lots of books off her laptop. She says it was the ‘audible list’?”
“Witch isn’t a nice thing to call someone,” Fremont said.
“Unless it is accurate,” I replied. “Jinx—our friend—is a graphomancer.”
“Ah,” Fremont said. “How did you like Jinx’s suggestions, Cinnamon?”
“ Magical was sad, but I liked Kafka OK,” she said, scowling at the cube. “At first I was pissed ’cuz I thought it was a bio of the guy who wrote the bug book, but it reads OK.”
“Do not say ‘pissed’, say ‘upset,’” Fremont corrected. “What bug book?”
“ Meta-more-foe-sizz ,” Cinnamon pronounced uncertainly, avoiding Fremont’s eyes, twisting the cube in her hands. “The guy becomes this bug and everyone freaks.”
“Mm-hm,” Fremont said, clicking through the iPod. “Who is Stephen Dedalus?”
“That writer dude?” Cinnamon said sullenly.
“That could be a lot of people,” she said. “Do you remember which book he was in?”
“Two,” Cinnamon said. “The portrait one, and the useless one.”
Fremont leaned forward, intent, scowling. “Who is Leopold Bloom?”
Cinnamon brightened. “The guy that likes the kidneys,” she said, half-glaring, half-smiling at me. “Sounded yummy, but the big square won’t get me none though.”
“I didn’t say never ,” I said, surprised. “I just didn’t want, uh, kidney that night.”
“Good Lord,” Fremont said, staring at her. After a moment she seemed to notice the iPod in her hand and gave it back to Cinnamon. She seemed like she was weighing something. “Thank you, dear. Reading will clearly not be a problem. I’d still like to assess other areas, though—”
And then the glass door slid open.
“Doctor Yonas Vladimir,” a man said, smiling warmly as he limped inside. “So, you must be Cinnamon. The girl without a past.”
I smiled. I bet everyone tended to overlook the rumpled, chalkstained pants and the oversized Mr. Rogers sweater. I bet everyone ignored his bald dome and the clownish spray of brown curls beneath it. You just saw those eyes, sparkling behind his round glasses, and that smile, peering out from his trim goatee, and knew: this man was intelligent, and alive .
“I gots a past,” Cinnamon said, still fidgeting with the Rubik’s Cube, but smiling now. His grin was infectious—you couldn’t help it. “I just don’t gots an education.”
“Yonas,” Fremont said, half standing. “I’m so glad you could make it. Dakota Frost, Doctor Vladimir is head of the mathematics department.”
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Frost,” he said, extending his hand.
“Please call me Dakota,” I said, standing. He was my height, or a shade less—not as big as he looked, or perhaps that was the stoop. But what a smile he had.
“Of course,” he said. “Dakota … that’s quite an unusual first name.”
“Funny,” I said. “I was just thinking Vladimir’s an unusual last name.”
“I’m guessing my grandfather ran into a little confusion at Ellis Island,” Vladimir said, the warm smile sparkling into a deprecating grin. “It hasn’t been a common Russian surname for a thousand years. So, Katie, what did you need me for?”
Fremont smiled. “I hoped you could proctor young Miss Frost’s exam while I gave her mother a tour of the school. She’s got a reading disability, so it may need to be oral—”
That was great news, but Cinnamon wasn’t listening. It looked like she was stifling a sneeze—or a curse. Then her eyes seemed to widen, and she stood. Decisively.
“This is stupid,” she said. “A waste of time. Fuck! I can’t read for shit—”
“Cinnamon!” I said, as Fremont flinched and Vladimir just … chuckled?
“What? You cusses, in front of God, the police, everybody,” Cinnamon said.
“Cinnamon—” I warned.
“I can’t read enough to take a test,” she said, tossing the Rubik’s Cube, tail flailing about as she stalked back and forth in the room like a caged animal.
“Witch isn’t a nice thing to call someone,” Fremont said.
“Unless it is accurate,” I replied. “Jinx—our friend—is a graphomancer.”
“Ah,” Fremont said. “How did you like Jinx’s suggestions, Cinnamon?”
“ Magical was sad, but I liked Kafka OK,” she said, scowling at the cube. “At first I was pissed ’cuz I thought it was a bio of the guy who wrote the bug book, but it reads OK.”
“Do not say ‘pissed’, say ‘upset,’” Fremont corrected. “What bug book?”
“ Meta-more-foe-sizz ,” Cinnamon pronounced uncertainly, avoiding Fremont’s eyes, twisting the cube in her hands. “The guy becomes this bug and everyone freaks.”
“Mm-hm,” Fremont said, clicking through the iPod. “Who is Stephen Dedalus?”
“That writer dude?” Cinnamon said sullenly.
“That could be a lot of people,” she said. “Do you remember which book he was in?”
“Two,” Cinnamon said. “The portrait one, and the useless one.”
Fremont leaned forward, intent, scowling. “Who is Leopold Bloom?”
Cinnamon brightened. “The guy that likes the kidneys,” she said, half-glaring, half-smiling at me. “Sounded yummy, but the big square won’t get me none though.”
“I didn’t say never ,” I said, surprised. “I just didn’t want, uh, kidney that night.”
“Good Lord,” Fremont said, staring at her. After a moment she seemed to notice the iPod in her hand and gave it back to Cinnamon. She seemed like she was weighing something. “Thank you, dear. Reading will clearly not be a problem. I’d still like to assess other areas, though—”
And then the glass door slid open.
“Doctor Yonas Vladimir,” a man said, smiling warmly as he limped inside. “So, you must be Cinnamon. The girl without a past.”
I smiled. I bet everyone tended to overlook the rumpled, chalkstained pants and the oversized Mr. Rogers sweater. I bet everyone ignored his bald dome and the clownish spray of brown curls beneath it. You just saw those eyes, sparkling behind his round glasses, and that smile, peering out from his trim goatee, and knew: this man was intelligent, and alive .
“I gots a past,” Cinnamon said, still fidgeting with the Rubik’s Cube, but smiling now. His grin was infectious—you couldn’t help it. “I just don’t gots an education.”
“Yonas,” Fremont said, half standing. “I’m so glad you could make it. Dakota Frost, Doctor Vladimir is head of the mathematics department.”
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Frost,” he said, extending his hand.
“Please call me Dakota,” I said, standing. He was my height, or a shade less—not as big as he looked, or perhaps that was the stoop. But what a smile he had.
“Of course,” he said. “Dakota … that’s quite an unusual first name.”
“Funny,” I said. “I was just thinking Vladimir’s an unusual last name.”
“I’m guessing my grandfather ran into a little confusion at Ellis Island,” Vladimir said, the warm smile sparkling into a deprecating grin. “It hasn’t been a common Russian surname for a thousand years. So, Katie, what did you need me for?”
Fremont smiled. “I hoped you could proctor young Miss Frost’s exam while I gave her mother a tour of the school. She’s got a reading disability, so it may need to be oral—”
That was great news, but Cinnamon wasn’t listening. It looked like she was stifling a sneeze—or a curse. Then her eyes seemed to widen, and she stood. Decisively.
“This is stupid,” she said. “A waste of time. Fuck! I can’t read for shit—”
“Cinnamon!” I said, as Fremont flinched and Vladimir just … chuckled?
“What? You cusses, in front of God, the police, everybody,” Cinnamon said.
“Cinnamon—” I warned.
“I can’t read enough to take a test,” she said, tossing the Rubik’s Cube, tail flailing about as she stalked back and forth in the room like a caged animal.
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