Summer Morning, Summer Night (Green Town 4)

“My name is Ann Taylor,” she said quietly to them, “and I’m your new teacher.”

The room seemed suddenly flooded with illumination, as if the roof had moved back. Bob Markham sat with a spit ball hidden in his hand. After a half hour of listening to Miss Taylor, he quietly let the spit ball drop to the floor.

That afternoon after class, he brought in a bucket of water and a rag and began to wash the boards.

“What’s this?” She turned from her desk where she had been correcting spelling papers.

“The boards are kind of dirty,” said Bob.

“Yes, I know. Are you sure you want to clean them?”

“I suppose I should have asked permission,” he said, halting uneasily.

“I think we can pretend you did,” she replied, smiling, and at this smile he finished the boards in an amazing burst of speed and pounded the erasers so furiously that the air was full of snow, it seemed, outside the open window.

“Let’s see,” said Miss Taylor. “You’re Bob Markham, aren’t you?”

“Yes’m.”

“Well, thank you, Bob.”

“Could I do them every afternoon?” he asked.

“Don’t you think you should let the others try?”

“I’d like to do them,” he said. “Every afternoon.”

“We’ll try it for a while and see,” she said.

He lingered.

“I think you’d better run on home,” she said finally.

“Good night.” He walked slowly and was gone.

The next morning he happened by the place where she took board and room just as she was coming out to walk to school.

“Well, here I am,” he said.

“And do you know,” she said, “I’m not surprised.”

They walked together.

“May I carry your books?” he asked.

“Why, thank you, Bob.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, taking them.

They walked for a few minutes and he did not say a word. She glanced over and slightly down at him and saw how at ease he was and happy he seemed, and she decided to let him break the silence, but he never did. When they reached the edge of the school grounds, he gave the books back to her. “I guess I better leave you here,” he said. “The other kids wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m not sure I do either, Bob.”

“Why, we’re friends,” he said earnestly.

“Bob—” she began.

“Yes’m?”