Part 15 (2/2)
chapter thirteen.
Devon approaches the cla.s.sroom slowly; the door to it is open. From the entryway, she can already hear Ms. Coughran's voice from inside the room: ”Ladies! Why is it that when we change activities you think it's time to open your mouths? You want to do math facts for the entire day? Because I can definitely make that happen. . . .”
Devon stands in the doorway now, feels her heart speed up, under her arms grow moist. She hates walking into places late. Hates the moment when everybody stops what they're doing and looks at her. Her mom doesn't, though. She loves a grand entrance, loves it when people pause and take her all in.
Enough about her mom. She's not here. It's been exactly a week since Devon's last seen her, been almost five full days spent in this place, and she hasn't even bothered to call or leave a message. It doesn't matter what her mom would do.
Devon raps on the open door three soft times.
Ms. Coughran, perched on her stool, turns toward the door. She smiles over at Devon, waves her inside. ”Just grab that empty seat”-her arm is extended, a finger indicating-”over there.”
Devon turns her eyes, mentally connects the invisible dots between Ms. Coughran's finger and the a.s.signed seat.
Karma is there, one seat away from the only empty seat at that table, the only empty seat in the room, actually. Freshly sprung from Lockdown where she'd been for the past day and a half. And she's watching Devon from under her heavy lids, a slight smile twisting her lips.
Devon gets a sinking feeling inside, a draining sort of dread.
”You're just in time for our weekly health department's presentation,” Ms. Coughran is saying. Then she addresses the room. ”Did you hear that, ladies? We're having a guest speaker. Allison should be here any minute. So that means I expect your behavior to be . . .”
Devon takes a breath and starts moving toward the table, careful to keep her eyes focused on that task and nothing else. She purposefully doesn't acknowledge Karma's stare.
A small girl who Devon doesn't recognize is sitting beside Karma; she's between Karma and the open seat. The girl's hair is so blonde it looks white. Long and thin, like spider silk. Well, good. Devon won't be sitting right beside Karma, at least.
Karma whispers something in the small girl's ear, then gives her a shove. The girl quickly slides over, then ducks her head, long bangs veiling most of her face. Just as Devon arrives, Karma looks up, makes a big smile and pats the now empty seat beside her. ”Right here, Dev,” she whispers. ”Saved you a seat. Ain't I sweet?”
Devon glances over at Ms. Coughran; she's busy with two girls at the front of the room, working out some kind of dispute. She hadn't witnessed the seat switch. Devon wonders what she would've done if she had. Send Karma back to Lockdown for the rest of the day? Devon pulls out the chair and sits. Puts her elbow on the table, rests her head in her hand. Turns her back to Karma.
The chatter in the room picks up now that Ms. Coughran's attention is diverted. A buzz of white noise.
Karma's mouth is suddenly near Devon's ear; Devon can feel her breath. ”Miss me?”
Devon doesn't react at first. Then, ”Not particularly.”
”'Not particularly,'” Karma repeats in a fake British accent. She kicks the back leg of Devon's chair and laughs. ”Yes, I pride myself on my rather vast vocabulary, darling.”
”Ladies!” Ms. Coughran yells at the room. ”What is up with you today?” She stands, holding up her right hand, checking her watch on her left. The noise grinds down. Someone on the other side of the room spurts a sudden loud laugh, squeals, ”Dang, girl!” Then, ”Oops. Sorry, Ms. Coughran.”
Ms. Coughran watches her own foot tapping the floor-tap, ta-tap, tap-waiting for complete silence. When she finally gets it, she looks up. ”It seems that Allison is running behind. So, while we're waiting on her, let's have some quiet time-notice the emphasis on the word quiet?-thinking about your goals for today. I'm talking very short-term goals here, all right? They can be as simple as not losing any points today or eating your lunch without complaining about what it is.”
”The only good thing is when we get pizza,” someone says from another table. A small girl, black hair, cut short, little face with tiny features and wide dark eyes. An anime girl.
”Wow,” Karma whispers to herself. ”That was random.”
”I didn't see a hand, Macee,” Ms. Coughran says to the girl. ”Please use it next time.” She turns back to the room. ”So, ladies, I want one goal you have for yourself. All right? Then I want a second goal involving a good deed you're going to do for someone else. Again, it can be small. It can be as simple as a smile. It can be a compliment. Or it can be more significant, like helping someone with her ch.o.r.e. But you need to pick out a specific person and then come up with a specific deed. Understand?”
