Chapter 4: Seeing Red

  “Mr. North!”

  Lester jumped and looked up to see the looming figure of Mrs. Q standing in front of his desk.

  “Y-Yes, Mrs. Q?”

  “For the third time.  Would you please take a test and pass the rest back.”

  Lester stared at the neat stack of stapled papers sitting in front of him.  He’d been so busy frantically trying to remember math formulas from a year ago that he’d failed to notice the exam had started.

  “Snap to attention, Mr. North,” Mrs. Q said, pausing at his name as though it left a bitter taste in her mouth.  “Let us hope, for your sake, that your focus is better on today’s assessment than it has been thus far this morning.”

  Annie Quince was a slim woman with a narrow bird-like face and shockingly bright hair, of a hue not found in nature.  For as long as anyone could remember, she’d been instructing seventh graders in pre-algebra at Giles Hollow Elementary.  A rumor among the student body claimed she’d actually been a petulant child laborer who simply transitioned to teaching when the organ factory closed down.  Others believed she predated the town itself, and they’d built the building around her.  While none knew her true age, they all agreed on one thing.  If Mrs. Q had once enjoyed her job, it was plain she’d long ago lost her love of the work.

  Lester took the top exam and passed the rest behind him.  His mouth was dry, and his brain moved as if in a fog.  At the thought of fog, the image of the giggling woman winking at him from behind a tree suddenly popped into his head, sending a shiver up his spine.  Who was she?  She had acted as if she’d known him.  Was it possible she was a friend of his parents?  He doubted it.  They would never be seen with anyone that unique, as his mother politely put it when she actually meant weird or strange.  The old woman wasn’t on his paper route.  He was sure of that.  Yet there was an odd familiarity lurking somewhere in Lester’s memory that he couldn’t quite reach.

  “Alright, students,” Mrs. Q said with the curtness of a drill sergeant.  “Let’s see if you remember anything you learned last year or if we shall be forced to start from scratch.  Your forty-five minutes begins — now.”

  She pushed a button on a large square timing clock that sat on the edge of her desk, and its red second hand began loudly ticking its way around.

  Lester, his heart pounding, closed his eyes and breathed deep.  He could do this.  The key was staying calm and taking it one step at a time.

  Exhaling slowly, he examined the first problem.  Was this a joke?  At a glance, the test had appeared to be a standard exam.  But now, looking more closely, he saw problems written in some sort of hieroglyphics instead of numbers.  Last summer, on a family trip to a museum, Lester had purchased a book in the gift shop that taught you how to translate ancient Egyptian.  Unfortunately, none of these strange symbols seemed even remotely familiar.

  Lester rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands until his vision blurred, but the alien-like characters remained when things came back into focus.  Perhaps this was some sort of prank?  Maybe having the courage to admit you couldn’t make heads or tails of the problems was the true test?  Lester looked excitedly around the room, hoping to see others doing the same, but everyone else was busy writing.

  “Mr. North,” said Mrs. Q, leering at him from behind her desk.  “Eyes on your own work.”

  Unsure what to do, Lester moved to write his name at the top of the exam.  At least it would be a start.  But as he pressed down, his pencil flew from his sweaty grip and clattered loudly to the floor.  Ignoring Mrs. Q’s glare, he retrieved it and returned to his seat.

  Glancing at the timing clock, he saw that ten minutes had passed, and he had yet to answer a single question.  This was not good.  His face felt hot, and he reached up to check his forehead.  Maybe he was coming down with something.  Was it too early for the flu?

  Once on a ski vacation, Lester and Amanda had played a game.  The rules had been simple.  Sit in the outdoor hot tub for five minutes, then jump out into the snow.  Whoever could stand the cold the longest would be the winner.  When it had become clear he was never going to beat Amanda, Lester had gladly admitted defeat and plunged back into the steaming water.  Now, sitting in class, it was as if he was falling into it again.

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  The heat started in his shoes, climbed up his legs, and slowly filled his torso.  By the time it reached his hairline, the whole room had taken on a pinkish hue.  Sounds around him became muffled.  The noise of the other student’s pencils scribbling away and the ceaseless ticking of the timing clock became distant as if coming to him from afar. 

  Lester felt delirious.  Could this be what a panic attack was?  It would make sense as he was sure he wasn’t going to pass the test, which was definitely making him panic.  Was this what school was like for Bernard?  Had Lester hit some sort of intellectual wall?  Would this happen in all of his classes?

  As beads of sweat dripped from his brow, Lester watched the red second hand on the timing clock tick forward, pause — and then click back.  Dumbfounded, he shook his head, sending pain ricocheting between his ears, which began to ring.  Squeezing his eyes shut, he fought not to pass out.

  He was slowly raising his hand, careful to avoid jostling the rest of his body, to tell Mrs. Q that he needed to go to the nurse when his ears popped.  There was a sharp pain, quickly followed by the rapid release of pressure.  Then, magically, like the lifting of a veil, his head cleared.  The sensation was euphoric.

  Lester could still hear ringing but no longer felt quite so hot.  In fact, he felt a bit — wet?  Opening his eyes, he realized two things.  The ringing in his ears was coming from the fire alarm, and he felt wet because the sprinkler system was dousing the entire classroom in cold water.  

  “Students, remain calm!” Mrs. Q shouted over the alarm.  “Gather your bags and move in an orderly fashion to the exit.”

  Still dazed, Lester joined the line of students holding backpacks over their heads and made his way to the door.

  Out in the main hall, he merged into the shuffling flow of kids streaming from every classroom and noticed he was no longer walking through a downpour.  While the fire alarm rang throughout the school, it had only activated the sprinkler system in his classroom.

  Lester looked back through the window of the closed math room door.  Water continued to cascade from the ceiling, and there, in the middle of it, brushing her bright hair out of her face, stood Mrs. Q.  Their eyes met for a brief moment, and then someone was tugging on his arm.

  Lester turned to find Mae Chase standing beside him.

  “This is crazy, right?” Mae said, grinning.  “Lucky for you, though?”

  “How’s that?” Lester asked, his toes squishing in his sneakers.

  “You didn’t have to take the test!”

   They stepped out into the sunlight and followed everyone onto the soccer field. 

  “Wait a minute,” said Mae, looking him up and down as the teachers grouped them by grade.  “Why are you all wet?”

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