Select (Select #1)(42)

“All right,” the sub intoned in a nasal voice, “who’s going to read their short story out loud?” Then to my complete horror, the teacher pointed his finger at the class as in “Who’s going to be the lucky contestant?” But I knew he was about to pick me.

“Miss Jaynes. You come up here and read, please.”

I realized the substitute had no idea who I was. If he had, he would have had one of two reactions to me—deference or polite avoidance. Now I saw that it had been a gross mistake to stare out the window during his lecture.

I sat for a moment longer than I should have trying to figure out if there was a way to defy him. I stood and walked slowly to the podium.

“No hiding behind the podium. Come out in front of the class for the reading,” the sub said.

What an asshole. He just wants to check her out.

John didn’t like that everyone was looking at me or that my outfit was more revealing than usual. I’d dressed haphazardly, never thinking I’d be standing up in front of everyone.

She’s panicking.

John was worried for me, knowing I didn’t like drawing extra attention to myself.

I stared down at the words I had written and paused, not believing I was really going to have to do this. What I’d written was too good. I looked down and pretended to read. In reality I recited a Hemingway short story from memory.

I didn’t know why I did it. We’d read the story earlier that week in class with Mrs. Bartell, and maybe I wanted to exhibit how clueless the substitute was. It was a way to communicate with John. To have him laugh with me.

I knew exactly when the story began to sound familiar to John.

But he wasn’t impressed. He couldn’t believe I was taking a risk like this—throwing an assignment in the teacher’s face, letting other students know I had memorized an entire short story verbatim. I felt my rash begin to creep up my wrists.

When I finished, it was quiet, everyone spellbound.

The bell rang seemingly out of nowhere. The class sat there for a moment before remembering themselves and packing up.

I went to gather my things. As I passed him, the sub touched the bare skin on my arm, and it took everything I had not to jerk away. “Well done, Ms. Jaynes,” he said in a smug tone of voice. He had no idea it wasn’t my story.

Fucking pervert.

John was watching. I nodded to the sub and walked over to my desk, not wanting to look at John. Now I felt foolish.

John ignored Reese, the redhead, who seemed to be waiting for him near the front of the classroom by our aisle. She got the hint when he waited while I put all my things together. I felt the substitute’s eyes on us as we left the classroom.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he said.

“I don’t know. Don’t you have to get to class?” I didn’t want to do this.

“It doesn’t matter. It’ll be quick.” He gestured for me to follow him through the rush of students making their way to class. To my surprise he stopped in front of an elevator and stabbed at the button. When it arrived it was empty. John entered, then turned to give me a challenging look.

I stepped in. The doors closed behind us and we stood on opposite sides, locking eyes. We didn’t say a word. Every second ticked slowly as the elevator whirred endlessly to the second floor.

The elevator settled and opened. “This way.” John led me to a door that let out onto a deck. The bell rang, and all at once a hush fell over the school. We were the only two people outside.

I leaned indolently against the building and raised an eyebrow, trying to gain the upper hand from the start.

“You’ve got to be more careful.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The short story. The whole class recognized it. What, do you have a photographic memory?” Then he laughed derisively. “Of course you do.”

“Sure, I have a photographic memory.” I shrugged.

“I’m not an idiot, even if you want to pretend I am. I can see it all, Julia. It was right in front of my face at Barton Springs. I see all the things that make you…you. I just wanted to let you know you’re getting bad at hiding it. Who knows? You may not care.”

“Seriously, John, what are you talking about?” My tone was sarcastic: You’re crazy, I’m not.

“Everyone in there was trying to figure out what seemed off. You don’t blink often enough, your hair is different—like it got longer overnight—and you suddenly have freckles. A lot of freckles. Your skin is…your skin is perfect. You’re perfect. But you’re going to be on everyone’s radar if you keep doing what you just did. It’s the opposite of blending in.”

I couldn’t believe he was trying to help me. I had no idea what to say.

He shrugged and held up his hands in an I tried gesture. “Maybe you don’t care. Maybe you want everyone to know that every rumor about your family is true. I just wanted to warn you.” He started to walk away.

“John!” He turned back. “I’m just like you,” I said softly, but it was a weak effort.

“No, you’re not. I’ve seen it with my own eyes, and I’m sick of you pretending I don’t know. I just don’t want you to get caught if you don’t want to be. It would make my staying quiet about Barton Springs and being dragged to jail all for nothing.” He turned away, done.