Eudora's Gift

Chapter Three

Jericho drummed his fingers on his desk impatiently.  She was here in this school.  When he'd interviewed with the school board on Friday he'd detected her scent, faint but familiar in the hallways.  It had been fairly easy to get the substitute position, as teachers seemed to be in short supply.  He had never been a teacher, but he had his Masters in English, and a glowing (but fake) resume to impress the school board.  His employment was conditional on passing background checks, but he wasn't worried about that.  His background was squeaky clean, and there were no official records of the work that he did.  A few phone calls, a few favors called in, and he had plenty of references to verify his fake resume.

By the time he entered the classroom for first period behind the assistant principle, the classroom had been awash in the sweet scent of lilacs and violets.  The floral scent was absolutely intoxicating, and he wanted to abandon this pretext of being a teacher.  But his mother's advice echoed in his head.  Go slow, build trust.  And strangely, he couldn’t pinpoint which girl in the class was the One.  Several of the girls were ogling him, their immature and hungry gazes sweeping over his body, but as he looked at each one of them in turn, he felt nothing, he didn't feel any connection.  Shouldn't he just know?  He had surely reached the epicenter of the "pull" on his soul, so why couldn't he pin-point her?

The bell rang, and the students shuffled out.  The scent dissipated, but enough lingered just to tease him, and remind him just how close he was.

He taught two other classes, a CP English and a standard English.  The students were obviously bored and uninterested.  Mrs. Dipalma's teaching style had been dry and dull.  Most of the kids wrote the same kind of cookie cutter essays, following some kind of formula that Mrs. Dipalma must have taught them.  They were academically correct, but boring and unoriginal.

He picked up the next essay in the pile.  It had been hand written on college ruled paper in small, neat cursive writing.  He sat back and read, his eyebrows inching higher with each paragraph.  Now here was a writer!  He checked the title page to verify the name.  "Eudora Stone". It was thoughtful, original, a little provoking, and very well written.  It was the kind of essay that universities were looking for.  He took a pen and gave her an A, then added a note, "Please type and resubmit."  He tried to remember which student was Eudora Stone, but he couldn't recall.  He had met too many that day to put names and faces together.

He loosened his tie and reminded himself to be patient.

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There was something strange about her first period English class.  All the girls were whispering about how hot Mr. Carrole was.  Eudora had also admired him from under her hoodie.  But a man that good looking was not going to be single and available, and he certainly wasn't going to be interested in some giggly high school girl.  That didn't stop the girls in the front row from practically throwing themselves at his feet.  Tara Wells was showing so much cleavage today, Eudora thought her breasts might fall right out of her shirt.  But it must be more than just his s****l appeal, because she felt a strange tension in the air, like the whole room was holding its breath in anticipation.   But when she glanced around, students were generally minding their own business, doing their work or whispering with their friends.  No one else seemed particularly effected.  There was also a strange smell in the room, something warm and delicious, like hot caramel.  Mr. Carrole had a cup of coffee on his desk, and she wondered absently if the scent came from the coffee.

He was lecturing something about how the sixties hippy culture had influenced American writers, and she was half listening as she alternately doodled and took notes.  She felt uncomfortable and antsy.  She thought maybe she was hypoglycemic, maybe she needed to eat something.  That must be why the smell of caramel was driving her crazy.  As he talked, he walked randomly up and down the aisles.  She shrank down and covered her face as he approached her corner.  He tapped on her desk.  "Excuse me, doodle bug.  What is your name?"

The class snickered, and she shrank further back in her chair, her mouth clamped shut.

"That's Eudora!" somebody offered.  "She never talks!"

"Eudora Stone?  Your last essay was extraordinary.  Congratulations."

His unexpected compliment made her look up involuntarily, right into his face.  She stared into his grey eyes and felt the strangest sensation.  She was dizzy, she was sinking, the rest of the classroom was fading away.  She wanted to reach for him, touch him... She tore her eyes away and looked down at her hands, embarrassed.  What the hell was wrong with her today?

She really needed to eat something.  She felt close to fainting just then... and she thought she must be hallucinating.  She thought for a moment that she'd seen something in Mr. Carolle's expression, something needy and hungry.

He cleared his throat and continued up the aisle, picking up on his lecture about the younger generation finding their voice during the war protests of the 60's. 

When the bell rang, Eudora sprinted for the door with lightning speed, thanking god that if nothing else, she was fast.  She went to the girl's rest room and locked herself in a stall.  She still felt strange.  Her head felt heavy, her stomach was churning, she felt off-balance.  She thought about going to the school nurse, but decided against it.  If she was really sick, they would call Uncle Foster, and that would be a disaster.

She let herself out of the stall and splashed some cold water on her face.  She looked at herself in the streaky mirror.  Her cheeks were flushed, like she had a fever.  Her eyes were overly bright.  The bruise on her cheek bone where Uncle Foster had backhanded her in the kitchen was fading into ugly shades of yellow and green.  She dug around in her backpack and found enough spare change to buy a granola bar from the vending machine.  It was just low blood sugar, she told herself.  Everything was fine.