LITMIR.BIZ

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that’s why I haven’t been in to shoot. School all day, driving truck at night. I just couldn’t take it anymore this morning. At school, they have these big 9-foot tables. I go over there and play between classes, but I miss this,” she said, waving her cue around the bar, taking another drink of beer and a drag of her Marlboro. “Did you hear about that girl from the college who is missing?”

      Shorty wiped the bar with his rag, sopping up the beer Willie had spilled while pushing himself off the bar stool for an unsteady walk to the bathroom. At least he was making it there, not using the back booth as was his nightly habit. All the regulars knew never to sit in that booth. Newcomers soon moved because of the stench.

      “Some of the folks were talking. Then there was an article in The Forum.”

      “Oh? I didn’t see that.”

      “Yeah, just how she seems to have gone to the Cities and hasn’t been heard from since. Her folks are all worried.”

      “She’s in my science class. Was.”

      “Whaddya think happened?

      “I don’t know. I talked to Wheaton last night. He’s asking around.” Cash cleared the table of all the billiard balls. “I s’pose I better go back.” She returned the bar cue to an empty slot on the wall rack. “Guess I’ve missed my English class, but I can still make science and then this afternoon, my last class is judo. Soon I’ll be able to kick fools off bar stools.” She pantomimed a sidekick in Willie’s direction.

      “Keep your nose in the books,” Shorty hollered as the bar door closed behind her.

      Back at campus, she lucked out and pulled into a parking spot just as another car left, right in front of the main buildings. She grabbed her science book and papers off the passenger seat and went to class. The stream of students passing in the halls from class to class made her feel claustrophobic. She was used to the open fields of the prairie. The crush of human bodies, people rushing with no regard for the space around them or the presence of another being, made it hard for her to breathe. She clung to the brick wall and sidled past folks in a hurry, not wanting someone else to grab her seat at the back of the class.

      This classroom had old-fashioned wooden desks, leftovers from the ’50s. The English Department had newer metal desks and plastic chairs. These desks had names and chemical formulas carved into the wood, which meant you had to write your notes on top of a book or your paper would end up with holes every time you hit a carved indent.

      Mr. Danielson was at the front of the room, erasing the previous teacher’s scientific equations from the chalkboard. He was wearing blue jeans with a white shirt tucked in. Close to six feet tall, he had his pale blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, loose strands escaping the rubber band. Cash supposed he looked “hot” in a Rod Stewart kinda way. He started writing notes on the board.

      Sharon walked in the door, wearing a miniskirt that barely covered her hind end. She winked at Cash and then took a seat in the front row, crossing her legs seductively just as Mr. Danielson turned around from the board. Cash shook her head and opened her science book to the day’s assigned page.

      She had just started re-reading the assignment when she heard a soft cough from Sharon. She looked toward the front of the room where Mr. Danielson had gone back to writing on the board. Cash could tell from the way Sharon was leaning back grinning at her that she was sitting with her legs sprawled wide open. When Sharon caught Cash’s eye, she laughed and sat up straight. Mr. Danielson turned around at the laugh, looking at Sharon, who turned back to look at Cash again. When she did, Mr. Danielson followed her eyes to the back of the room. Damn, thought Cash, dipping her head downward, pretending to read from the book.

      The classroom filled. For the next forty minutes, Mr. Danielson expounded on the virtues of photosynthesis, all the while talking about the hibiscus plant and trees in the rain forest. It wasn’t until he briefly mentioned that algae also use photosynthesis that Cash wrote in her notebook—horse tanks.

      Cash was more intrigued by the interplay of personalities happening at the front of the room anyways. Sharon would raise her hand and ask a random, useless question. When Mr. Danielson looked at her to respond, Sharon would posture in ways that sent a signal to everyone in the room that she was flirting with him. Her antics weren’t lost on Mr. Danielson. He stood a little straighter when answering her. By the end of the class, he was sitting on the large wooden desk facing the class, his long legs, in blue jeans, stretched out in front of him, feet crossed at the ankles, while he and Sharon talked about whether or not plants needed photosynthesis to reproduce. No one in the class was taking notes. They were all watching the not-at-all-subtle dance happening between teacher and student. When one of the male students slammed his textbook shut, some kids in the class jumped. They all looked at the clock and started shifting out of their chairs, getting their books and other belongings together as Mr. Danielson stood up quickly and said, “Read Chapter 7, pages 212-245. There will be a test tomorrow. See you all then.”

      Cash was walking out the door when Sharon called her back. Cash turned. Sharon was standing by the desk with Mr. Danielson standing right next to her. “Cash, do you have a piece of paper I can borrow, to write down tomorrow’s assignment on?” Sharon asked with wide-eyed innocence.

      Cash almost kept on walking, but Mr. Danielson said, “Cash. I haven’t seen that name on the class roster. Is that a nickname?”

      Cash took a step back into the room and looked up at him. He was looking at her the way she had seen farmers look at livestock—curious, interested, assessing the livestock’s temperament, determining how easy they could be led into the chute that got them on the truck to take to the slaughter market. Cash shivered, pulling her books close across her chest.

      Sharon answered for her. “She just goes by Cash. Her real name is Renee. Do you have a piece of paper?” she asked again.

      Without moving farther into the room, Cash set her books down on the closest desk and ripped a piece of paper out of her notebook. She held it out at arm’s length so Sharon had to walk toward her to get it. “Come on, let’s go.” Cash looked hard in Sharon’s eyes as Sharon took the paper. “Come on.”

      “I have to get the assignment,” said Sharon, smiling stupidly.

      “Looks like you have gotten all A’s on your quizzes so far, Renee. Renee Blackbear?” said Mr. Danielson looking through his grade book.

      Cash stayed where she was, close to the door. The thought flashed through her mind that maybe it would be a really good idea to test out of this class for more reasons than just not having to sit in class. Cash stood silent as Sharon walked back toward Mr. Danielson, her hips swinging under her miniskirt. When she bent over the desk to write, the skirt rode up indecently. The move was not lost on Mr. Danielson. “Sharon, let’s go,” said Cash.

      “Do you offer a way to get extra credit for those of us who don’t quite understand the sciences?” asked Sharon, finally standing up and tucking her pencil behind her ear. A couple students entered the classroom, jostling past Cash who was still standing by the doorway.

      “You could stop by my office at the end of the day,” he answered Sharon with a smile that made Cash want to gag. “I have a class in here in three minutes.” He gestured toward the students filing into the classroom.

      Sharon turned toward Cash, hips still swinging. At the same time, a slender blonde approached the teacher. He turned his full attention, the attention he had just poured out on Sharon, on the blonde, who laughed and smiled hello to him.

      In the hallway, Cash said, “Are you out of your mind? That guy’s a total creep.”

      “No, he’s not. He’s hot.”

      “Drop it, Sharon.”

      “I’m going to see what kind of ‘extra credit’ he offers.”

      “Don’t.”

      “Come on, don’t be such a fuddy duddy.” Sharon was almost skipping down the flight of stairs that would take them out

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