Jenevra raises her hand.
Ms. Coughran looks over at her. ”Yes?”
”Can pa.s.sing out the pencils count? 'Cause I already did that today for you. Actually, for all of us. Before we did that Sudoku stuff. Remember?”
”No,” Ms. Coughran says. ”It can't be something that somebody told you to do. You can't count the ch.o.r.es you've been a.s.signed, ladies. It has to be something you come up with all on your own, out of the goodness of your heart-”
Karma snorts.
”But that was a good question, Jenevra. Thank you. Anyone else?”
Ms. Coughran looks around the room.
Karma kicks Devon's chair again. ”Watch this,” she whispers. Then she raises her arm.
”Okay,” Ms. Coughran says. ”Karma?”
”'You have two hands. One to help yourself, and the second to help others.' A wise saying from my good friend Anonymous, which I thought would inspire all of us to work really extremely hard on our goals today.”
Ms. Coughran smiles. ”Thank you, Karma, for that contribution. Anyone else have something to share?” n.o.body says anything. ”Okay. Let's see. . . . Karma. Since you seem so excited about the concept of serving others, why don't you show us how it's done? Please get some paper off the shelf for me and hand out one piece to everyone.”
”Absolutely, Ms. Coughran.” Karma stands, stretches both arms high over her head, then saunters over to a cluttered shelf, removes a small stack of white paper.
”I want these goals on paper, ladies,” Ms. Coughran continues. ”It'll seem more like a contract that way, and hopefully you'll, in turn, feel more obligated to actually follow through with them. If we have time, whoever would like to share her goals with the cla.s.s may.”
Karma takes her time pa.s.sing out the paper, weaving around the three tables, saying ”for you” to each girl as she hands one sheet to her. When Karma gives Devon hers, she leans over and whispers in Devon's ear, ”You're welcome, Devil,” then kicks her chair before moving on.
”Keep your feet to yourself, Karma,” Ms. Coughran says.
”Ooops!” Karma slaps her hand up to her mouth. ”So sorry! I guess I tripped?” She shrugs. ”Well, as they always say, 'A stumble may prevent a fall.' And I know you wouldn't want me to fall, Ms. Coughran. Would you? You always have my best interests at heart.” She throws her arms out. ”So, it's all good! Right?”
”All right, Karma, just finish up.”
Devon looks over at Ms. Coughran. She's back on her stool, twisting her funky beaded gla.s.ses chain around her index finger, watching. Devon's eyes meet hers. Devon can't read what Ms. Coughran is thinking, but she's definitely got something working in her mind. Devon quickly moves her eyes away, looks down at her blank paper.
When Karma's finished, she returns the remaining stack to the cluttered shelf, then drops into her seat beside Devon.
”Thank you, Karma,” Ms. Coughran says. ”Now, ladies, get busy. Quietly. This is not a group project.” Ms. Coughran retreats behind her desk, starts sorting through papers, tossing some of them into the trash can at her feet.
The room is surprisingly quiet; Ms. Coughran's paper shuffling is the most prominent sound. Devon glances around. Some girls are staring up at the ceiling, others down at their hands. A couple of the girls have put their heads down on the table, obviously sleeping or trying to. The white-haired girl Karma shoved is one of those. Devon checks on Karma out of the corner of her eye. She's drawing anarchy symbols, retracing them over and over, dark broad strokes slas.h.i.+ng across her paper. Her thumbs are looped through holes torn near the cuffs of the long-sleeved white thermal s.h.i.+rt she's wearing under her jumpsuit, the fabric pulled tightly over her hands so only her fingers show.
Devon closes her eyes. She's so tired. That meeting with Dom, it was exhausting. She can feel that exhaustion deep inside her bones. How could merely sitting in a room wipe her out so thoroughly? But she hadn't been ”merely sitting” at all. We've made some real progress, Dom had said. We've. Plural. Dom and Devon-like a team. Dom had smiled at her, too, told her she'd done a good job. Really really great.
And, just like that, Devon realizes she has a goal for the day: she'll try her very best to cooperate with the doctor. Dom had asked her to.
Devon feels a kick at her chair. Her eyes fly open.
”Wake up,” Karma whispers. Then she leans in close, speaks directly into Devon's ear. ”Why are you so happy, Smiley Face? Having a sweet little dream?”
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