He found the problem and wrote it in his notebook, taking time to make every number perfect. If it was a one, instead of drawing a straight line he included the angle at the top and the line at the bottom. Sevens, he crossed. He added tiny tails to the ends of his twos.

At the far end of the schoolhouse, a child began to cry. I turned and there was Billy crouched between two of the little ones, reminding them to take turns with the blocks. I glanced at Liz, who was leading a workshop with her high school students; each of them was reading an essay, scrawling comments in their margins. I felt the twoness of Lee and me. The only pair. I was all he had, so I’d need to do my best. I looked at the notebook again to see his progress but found none had been made. He was turned to the window, fear plain on his face.

I followed his gaze but all I saw was a foggy sky with a bright spot where the sun broke through. A tangle of colorful flowers. Two red birds darting and falling and rising again.

But when I turned back I saw that his eyes were unfocused. His face had lost its color; he was gritting his teeth.

“Lee,” I said. “What is it?”

He didn’t answer me. I couldn’t tell if he’d even heard what I’d said.

“Lee,” I said louder. I looked behind me, but all the others were focused on themselves. It was just Lee and me, and I had to get him through whatever this was. Gently, I placed my hand on his shoulder and he startled, turned to me.

“What did you see out there?” I asked him, making sure my voice was soft, making sure I seemed purely good and calm and concerned, that I was the kind of person he would want to be there with him as he went through whatever it was he was enduring.

“Was it a ghost?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “The ghosts only come out when it’s dark.”

___

Julia entered the schoolhouse at three o’clock to ring a brass bell.

“Lessons are finished for the day,” she said when the chime faded, and across the schoolroom chairs were pushed out, books were shut and stacked, paper and pencils were put away. The little ones lined up. Lee was up and out of his chair, placing his supplies in the cabinet. Everyone but me knew what to do.

“Mila, come walk with me,” Julia said, and I was relieved to be called away. She led me down the gravel road toward the highway. The two goats chewed grass.

“They’re stubborn little creatures,” Julia said. “And strong, too. The white one’s Annabelle; she’ll tolerate petting. Percy is the brown fellow and he’s got a mean streak. Now I’ve warned you.”

“They’re very cute.”