Last week, two teachers had visited the house, a home visit that each new student was subjected to, to get them acclimated to the adults of this brave new world. Annie had answered the door to two women, one Asian woman with long hair, wearing a button-front shirt with tropical birds, two toucans on each of her breasts. The other was white, shorter, plumper, with permed blond hair and tiny pearls in oversized ears. When they said hello, they’d looked past Annie, a bit over her left shoulder, four eyes in sync, into the foyer, looking for Mrs. Keller.

“She’s at work. I can take you up to Suzy’s bedroom.” The women had glanced at each other, a sharp cluck of disapproval emanating from one of them, before they ironed out their faces and followed Annie into the house and up the stairs.

Suzy was on the floor, playing with blocks, building a fortress around herself, squealing when a wayward leg or arm sent them crashing to the floor. Annie entered the room first and sat on the outskirts of the circle. “Remember when your mommy talked to you about the ladies coming to visit? Well, they’re here to play with you!”

The Asian woman entered and crouched down, offered her pointer finger for Suzy to shake. “I’m Mrs. Keenan, and I’m going to be your teacher. How old are you, Susanna?” And Annie had retreated out into the hall, maintaining a perfect view of the backs of their heads.

Later, after they’d finished socializing with Suzy, Mr. Keller had come down from his office and taken them into the living room, seating them the same way he had positioned Annie all those months ago. Annie stood in the kitchen. Her ear arched, busying herself cleaning the toaster oven, which nearly abuts the swinging door.

“So, how’s our Suzy doing? She seemed excited about the prospect of school a few weeks ago. You know, it’s hard living out here with no neighbors, no other kids to play with. I grew up on a suburban street where every family had at least three kids, so there was always something to do, someone to hang out with. We had her in a play group back in the city, but it was harder to find something like that here.” He was bubbling with words, more loquacious than Annie had ever heard. Nerves. He wanted to make a good impression, ease them into believing his family deserved to be at their school.

There was a pause, and Annie imagined the two women were glancing at each other again, communicating silently, their shared consciousness set aglow.

“Mr. Keller, has Suzy been briefed on what her days will be like at Windsong?” one of them says, her words measured, like she’s baking a very complicated cake with her diction.