September 11, 2004
Entering her classroom was like a veil lifted away from time. The present melted away and Faye was back in her mid-twenties, entering this same class for the first time. It was amazing, and a little scary. The seats were all empty, as class wasn't due to start for another fifteen minutes. The desks hadn't changed, including hers. The wood of the floor was as dark and shiny as it ever was, her windows looking out upon the same view as they had even back then. The chalkboard was nice and clean, the walls plastered with the same rules of writing that she'd had put up back when she started all those years ago.
Once again the thought entered her mind that she just wasn't ready. The last time she'd been in this room, her son was in the chair in the back row, second from the left. He had been one of her better students, and while there may have been a slight bias, it was mostly an objective observation. He earned consistently high marks, and participated in all class discussions. She had, on more than one occasion, forced herself to call on people other than Mason, just so she could be sure she wasn't showing favoritism.
She was teaching the same age group, she'd learned upon her arrival.
Turning to the board, she picked up an unused piece of chalk and wrote her name in crisp, neat letters at the top. To most of the kids, she would be a new teacher. The only ones who might actually remember her were the seniors. They had been in Mason's class that year.
Okay, you can stop now, she told herself. Thinking about Mason wasn't going to get her through the day.
She continued writing on the board, putting the instructions to a brief introductory assignment under her name. She would want to get to know her kids as soon as possible. A short essay on who they were would go far in that regard.
A bell sounded in the hall, and she could now hear footsteps entering the classroom. She continued writing as they entered and found their seats. One thing hadn't changed: The discipline level had remained intact. The boys said not a word as they sat.
When the second bell rang, she turned to face her class. Five rows of five seats each greeted her, all filled with the expectant face of a young boy. All, that is, but one.
The second from the left in the back row.
What the hell was going on? 24 kids in her class and the seat that stays empty is the one her son used to occupy? If it was a coincidence, it was a damned cruel one. If it wasn't... She didn't even want to think about what that might mean.
Faye greeted the class, shaken as she was, and began to call roll. Quick, sharp answers came back to her without much enthusiasm. She hoped that the rest of her classes had a little more spark to them.
Unfortunately, they didn't.
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