A hand appeared beneath Lanes face. Kramers hand. It turned the page for her, pointed to a middle stanza, and went away.
Thanks, she muttered.
Everyone else in the classroom seemed to find this quite amusing.
Lane kept her head down.
Would you care to favor us with a rendition? Kramer asked.
She nodded against her sheltering hand and began to read aloud.
She was halfway through the stanza when the bell rang.
Thatll be fine, Kramer said. Raising his voice, he announced, Dont forget your spelling sentences for tomorrow. In ink, please. Class dismissed.
Lane shut her book and stared at it. Kids walked past her. Someone rubbed the top of her head. She looked up. Benson grinned down at her. You gotta pay attention, babe.
She sneered at him.
He sauntered out with Jessica, a hand on her rump.
Soon the room was empty except for Lane and Kramer.
Lane forced her head up. Kramer stood behind his table, busy stuffing books and folders into his briefcase. He seemed unaware of her presence.
I shouldve left with the rest of them, she thought. God, how did I get into this?
Dad and his yearbook. Thanks a bunch, Dad.
She wondered if she should say something.
Do you have a red pen? Kramer asked, and finally looked at her.
The tension spilled out of her. Uh... no. I dont think so.
No problem. Let me get you one. He stepped over to his desk and opened the top drawer. He found a pen, shut the drawer, and searched through a stack of folders on the corner of his desk. Here we go. Ill give you first period. How does that sound?
Fine.
He came toward her. If you get done with these and want some more, Ive got plenty. Dont want to keep you all afternoon, though.
Lane nodded.
I dont believe this, she thought. Hes acting as if nothing happened.
What do you want, a lecture?
She cleared her desk. Kramer set the folder and pen in front of her. Its five points a word, he said. But I guess you know that.
Yeah.
Any questions, just ask.
All right.
He turned away.
Mr. Kramer?
He turned to her again, a pleasant smile spreading across his face.
Im sorry about losing my place.
Daydreaming?
I guess so.
Well, no harm in that. I hope you werent too embarrassed.
I was pretty embarrassed.
Youre the best student in the class, Lane. Dont let one little lapse of attention throw you. Happens to everyone.
Okay. Thanks.
Of course, I had to give you an F for the day.
Oh.
Laughing softly, he squeezed Lanes shoulder. That was supposed to be a joke.
Oh.
His hand stayed there. Lane felt as if its warmth were spreading down through her. He rubbed her shoulder gently, then let go.
I really appreciate your staying after to help like this. It takes some of the pressure off.
Glad to help. She could still feel where his hand had been.
Teaching aint all its cracked up to be. Sometimes, I feel like Im being consumed by paperwork. All I seem to have time for is grading papers, preparing lessons. He shook his head. A real drag.
If youd like me to, Ill stay more often and help you out.
Her heart thudded. She couldnt believe shed said that.
Hell think Ive got the hots for him.
Kramers head tilted slightly to one side. He pressed his lips together and raised his eyebrows. Well, I sure appreciate the offer. You must have better things to do with your time, though.
I wouldnt mind. Really.
Its up to you. Id certainly be glad to have the help. Smiling, he knuckled the folder on her desk. Now, get cracking. Talks cheap, and times a-wasting.
Lane laughed. Youre a real slave driver.
Start correcting those papers, or Ill give you a taste of the lash.
Yes sir.
He turned and headed for his desk. Lanes eyes stayed on him.
His sport shirt tapered down from his broad shoulders to his slim waist. The tail, just a bit untucked, puffed out over his belt. His wallet made a bulge over his left buttock. There seemed to be nothing in his right rear pocket. That side of his slacks was smooth against his rump, and Lane watched the way it moved as he walked.
Twenty-one
Jean, peeling potatoes at the sink, looked around at Larry as he entered the kitchen. Quitting a little early, arent you? she asked.
He glanced at the clock. Almost four. He usually worked until four-thirty.
I finished the damn corrections, he said. He took a beer from the refrigerator. Too late to get started on anything else. He twisted the cap off the bottle. Wheres Lane?
Not home yet.
I know that. Did she have some kind of plans for after school?
Not that she mentioned. Maybe she stopped over at Bettys, or something.
Yeah. He poured the beer into a stein, sucked off the head of white froth, and emptied the bottle. Whatre you going to do with the potatoes?
French fries.
All right! He dropped the bottle into the trash. It landed with a thunk.
He carried his beer into the living room, sank into his easy chair and started thumbing through the new issue of Mystery Scenethat had arrived in the days mail. Jean had probably already looked it over. She wouldve told him if shed found any mention of him. So he went straight to Brian Garfields Letter from Hollywood.
He tried to read it.
But the day was mild. The air conditioner was off, the windows open. Each time Larry heard a car on the street, his eyes shifted to the window.
Where is she?
Patience, he told himself.
They might not even havethe 68 yearbook.
Theyve got to.
He wished hed asked Lane to phone him from school. Then he wouldnt have spent the whole day worrying. But he didnt want her to think it was any big deal.
Try for the sixty-eight, hed told her. Thats the year Ill be working on. If they dont have it, though, sixty-seven or sixty-six will be okay. Even sixty-five. In fact, if you could get the annuals for each of those years...
Youve got to be joking, Lane had said. Ill be lucky if Swanson lets me check out anyof them, much less four.
Just go for sixty-eight, then, okay?
He heard another approaching car. He knew the Mustangs sound a low grumble and this wasnt it. He looked out the window anyway. A station wagon swept by.
He drank some beer, finished the Garfield piece, and looked for Warren Murphys Curmudgeons Corner. This issue didnt seem to have one.
He muttered, Shit.
Probably a story behind its absence. Have to ask Ed next time we talk.
At least de Lints horror reviews werent missing. Larry scanned the columns. Half the books were by writers he couldnt stand. But he spotted reviews of new books by Daniel Ransom, Joe Lansdale, and Chet Williamson. Hed already read the three books under discussion. Good. That way, the reviews couldnt spoil anything for him.
He took a drink of beer.
Started to read.
Heard the Mustang.
About time!
The shiny red car appeared on the street, slowed down, swung into the driveway and vanished from sight. The engine went silent. A door thumped shut. When he heard Lanes boots scraping on the walkway, he tossed the magazine aside and hurried to the door.
Hi ho, he said, opening the door. Lane had her keys in one hand. Her other hand was empty. How was your day?
Terrific.
Mustve been, Larry thought. She looked even more chipper than usual.
He stepped out of her way and shut the door. Lane slung her book bag off her shoulders. Trying to keep his voice calm, Larry said, So, did you have any luck with the yearbook?