibly low that I would have to go all the way back to Fun with Dick and Jane. Well, it may not have been that bad, but I couldn't sit through another class like that. I couldn't help but find it a little sad. I had my work cut out for me, but I was determined to do my best.

  Weezer raised his hand. I was hoping he didn't want to read again.

  "Mr. Christian, I'm hungry!"

  I put my hands to my forehead. "I'm sorry class, I forgot about lunch."

  Weezer's face and eyes opened wide. "Geez, what did you eat for breakfast? A bear?"

  "Actually, I didn't eat breakfast."

  Scarlet raised her hand and grunted. "I ain't eat breakfast either!"

  "Mr. Christian, what do you normally have for breakfast?" asked Carla.

  "I love biscuits, gravy, and preserves," groaned Weezer.

  I grinned. "I love all that, too, but I can't cook, so I just eat a lot of cereal. But this morning I was lucky and I had a biscuit."

  Carla raised her index finger again and looked down at her desk. "If you were married then—"

  Weezer laid over his desk. "I'm dying."

  I held in my laughter. "Okay, okay, let's go to lunch."

  31

  By the end of the day, I had to stop myself from laying across my desk. The kids were worn out as well. "Okay class, that's it for the day. I know it was tough, but we made it through, all in one piece, together."

  Scarlet wrinkled her face.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  Scarlet didn’t respond and kept her face scrunched.

  Allison raised her hand. "Mr. Christian, what about the question of the day?"

  "Oh. Right. I forgot about that." That was, of course, a lie.

  I was unsettled about how personal these questions might get. Dread built as I pawed my shirt pocket to feel the outline of the pill against my chest. I became self-conscious and wondered if it looked like a third nipple.

  I murmured, "Let's get it over with.” Then louder, asked, “What's your question?"

  The students' hands shot up like dandelions ready to be picked so I could grant wishes. A loud groan escaped me. It made some of the students giggle. At least someone was enjoying themselves. I tapped my chalk against my desk as I scanned the hands for my lucky executioner.

  Some of the students grunted while they bobbed their hands up-and-down. Those students I immediately crossed off because they were far too anxious. Any question that called for such reaction was too much for me. A few of the students held up both of their hands, and I made Xs over their faces in my mind too.

  Instead, I chose the sweet, innocent little girl, with her charming, innocent little headband and her sweet, cute, innocent smile. "All right, Carla, what is your question?"

  The other students lowered their hands. Some of them protested, then collapsed onto the top of their desks like an old Kentucky house collapsing into itself.

  I smiled at little Carla, and she asked, "Why aren't you married?"

  Peter leaned his head back and laughed.

  My smile melted away. Carla, you little..., I thought. I looked around, and the entire class was all eyeballs and ears.

  "Well," I said, "I haven't met the right person yet."

  Jason spoke, "My daddy said that you probably—"

  I cut him off, "Jason, you didn't raise your hand, and no one asked."

  One of the girls raised her hand. "Mr. Christian, my sister is single and said she wouldn't mind meeting you on a Saturday for ice cream."

  “Don’t do it Mr. Christina. Her sister is gross."

  "Peter," I warned.

  "She is not!"

  "I was just kidding," he said. The girl turned around, and he looked at me and mouthed the words, "Don't do it."

  The children continued to giggle. I could feel the heat in my flushed cheeks. Carla raised her finger again. "When I grow up will you marry me, Mr. Christian?"

  Scarlet cut in, "Hey! You can't do that—I was going to ask him."

  I grinned and drew in a breath, I was touched and surprised, but I was also ready to change the subject. "Writing," I announced. "Tonight, I want you all to write me a paragraph. Now I know some of you are having more trouble than others, but I want you to do your best.

  Allison raised her hand. "Mr. Christian? What are we supposed to write about?"

  "Well, you can write about whatever you'd like. Maybe, something you like to do or something you collect."

  "What do you collect, Mr. Christian?" Peter asked without permission.

  Waving him off. "We've already had our question of the day, Peter."

  Montana raised his hand. "I think it would help us if you gave us an example." Montana gave Peter a wink. Even the mighty were led astray by the evils of Mr. Janowski.

  Peter leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. "See? Tiny thinks you should answer, too."

  "Don't call me that," Montana warned.

  "No." I shook my index finger. "I know what you are doing."

  "Now who's stalling, Mr. Christian?" smiled Amy.

  "You too, Amy? Wow, are all of you in on this?"

  Quiet giggles and snickers playfully teased.

  "Okay. I'll play along. Fine. Um?" I drew a complete blank. "Well, this is harder than I thought. I don't collect anything. I mean when I moved here I only brought my clothes."

  "I love clothes," beamed Allison.

  I let out a half laugh. "Let's see. Clothes, a few kitchen things, but cereal is all I really eat cause I can't cook and my books. Books!"

  "Books?" whined Scarlet, holding out the vowel sound and causing me to almost throw an eraser at her.

  "All right, books. I like to read."

  "I like books," said Weezer.

  "See, Weezer likes books, too."

  "Weezer likes his mom's—"

  I pointed. "Quiet, Jason!"

  "But to be fair, I like literature books," I said.

  "What does that mean?" asked Allison.

  "It means he likes books with stories in them," answered Carla.

  "Yes, they all have stories," I replied.

  "I think I'm going to write about war!" announced Jason.

  "I don't want to write about war," cried Scarlet.

  I took a breath and raised both of my hands. "Class. Everyone, listen. You can write about anything. Your favorite hobby or something you collect. I'm still new to this town. What is something you think I should know about?" These prompts got the children chatting with each other. I was glad this excited them, but they were getting too talkative. "All right don't tell each other, tell me..."

  They all raised their hands.

  "By writing it down tonight."

  I couldn't help but smile. Sometimes kids are gullible, but they can be cute.

  32

  Once the kids were gone, I was astonished it was even the same room. Without all the little bodies and big noises, the schoolhouse was peaceful.

  I walked over to the window and wrapped my arms around myself. The mine whistle blew over the hills. I didn't know what the whistles meant for sure, but it sounded like a good reason to go home.

  I gathered up all my things—making sure I had my toothpaste and toothbrush—and walked outside, turning to face the door as I locked up.

  "Mr. Christian."

  I dropped my bag and everything inside it fell on and around the cinderblock steps. "Holy sh—! Peter? Christ!"

  He was leaning on the school like he was waiting on me, one foot resting on the wall. "You sure are jumpy, Mr. Christian. I was just standing here."

  Trying to control my anger, "No, you were hiding there with full intent to scare the shit out of me."

  "Wow, the new teacher has a potty mouth. I would've never guessed," he said with a sly grin.

  "I don't," I lied. "What do you want?"

  "I want to know what you were doing outside after dark last night."

 

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