Page 10 of Defined and Defiled (Ghostlight Falls)
Twist (n.)
Twist: an unexpected turn or development
The class is no less excited to see Richard today than they were yesterday. It's all I can do to quiet them down for their vocabulary test. I have to remind them several times to keep their eyes on their papers and not the extremely helpful dictionary floating around the room.
I'm not sure who is more eager for Cami to wheel her cart into the room, me or the kids, by the time she joins the class at ten.
Cami starts when I grab hold of her arm. It's a light touch, but I've never purposely initiated any contact with any of my coworkers.
She looks down at where my arm grasps her sleeve before looking back at me.
“Yes, Ms. Sumner?”
I release her arm and glance back at my classroom before bending my head close to her.
“Would it be alright if you drew something for me? Inside this book, I have?”
I gesture to Richard, who is shaking his head at something Tanner has said.
Cami's smile is wide and brilliant, taking up her whole face.
“I'd be glad to. I have to leave early today for an appointment, but maybe we can grab drinks after work?”
When I first joined the school, Cami would ask me to hang out after work every day for a month, but I always declined. I'm tempted to decline again when I hear Richard's deep laugh from across the room. I can vaguely hear Tanner say something about Dinosaurs and rap music, but I can not determine what the connection could be. My eyes find Richard, and he's already looking back at me with a grin settled onto his lips.
I turn back to Cami and her megawatt smile.
“I'd love to.”
Cami claps her hands twice and faces the students.
“Ribbit.”
They echo the call and response back at her.
“You all be good for Ms. Hayes, I will return shortly.”
I address the students and sling my laptop bag over my shoulder
I nod towards the door and Richard floats out to join me.
Cami is usually with the students for an hour so we have about that long to look for clues in the yearbook Marge found for us. We move quickly to my car and hop in.
Richard floats by my ear as I crack open the yearbook.
The school may not have changed much since 17, but the student's fashion has. Pages and pages of gelled tips and thin eyebrows greet me until I reach the teacher profiles. Staring at me from the top of the page is Mr. Richard Diction, twelfth-grade Trigonometry.
It's the same smile I've come to know, his eyes the same deep brown and his hightop barely fits into the photograph. He really was tall and his broad square chest filled out a multicolored knitted sweater. I look back at Richard, but his eyes stay glued to the book. Under his name is the list of clubs he helped run, The Homework Helpers is listed as well as AV club with page numbers for both.
I flip over to the Homework Helper page numbers. A giant collage takes over two pages with pictures of various meetings, but only one features Richard as he bends over a desk to help a student. His backside is present , and I send a curse to whoever took that sight away from us.
“Anything?”
I ask, but Richard just frowns.
We move on to the AV club page. This one feature is smaller. There's only two photographs as the club shares the page with the Academic Decathlon kids. The student's names are on the side, but I already recognize two of the faces staring back at me. Standing next to Richard in thin wiry frames is Principal Bailey and beside him is Mike Fleming.
“How is that possible?”
I stare at the younger versions of my boss and colleague. It doesn’t make sense Mike should be the same age as I am but it’s unmistakably him.
Richard is quiet and when I look back at him his eyes appear unfocused.
“Richard?”
I will try.
“I knew I recognized his voice. I just couldn't recall where.”
“Whose voice?”
Richard blinks a few times before frowning.
“Mike. When he spoke to you this morning, it sounded familiar but it's not until we saw his face that I remembered where I heard it from.”
“He was your student?”
“Yes. He is also the one who cursed me.”
I don't have time to process this as my alarm on my phone blares. I have to get back to my classroom, but how can I bring Richard back when with what we know now? I look in the back of my car, an idea forming.
“How long do you think you can stay quiet?”