boy with a gleaming butcher knife plunging it again and again into the softness of her body. Her legs were crossed and she squeezed her thighs tightly together to keep the imagined blade from making its most horrifying thrust of all.
She looked down at her notebook and realized the symbolism of the doodles she'd been making absently during the teacher's exposition of the novel: dagger-shaped arrows penetrating a Valentinelike heart. Perhaps that was why she sat up attentively when she noticed the arrows Mrs. Fredericks had drawn on the blackboard. They all extended from Rollins , and all went in different directions. Yet all ultimately arrived at fate.
"You see," Mrs. Fredericks amplified, "fate caught up with several lives here. No matter what course of action Rollins took, he was destined to meet his own fate, his own day of reckoning. The idea is that destiny is a very real, concrete thing that every person has to deal with." She emphasized this by stabbing at the word fate five times in rapid succession with the chalk until it snapped. Two or three students giggled, but Laurie drew her breath in sharply.
She mused about fate. Suppose it was my fate to die like Judith Myers. No matter which way I ran, no matter what I tried, that blade would be waiting for me. Gosh, that couldn't be my fate. I'm too young. I'm too, well, too nice. But Judith Myers was young, and probably no less nice than I. It was just her destiny, that's all. It had been determined by God a million years ago that on October 31, 1963, Judith Myers would be horribly murdered. But why would God do a thing like that to a nice girl? God wouldn't do anything evil like that, would He? We were taught in Sunday school . . .
As her mind wandered dreamily over these solemn questions, she noticed a station wagon parked on the street. Behind the wheel, gazing into her classroom, gazing it seemed directly at her, was a man. At least she thought it was a man. He was dressed as far as she could make out in dark khaki mechanics coveralls. His hair was black, but his face seemed preternaturally white, almost powdered. In fact, the more she looked at the face, with its red lips and sunken purple eyes, she wondered if he weren't wearing a mask. He'd better be, because if that's his own face, that guy is in trouble . Wow, if he's looking at me, then I'm in trouble!
Hoping he would go away, she focused on Mrs. Fredericks, who had picked up her broken chalk and was putting some finishing touches on her rendering of Man against His Fate , underlining and circling fate several more times. As she'd had enough morbid thoughts for one day or for a lifetime, Laurie concentrated on the lesson. "Edwin," Mrs. Fredericks was asking, "how does Samuels's view of fate differ from that of Costain?"
I'm not going to look at that man, Laurie swore to herself as the boy two rows away muttered an answer. I can see him out of the corner of my eye, but I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of looking at him. Well, maybe just a bit to see if he's still . . .
She turned her head ever so slightly.
He was.
"Laurie?"
The pronunciation of her name came like a thunderclap, and she jumped as if a bolt had struck her seat. "Ma'am?"
"Perhaps you can answer the question."
She closed her eyes and brought the question into the forefront of her mind. Then she struggled for a moment to produce an answer.
"Uh . . . Costain wrote that fate was somehow related only to religion." The teacher's smile of approbation prompted Laurie to go on and gave her fortitude. "Whereas, Samuels felt that fate was like a natural element, like earth, air, fire, and water."
"That's right," said Mrs. Fredericks. "Samuels definitely personified fate . . ."
He was gone.
She'd decided, even as she spoke to the class, that she was going to whip her head around when she finished and glare at him, whoever he was, until he dropped his eyes in embarrassment.
But he was gone.
He was back.
Several hours later, as school
She looked down at her notebook and realized the symbolism of the doodles she'd been making absently during the teacher's exposition of the novel: dagger-shaped arrows penetrating a Valentinelike heart. Perhaps that was why she sat up attentively when she noticed the arrows Mrs. Fredericks had drawn on the blackboard. They all extended from Rollins , and all went in different directions. Yet all ultimately arrived at fate.
"You see," Mrs. Fredericks amplified, "fate caught up with several lives here. No matter what course of action Rollins took, he was destined to meet his own fate, his own day of reckoning. The idea is that destiny is a very real, concrete thing that every person has to deal with." She emphasized this by stabbing at the word fate five times in rapid succession with the chalk until it snapped. Two or three students giggled, but Laurie drew her breath in sharply.
She mused about fate. Suppose it was my fate to die like Judith Myers. No matter which way I ran, no matter what I tried, that blade would be waiting for me. Gosh, that couldn't be my fate. I'm too young. I'm too, well, too nice. But Judith Myers was young, and probably no less nice than I. It was just her destiny, that's all. It had been determined by God a million years ago that on October 31, 1963, Judith Myers would be horribly murdered. But why would God do a thing like that to a nice girl? God wouldn't do anything evil like that, would He? We were taught in Sunday school . . .
As her mind wandered dreamily over these solemn questions, she noticed a station wagon parked on the street. Behind the wheel, gazing into her classroom, gazing it seemed directly at her, was a man. At least she thought it was a man. He was dressed as far as she could make out in dark khaki mechanics coveralls. His hair was black, but his face seemed preternaturally white, almost powdered. In fact, the more she looked at the face, with its red lips and sunken purple eyes, she wondered if he weren't wearing a mask. He'd better be, because if that's his own face, that guy is in trouble . Wow, if he's looking at me, then I'm in trouble!
Hoping he would go away, she focused on Mrs. Fredericks, who had picked up her broken chalk and was putting some finishing touches on her rendering of Man against His Fate , underlining and circling fate several more times. As she'd had enough morbid thoughts for one day or for a lifetime, Laurie concentrated on the lesson. "Edwin," Mrs. Fredericks was asking, "how does Samuels's view of fate differ from that of Costain?"
I'm not going to look at that man, Laurie swore to herself as the boy two rows away muttered an answer. I can see him out of the corner of my eye, but I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of looking at him. Well, maybe just a bit to see if he's still . . .
She turned her head ever so slightly.
He was.
"Laurie?"
The pronunciation of her name came like a thunderclap, and she jumped as if a bolt had struck her seat. "Ma'am?"
"Perhaps you can answer the question."
She closed her eyes and brought the question into the forefront of her mind. Then she struggled for a moment to produce an answer.
"Uh . . . Costain wrote that fate was somehow related only to religion." The teacher's smile of approbation prompted Laurie to go on and gave her fortitude. "Whereas, Samuels felt that fate was like a natural element, like earth, air, fire, and water."
"That's right," said Mrs. Fredericks. "Samuels definitely personified fate . . ."
He was gone.
She'd decided, even as she spoke to the class, that she was going to whip her head around when she finished and glare at him, whoever he was, until he dropped his eyes in embarrassment.
But he was gone.
He was back.
Several hours later, as school
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