“You’ll really have to talk to Mr. Groh, the principal,” she told him. “I’m not authorized to let anyone speak to the class, unless they’re a qualified lecturer or teacher.”

“Allen!” shouted the boy. “Where did Allen go?”

Neil’s hands were shaking, and there was sweat on his upper lip. He wiped his mouth against his sleeve, and he said to Mrs. Novato, “One minute, and that’s all. I promise you. And if I start to say something you don’t like, you can throw me out.”

Mrs. Novato looked more bewildered than anything else. Neil said, “Please,” and at last she sighed, as if she were really allowing this against her better judgment, and as if she couldn’t understand why all the complicated things in life had to happen to her.

She led him up to the front of the class, onto her small plinth, and she raised her hands for silence. Neil felt unexpectedly embarrassed in front of all these expectant childish faces. He looked for Toby, and spotted him at last near the back of the room, sitting next to a pale girl with dark hair. Toby was openly pleased to see his daddy standing up there, but puzzled too. The boy sitting in front of Toby was obviously asking him, behind his hand, what his pop was up to, standing nervously in front of the eight-year-olds at Bodega school-house, his mind crowded with fears and dreams, and Neil wished he could have answered that question himself.

Mrs. Novato rapped her ruler on the desk for silence, and said, “Class, I want your attention for a moment. Mr. Fenner here, Toby’s father, wants to speak a few important words to you. It’s about the bad dreams that some of you have been having, so I believe you ought to pay close attention.”

Neil coughed, and found himself blushing. “Thank you, Mrs. Novato. It’s kind of you to let me speak. All I want to say is, Toby’s been having some pretty unpleasant nightmares lately, and Mrs. Novato tells me that some of the rest of you have, too. Would you be kind enough to put up your hand if you’ve been having nightmares?”

There was a silence. The children stared at Neil, expressionless. Mrs. Novato gave a twitchy little smile, and said, “Come on now, children. You know that one or two of you have. Petra, how about you?”

Petra, the little girl sitting next to Toby, raised her hand. So did Toby. Then, one by one, others raised their hands. Ben Nichelini, Andy Beaver, Debbie Spurr, Linus Hopland, Daniel Soscol. Every child in the class of twenty-one.

Mrs. Novato glanced worriedly at Neil, and said, “I had no idea that all of them—”