Moonglass

in with. That was just the way it worked. But she’d grown on me, and I already considered her a friend.
    She looked at her watch and pushed a small, dense lump that resembled a cookie at me. “Eat this right after seventh. It’s a little energy nugget. I saw the recipe in some health food book and gave it to our chef. Hopefully it’s edible.” I took the nugget. “Thanks. And thanks for lunch, Ash.” I slipped my backpack over my shoulders, and she grabbed up her giant black bag. “I appreciate it
    —everything, I mean.”
    She tilted her head and smiled, then gave me a quick hug. “It’s what I do.” And then she was bouncing off again. I checked the room number for my seventh-period class and headed toward the three-hundred building.

CHAPTER 14
    The tardy bell rang, and I slid into my seat, grateful that last period had finally arrived. Despite the fact that there was no teacher in the front of the room, the chatter that came in from the hall way had dwindled to a whisper here and there as everyone looked around for some direction. I saw a blond girl from my math class, but when we made eye contact, she looked away quickly without acknowledging me. Someone cleared their throat from the back of the room, and the distinct clack of heels slowly made its way up one of the rows.
    “Well, good afternoon. Aren’t you all just a bundle of energy today.” Everyone else turned back to look, but I recognized her voice from the beach immediately and kept my eyes straight ahead, focused hard on the whiteboard. This had to be a joke. No wonder she could quote poetry. Her heels clacked up the aisle in slow, measured steps, and I wondered if her feet ached after a summer of barefoot walks on the beach. I snuck a look once she passed my row. With her hair pulled back into a bun and her tailored dress, I might not have even recognized her at first. The only hint of the Joy from the beach was the tanned skin that crinkled around her eyes as she turned around and smiled warmly at us. I looked down immediately.
    “Welcome,” she said. Nobody said anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few heads nod. “Well ”—she straightened up—”I’m sure you’ve spent the day listening to everyone’s class rules and plans, and that you probably didn’t really listen to any of it. It’s your first day back, I know. Mine too. I’m Ms. Lewis.” Joy Lewis, I thought. Who knew my mother, and too much about me to be my teacher. Perfect .
    She spoke in a calm but firm voice. “My rules are simple. I expect you to act like responsible people.” She paused, and I looked out the window, which framed blue sky and the barely discernable horizon of the ocean. “And I expect you to think.” I glanced up. She was at the front of the classroom, scanning our faces for some flicker of something. I watched her eyes look up and down the rows, until they stopped at me, and this time I didn’t look away. There was a visible shift in her expression and a noticeable beat before she spoke again, like she had lost the thread of her speech. She smiled vaguely and nodded before continuing.
    “Since this is World Literature, we’ll be starting at the beginning, with a favorite topic of mine. Mythology.” Of course . I looked down at my desk, but I could feel her eyes still on me. “Now, I don’t mean your standard Greek mythology. You guys did that in seventh grade. This quarter we’re gonna take a look at some lesser-known myths. Some that have found their way into our movies and books and music without us even realizing what they are.” She looked around, and we sat in silence. I focused hard on the letters carved into the corner of the desk. Thick layers of blue and black ink speled out a four-letter word that echoed my general sentiment at the moment.
    She chuckled softly. “You guys are a tough audience, this first day of school, last class of the day. I get it. I’d rather be out there too, to tell you the truth.” She motioned to the window and finally won a few murmurs of agreement. “How about this. Anyone have an idea about why we have myths in the first place?”
    After a long moment a brunette in the front row raised her hand and spoke tentatively. “Um, to explain things people didn’t understand?” Joy (Ms. Lewis) clapped her hands, and I glanced up. “Yes, honey! Thank you! To explain the things we don’t understand. Because it’s in us to want to answer things, right? The things that nag at us and