Intuition of Infatuation
Ricky going to the board stood out as he was the toughest kid in school. It being the fifth grade, that’s not saying much. Unbidden and glassy eyed he went gliding up to the board and began drawing a crude female form. Mrs. Hubbard started yelling at him, and everyone was laughing.
Out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw a lady in black stockings sitting on the window ledge. If she was there, she’d vanished by the time he really looked. The commotion at the front of the room redoubled, and Alex whipped around to see his teacher standing perplexed over Ricky as he convulsed on the floor, still clutching the chalk.
Call it intuition or infatuation, what stood out was that Janine was not in her desk. Perhaps she had gone for help. Again, intuition or not, he turned back to check for the lady in black stockings. She was there this time, outside in the play yard, lithe and graceful, dark in the afternoon sun.
Janine was holding the woman’s hand as they walked slowly toward the woods beyond the school.