sure.
“Are you close to Kris?” I asked.
She shook her head sadly. “No, not really. She’s in my Spanish class and received good marks, but she could have done much, much better. This absence will be difficult for her to overcome.”
“Is she outgoing?”
Marie Byrnes gave me a look that was part conspiratorial, part jesting and then said, “Outgoing? I suppose. Outwardly so, at least. But I don’t think many people really became too close with Kris.”
“Why not?”
“Have you ever met her, Stef?”
I shook my head.
“Well,” she said, “I think she is very much apart .”
“Apart? You mean different?”
“Yes and no. She has a different quality, a sense of overwhelming beauty, I think. But there is also a distance that she exudes. A distance in age and station.”
I thought of the glamour picture that Matt had given me and I knew what she meant.
“She is already an adult,” Marie said, “even though she is only a junior . Too adult for her classmates, even the seniors , including the boys who try to date her. And…”
“And what?”
Marie Byrnes smiled again. “She doesn’t really have a whole lot of time for us adults, either. That’s where the difference in station came in, I believe.”
“She told her dad she was going to be a star.”
Marie nodded. “In some ways, she probably thinks she already is.”
“Is she?”
Another nod. “In this very small pond, yes.”
I paused, thinking about what she’d told me. Kris was every bit of what I had thought she’d be. Perhaps even more than I thought.
Marie Byrnes watched me and drank her tea.
Finally, I asked, “What about drama ?”
She nodded. “I believe Kris is taking drama this year.”
“I thought you taught it.”
She shook her head slowly. “No, here in District 17, drama is not a class. It’s an extra-curricular activity, just like athletics. In fact, our students are even able to letter in drama .”
“But I thought you said you were the coach.”
“I am. As is Mr. LeMond. We alternate years and this is his year.”
I heard the distaste in her voice and noted that she did not use LeMond’s first name.
“You don’t like him, do you? Or the arrangement of alternating years?”
She shrugged. “I would prefer to coach every year, if that’s what you mean.”
“But it’s more than that,” I said. “I can tell. You don’t like him.”
She glanced down at her cup of tea. “Perhaps I’ve said too much. Aside from teaching in the classroom, I don’t have many conversations anymore. I suppose I’m becoming exactly what the students think all of us are. Teach and go home.” She looked up. “And I don’t know you.”
“ Sure you do ,” I told her. “ I’m Stefan Kopriva .”
Marie smile d again, but this one had less warmth. “Stefan. That’s not a very common first name. And that last name. Is it Polish?”
“Czech.”
She nodded her understanding. “Of course. These days we get every variation of common names. Daniel somehow spawns a Y , Christopher comes with a K , that sort of thing. And then there are some names which are just plain made up and not very original at all.” She shook her head. “It seems sad to just throw away tradition so glibly, doesn’t it?”
“Not a very liberal sentiment,” I observed, watching her.
Warmth touched her smile again. “ Touché ,” she whispered.
15
Bill wasn’t very happy about being banished to the hallway during my conversation with Marie Byrnes and his cold silence let me know it. I said just two words to him—“Mr. LeMond”—and he grunted and led me to the teacher’s offices.
From my time on the job, I didn’t remember District 17 security officers being such assholes. In fact, most of them had limited commissions and worked hand-in-hand with the police department. But that had been ten years or so ago. There was a different Chief of Police now. And who knows how many administrators the school district had gone
“Are you close to Kris?” I asked.
She shook her head sadly. “No, not really. She’s in my Spanish class and received good marks, but she could have done much, much better. This absence will be difficult for her to overcome.”
“Is she outgoing?”
Marie Byrnes gave me a look that was part conspiratorial, part jesting and then said, “Outgoing? I suppose. Outwardly so, at least. But I don’t think many people really became too close with Kris.”
“Why not?”
“Have you ever met her, Stef?”
I shook my head.
“Well,” she said, “I think she is very much apart .”
“Apart? You mean different?”
“Yes and no. She has a different quality, a sense of overwhelming beauty, I think. But there is also a distance that she exudes. A distance in age and station.”
I thought of the glamour picture that Matt had given me and I knew what she meant.
“She is already an adult,” Marie said, “even though she is only a junior . Too adult for her classmates, even the seniors , including the boys who try to date her. And…”
“And what?”
Marie Byrnes smiled again. “She doesn’t really have a whole lot of time for us adults, either. That’s where the difference in station came in, I believe.”
“She told her dad she was going to be a star.”
Marie nodded. “In some ways, she probably thinks she already is.”
“Is she?”
Another nod. “In this very small pond, yes.”
I paused, thinking about what she’d told me. Kris was every bit of what I had thought she’d be. Perhaps even more than I thought.
Marie Byrnes watched me and drank her tea.
Finally, I asked, “What about drama ?”
She nodded. “I believe Kris is taking drama this year.”
“I thought you taught it.”
She shook her head slowly. “No, here in District 17, drama is not a class. It’s an extra-curricular activity, just like athletics. In fact, our students are even able to letter in drama .”
“But I thought you said you were the coach.”
“I am. As is Mr. LeMond. We alternate years and this is his year.”
I heard the distaste in her voice and noted that she did not use LeMond’s first name.
“You don’t like him, do you? Or the arrangement of alternating years?”
She shrugged. “I would prefer to coach every year, if that’s what you mean.”
“But it’s more than that,” I said. “I can tell. You don’t like him.”
She glanced down at her cup of tea. “Perhaps I’ve said too much. Aside from teaching in the classroom, I don’t have many conversations anymore. I suppose I’m becoming exactly what the students think all of us are. Teach and go home.” She looked up. “And I don’t know you.”
“ Sure you do ,” I told her. “ I’m Stefan Kopriva .”
Marie smile d again, but this one had less warmth. “Stefan. That’s not a very common first name. And that last name. Is it Polish?”
“Czech.”
She nodded her understanding. “Of course. These days we get every variation of common names. Daniel somehow spawns a Y , Christopher comes with a K , that sort of thing. And then there are some names which are just plain made up and not very original at all.” She shook her head. “It seems sad to just throw away tradition so glibly, doesn’t it?”
“Not a very liberal sentiment,” I observed, watching her.
Warmth touched her smile again. “ Touché ,” she whispered.
15
Bill wasn’t very happy about being banished to the hallway during my conversation with Marie Byrnes and his cold silence let me know it. I said just two words to him—“Mr. LeMond”—and he grunted and led me to the teacher’s offices.
From my time on the job, I didn’t remember District 17 security officers being such assholes. In fact, most of them had limited commissions and worked hand-in-hand with the police department. But that had been ten years or so ago. There was a different Chief of Police now. And who knows how many administrators the school district had gone
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