tenant and did not.
Now, after her first day’s work, everything was just as it had been. Careful piles, undisturbed. She took off her boots, sat at the table, and, in the dust that had gathered there—that gathered each time she went out, or came in—she drew a chart:
MONA–STUART
JOSIE–RICHARD
EMMETT–STEVEN
LUCY–ELLIE
GLEN–ELLA
JOSEPH–BETH L.
WINNIE–BERNICE
CELIA–BETH M.
OWEN–OTTO
WALTER–SUE
SARAH–AMOS
She ran her finger under each name, a thick smudge, and remembered: Mona: blond braids, can’t add yet. Stuart: missing teeth,very silent. Josie: wonderful laugh, starting to count. And so on. Owen: curly hair, tries very hard. Otto: happy, sunburnt.
That night she lay in bed, not sleeping, listening to the gaps in the sound around her where she was used to footsteps, hushed voices, breath. The fullness of the silence here was heavy. The only sounds were her own. She listened to three thousand, one hundred and twenty of her own heartbeats before falling asleep.
She slept late. She had forgotten to open the bedroom curtains for the morning sun. Most of the students were already milling around outside the school when she got there. In her rush, she hadn’t had time to unpack her chest to find clean stockings, so her bare feet stuck at the leather of her boots as she walked through the students to unlock the school’s front door. She stood to the side and let the students pass her, filing in to their desks. Her students. Except, they weren’t. Or many of them weren’t; almost half of them were new, unknown, and almost half of the students from yesterday were gone. One of the new students, in the back, already had his hand up, before she’d even reached the front of the classroom.
Yes?
Hello, Miss. I’m Russell. New from yesterday. I just thought I should introduce myself.
After that six more hands went up, and Etta learned the names of six more new students. In her head she smudged out the old dust chart, and started a new one. Charts and lists. She was fine so long as she could make a chart or a list. Names, places, faces.
Okay then, she said, welcome to some of you and welcome back to the rest. Sarah, if you wouldn’t mind closing the door? Everybody else up too. It’s good to start the day singing, I think. We’ll start today with “The Maple Leaf Forever.”
All the students stood up, but Russell, despite his leg, stood upthe fastest and straightest of them all.
7
R ussell drove and drove until his eyes wouldn’t let him anymore and he had to pull over and sleep. When he woke up, he assessed the situation. He was a fair ways across Manitoba. He would need to get gas again soon, and food for himself too. And, most important, he was going to have to refine his plan. Find a way to find Etta now that they were, hopefully, in the same region. A plan. Russell wasn’t so good with plans. Usually other people had them and he just rode along. He opened the glove box, just to check, but there were no maps. Of course not. He’d never had maps, never needed maps to know the way from his farm to Otto’s or to town. Well, east then, he figured. Until the next Shell station.
Half an hour later, starting into the outskirts of somewhere, there was a gas station with a diner. Russell pulled in.
The waitress was tiny. Ten years old, eleven, maybe. She held his plate of eggs and toast straight out in front of her as she walked it to him. No tomatoes today, she said. This normally comes with cooked tomato but none today. Sorry.
Oh, said Russell, that’s okay. There were no other customers in the diner yet; it was still very early. Thank you.
No problem, said the girl. You want something instead? Instead of the tomato? I think we have bananas in the kitchen, and carrotsand cookies . . .
Um, a carrot? said Russell.
For breakfast? said the girl.
Yes . . . well, with eggs and toast? No? Should I have the banana instead?
I’d have the cookie, myself.
So Russell had the cookie. The
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