midsixties—and how they were probably alive while her father was dead.
Jessica began to run and her feet slapped the floor. The faces in the photographs became a blur as she ran past, as if they had been turned into a movie; but they weren’t moving, she was moving, and she smiled at this. But then someone grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop and wrenching her shoulder so it hurt.
“Why the hell are you running? You know there’s no running.”
A man’s angry boiled-ham face rose above her. Jessica recognized him as one of the teachers, but she didn’t know his name. She pulled herself free and swung her hand at him, meaning to push him away. The man blocked her arm and gave her a push so she fell back against the wall.
“You’re not even wearing shoes. Jesus, you’re in trouble—”
“Fuck you,” said the girl. “Fuck you, fuck you!”
The man took a step toward her. His face looked swollen.
“Chip!” came a voice.
Both Jessica and the man looked up the hall and saw the new headmaster walking toward them. Behind him was Miss Sandler, her Spanish teacher. With some relief Jessica thought that, no matter what other trouble she was in, at least she wasn’t late.
“He hurt me, he hurt my arm.” Jessica held her shoulder. It didn’t occur to her not to exaggerate. It seemed perfectly reasonable to get Chip in as much trouble as she could.
Chip became increasingly angry. “She was running. You heard what she said to me. She doesn’t even have any shoes, for crying out loud.”
By now the headmaster and Miss Sandler had joined them. Farther up the hall several students were watching and a teacher leaned out her open door to look in their direction.
“I should get a fuckin’ lawyer and bust his ass,” said Jessica. “What right’s he got to touch me?” She continued rubbing her arm and wincing.
The headmaster turned to Miss Sandler. “Take care of her, will you?”
Kate put her arm lightly around Jessica’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go to class.”
“I don’t feel like fuckin’ Spanish anymore. He hurt me.”
Kate smiled. “You know you were going to be late. Now we can walk together.”
“And what about him?” said Jessica, jabbing her thumb toward Chip.
Kate began leading her away. “You’re both upset. Let Dr. Hawthorne deal with it. We have a long hour ahead on the verb to be.”
They walked slowly down the hall. Jessica glanced back with a sort of sneer, then put her arm around Kate’s waist. “What a jerk,” she said.
“You know,” said Kate, “I happened to notice you right away the first day because we both wear ankle bracelets.” She extended her foot so Jessica could see it.
Jessica looked down but didn’t pause. “Yours is half the size of mine. You got a cheap one. Mine’s worth a lot of money. My father gave it to me.”
“You’re a lucky girl,” said Kate.
“Fat lot you know,” said Jessica.
Hawthorne watched them walk down the corridor. He had to remind himself that the girl was fifteen. Dressed in her sweatshirt and jeans, she looked about twelve, slouching and scuffing her bare feet. Kate, on the other hand, was thin and erect.
Chip had turned away and was looking in the other direction. “You still need me?” The hall was now empty except for the two of them.
“Chip, these kids are used to abuse and to adults who push them around. We have to show them we’re not like that. It’s hard enough to teach them as it is. They shouldn’t have the slightest fear that we might hurt them.”
Chip turned slightly but he still wouldn’t look at Hawthorne. He wore khakis and a tan crewneck sweater that gave him a slightly military appearance. “You know the difference between a kid with a learning disability and a juvenile delinquent?”
“Is that a serious question?”
“The difference is forty thousand a year. These are spoiled rich kids who’ve been kicked out of every place else and are used to doing what they want. Nobody has
Jessica began to run and her feet slapped the floor. The faces in the photographs became a blur as she ran past, as if they had been turned into a movie; but they weren’t moving, she was moving, and she smiled at this. But then someone grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop and wrenching her shoulder so it hurt.
“Why the hell are you running? You know there’s no running.”
A man’s angry boiled-ham face rose above her. Jessica recognized him as one of the teachers, but she didn’t know his name. She pulled herself free and swung her hand at him, meaning to push him away. The man blocked her arm and gave her a push so she fell back against the wall.
“You’re not even wearing shoes. Jesus, you’re in trouble—”
“Fuck you,” said the girl. “Fuck you, fuck you!”
The man took a step toward her. His face looked swollen.
“Chip!” came a voice.
Both Jessica and the man looked up the hall and saw the new headmaster walking toward them. Behind him was Miss Sandler, her Spanish teacher. With some relief Jessica thought that, no matter what other trouble she was in, at least she wasn’t late.
“He hurt me, he hurt my arm.” Jessica held her shoulder. It didn’t occur to her not to exaggerate. It seemed perfectly reasonable to get Chip in as much trouble as she could.
Chip became increasingly angry. “She was running. You heard what she said to me. She doesn’t even have any shoes, for crying out loud.”
By now the headmaster and Miss Sandler had joined them. Farther up the hall several students were watching and a teacher leaned out her open door to look in their direction.
“I should get a fuckin’ lawyer and bust his ass,” said Jessica. “What right’s he got to touch me?” She continued rubbing her arm and wincing.
The headmaster turned to Miss Sandler. “Take care of her, will you?”
Kate put her arm lightly around Jessica’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go to class.”
“I don’t feel like fuckin’ Spanish anymore. He hurt me.”
Kate smiled. “You know you were going to be late. Now we can walk together.”
“And what about him?” said Jessica, jabbing her thumb toward Chip.
Kate began leading her away. “You’re both upset. Let Dr. Hawthorne deal with it. We have a long hour ahead on the verb to be.”
They walked slowly down the hall. Jessica glanced back with a sort of sneer, then put her arm around Kate’s waist. “What a jerk,” she said.
“You know,” said Kate, “I happened to notice you right away the first day because we both wear ankle bracelets.” She extended her foot so Jessica could see it.
Jessica looked down but didn’t pause. “Yours is half the size of mine. You got a cheap one. Mine’s worth a lot of money. My father gave it to me.”
“You’re a lucky girl,” said Kate.
“Fat lot you know,” said Jessica.
Hawthorne watched them walk down the corridor. He had to remind himself that the girl was fifteen. Dressed in her sweatshirt and jeans, she looked about twelve, slouching and scuffing her bare feet. Kate, on the other hand, was thin and erect.
Chip had turned away and was looking in the other direction. “You still need me?” The hall was now empty except for the two of them.
“Chip, these kids are used to abuse and to adults who push them around. We have to show them we’re not like that. It’s hard enough to teach them as it is. They shouldn’t have the slightest fear that we might hurt them.”
Chip turned slightly but he still wouldn’t look at Hawthorne. He wore khakis and a tan crewneck sweater that gave him a slightly military appearance. “You know the difference between a kid with a learning disability and a juvenile delinquent?”
“Is that a serious question?”
“The difference is forty thousand a year. These are spoiled rich kids who’ve been kicked out of every place else and are used to doing what they want. Nobody has
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