He wanted to sit in on Amy’s class and listen to her teach, hear her voice, watch her body move across the room. The girl next to him wore a black turtleneck sweater, baring an inch of her tummy above her too low-cut jeans; she looked at him, wrinkled her nose. He smiled at the girl, hopefully letting her know he was completely harmless before she raised her hand and asked Mrs. Reynolds who the old geezer sitting next to her was.

Dim and dusty light illuminated the podium more than the room itself. He hoped the low light would assist him in his mission of obscurity.

Amy entered the room, making him feel warm, safe. She wore a pair of brown corduroy pants with high-heeled boots and a tan sweater with fringe at the sleeves. Her hair fell loose over her shoulders, but when she turned around to pull down another chalkboard, he saw she had tried to attach a tortoiseshell barrette in the waves. She looked like just another student, not a forty-something-year-old teacher with two grown kids. She plopped her books down on the podium and smiled at the class.

“How was break?” she asked in the general direction of the slouched and rustling students who were opening their notebooks, searching for pencils, girls opening and closing their purses.

“Fine,” “Great,” “Too short,” “Cold.”

It sounded like they all answered twice as the various replies echoed off the brick walls.

Amy squinted against the faint light. “Steve . . .” She motioned to a student sitting by the far wall. “Will you turn on the auditorium lights? I hate when I can’t see everyone.”

“Sure, Mrs. Reynolds.” A tall blond boy stood and sauntered toward the light switch. Nick slouched further down in his seat.

Amy turned to the chalkboard. “Let’s start with the syllabus for the semester.” She began to pass out a pile of papers. “We’ll begin with the Greek-revival period and how it made its way into the architecture of Lowcountry South Carolina.”

She wrote “Greek Revival” on the board and turned to the class. “Melody, you were in my last class. Do you remember where we left off during this period?”

“I think it was with an eggnog on the back porch of the historic Calhoun Hall.”

Amy laughed. “Great memory. Do you remember exactly what we were learning on the back porch of Calhoun Hall?”

“That the Greek-revival period dominated American architecture during the period between 1818 and 1850?”

Amy bowed. “Ah, my mission in teaching something, anything, has not been for naught.”

The class laughed. Nick laughed—too loudly. Amy’s head snapped up and she squinted to the top of the auditorium just as Steve turned on the lights. Her face fell.

Nick flicked his fingers in a tiny, hopefully inconspicuous wave.