accident at the mill, hunting everywhere for Anna Mae, the hospital, the brawl at Mickey’s, finding Anna Mae sitting in the church. Anna Mae. Anna Mae!
When he walked into the house, Sarah was sleeping in front of the new Dupont television. He walked upstairs. He stood in the doorway staring at Anna Mae who was sleeping with her spelling book open and her bedside lamp still lit. Anna Mae opened her eyes and saw him standing in the doorway.
* * *
The dream was always the same. She sat on a hard, black, shiny surface near a gigantic hole on top of a mountain. The pounding was deafening. Like a giant’s footsteps somewhere behind her. It shook the ground. And there was fire. Fire above. Fire below. Out there everywhere—with the pounding. She covered her face with her arms. And although she couldn’t see the flames, she knew they were receding. The pounding too, diminished. She was alone and terrified. Something that looked like a huge black umbrella without spokes, descended down from above. Down. Over her. Covering her. Smothering her. She pushed at the sides of the shiny material. It gave way to the pressure of her small hands. But it didn’t break. It just molded itself around her hands. And it was tightening, like a ghostly grip. She screamed.
Suddenly, she was floating on her back in the warm brown river. The current was slow, sluggish. The low water level revealed a five-foot mud bank. On top of the bank, vague shadow figures watched her. Anna Mae floated quietly, comfortably, at peace—in the warm brown water.
* * *
Four days later.
Anna Mae stood at the back of the schoolyard where a line of fall jackets were hanging haphazardly over the fence. Her classmates slowly came into focus as they ran around in the October sunlight. It had happened again. The last thing she remembered was Friday night, lying in bed studying her spelling.
Her friend, Debbie, out of breath and laughing, called to her. “Come on! Don’t just stand there! Get in line!”
The slant of the sunlight told her school was just starting. She had learned to observe little details that went unnoticed by others. She had to be quick to hide her secret. It was scary. However, whatever caused her to black out was over now. It was Monday. Had she studied on the weekend? Of course she had. She always did her homework.
Debbie ran over to her and took her hand. “Come on!”
Shaking Debbie’s hand away, Anna Mae joined the other students forming single lines to the school doors. She was just getting her bearings when Angelo Tamero approached. He was a head taller, with black curly hair, dimples, and dark brown eyes that sparkled when he looked at Anna Mae.
“Aren’t you in the wrong line?” Debbie asked Angelo sarcastically.
“Naaaa!”
“Yes you are!”
A boy called from the fifth grade line. “Hey! Angelo! Get over here.” Angelo grinned, yanked Anna Mae’s ponytail, then laughing, ran to join his classmates. The bell rang.
Ten minutes later, Mrs. Wilson, a short, plump lady with gray braids rolled into a bun, called her third grade class to order. She then began passing out test papers. Anna Mae waited. Spelling was one of her best subjects. Surely, she had studied. Surely, she would remember her words. A few seconds later, the teacher handed her a test paper that was already completed. There were lots of mistakes and the paper was marked up with red pencil. There was a big ‘D’ in the top left corner.
Her name was at the top right corner. It was in her own handwriting. When had she taken this test? It must be a mistake. She looked at the day and date on the blackboard. Wednesday, October 5th. Wednesday? No. It can’t be. Today is Monday. Is it Monday? She looked at the date under her name. Monday, October 3rd. She didn’t remember taking the test. The blackboard said it was Wednesday.
Her chest hurt as she fought to hold back the tears. They streamed down her face anyway.
When he walked into the house, Sarah was sleeping in front of the new Dupont television. He walked upstairs. He stood in the doorway staring at Anna Mae who was sleeping with her spelling book open and her bedside lamp still lit. Anna Mae opened her eyes and saw him standing in the doorway.
* * *
The dream was always the same. She sat on a hard, black, shiny surface near a gigantic hole on top of a mountain. The pounding was deafening. Like a giant’s footsteps somewhere behind her. It shook the ground. And there was fire. Fire above. Fire below. Out there everywhere—with the pounding. She covered her face with her arms. And although she couldn’t see the flames, she knew they were receding. The pounding too, diminished. She was alone and terrified. Something that looked like a huge black umbrella without spokes, descended down from above. Down. Over her. Covering her. Smothering her. She pushed at the sides of the shiny material. It gave way to the pressure of her small hands. But it didn’t break. It just molded itself around her hands. And it was tightening, like a ghostly grip. She screamed.
Suddenly, she was floating on her back in the warm brown river. The current was slow, sluggish. The low water level revealed a five-foot mud bank. On top of the bank, vague shadow figures watched her. Anna Mae floated quietly, comfortably, at peace—in the warm brown water.
* * *
Four days later.
Anna Mae stood at the back of the schoolyard where a line of fall jackets were hanging haphazardly over the fence. Her classmates slowly came into focus as they ran around in the October sunlight. It had happened again. The last thing she remembered was Friday night, lying in bed studying her spelling.
Her friend, Debbie, out of breath and laughing, called to her. “Come on! Don’t just stand there! Get in line!”
The slant of the sunlight told her school was just starting. She had learned to observe little details that went unnoticed by others. She had to be quick to hide her secret. It was scary. However, whatever caused her to black out was over now. It was Monday. Had she studied on the weekend? Of course she had. She always did her homework.
Debbie ran over to her and took her hand. “Come on!”
Shaking Debbie’s hand away, Anna Mae joined the other students forming single lines to the school doors. She was just getting her bearings when Angelo Tamero approached. He was a head taller, with black curly hair, dimples, and dark brown eyes that sparkled when he looked at Anna Mae.
“Aren’t you in the wrong line?” Debbie asked Angelo sarcastically.
“Naaaa!”
“Yes you are!”
A boy called from the fifth grade line. “Hey! Angelo! Get over here.” Angelo grinned, yanked Anna Mae’s ponytail, then laughing, ran to join his classmates. The bell rang.
Ten minutes later, Mrs. Wilson, a short, plump lady with gray braids rolled into a bun, called her third grade class to order. She then began passing out test papers. Anna Mae waited. Spelling was one of her best subjects. Surely, she had studied. Surely, she would remember her words. A few seconds later, the teacher handed her a test paper that was already completed. There were lots of mistakes and the paper was marked up with red pencil. There was a big ‘D’ in the top left corner.
Her name was at the top right corner. It was in her own handwriting. When had she taken this test? It must be a mistake. She looked at the day and date on the blackboard. Wednesday, October 5th. Wednesday? No. It can’t be. Today is Monday. Is it Monday? She looked at the date under her name. Monday, October 3rd. She didn’t remember taking the test. The blackboard said it was Wednesday.
Her chest hurt as she fought to hold back the tears. They streamed down her face anyway.
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