This Side of Salvation

CHAPTER 23

NOW

The next morning, Mr. Ralph welcomes me back to Math Cave like the prodigal student I am. After class, as the other students leave, I approach him in his office, penitent. “I’m sorry I left. It was stupid of me to give up like that. I hope you can forgive me.”

Mr. Ralph turns to me, shutting his file cabinet drawer. “Mara said you were trying to make your parents happy. They really turned your life upside down.”

You have no idea . I just nod in reply.

“It’s a lot to put on someone so young. I don’t blame you for giving up.” He rubbed his dark red goatee, which he’d grown in my absence. It was a good look for him. “Of course, you have to face the consequences of your decisions. I’ll give you extra time to catch up, but you’ll have to do all the work you missed.”

“I know. Thanks.”

“Anyway, I hope the four of you can get some help and find real happiness.”

I flinch at his words, though I’m not sure whether it’s at “happiness” or “four.” I want to run to the car to escape his concern, but I need something from him, so I mumble another thanks.

Mr. Ralph examines my face, then takes on the patented understanding-teacher pose: sitting on the edge of his desk, one foot propped on a chair, hand resting on a knee. Casual, nonthreatening, stable. They must teach that pose in college.

“David, I’m not a counselor, but I’ve been to counseling. My first wife and I, we married very young and fought a lot. We said and did a lot of dumb, hurtful things. By the time we finally went for help, we could barely be in the same room together. Anyway, our minister told us something that we couldn’t understand and use at the time, because we were so mad. But maybe you can use it.”

I doubt it, since anger is crowding out 95 percent of my other thoughts. “What’d he say?”

“He said, ‘It’s not our ability to get forgiveness that saves us. It’s our ability to grant forgiveness.’”

I nod again. “That’s a really good point.” One I’ll have to ponder later. Right now I’m a man on a mission. “Hey, I wanted to ask if I could make it up to you for my absence. I know it’s a hassle to get me caught up, so I thought maybe I could help with grading papers or something.”

Mr. Ralph looks at the giant stack of paper on the corner of his desk. “Well, I am always behind. But I can’t pay you.”

“I don’t want to be paid. That’s the whole point.”

“My other section’s syllabus is less advanced than yours, so you won’t gain any knowledge of your future tests by handling theirs.” Mr. Ralph opens a file cabinet drawer and pulls out a huge green hanging folder. “I graded these quizzes but haven’t had time to record the scores. If you did that for me, I could hand them back to the students in the next class.” He checks his watch. “You should have just enough time.”

“No problem.” I take the folder and the ledger notebook to the small table in the corner, and he returns to his desk.

The ledger lists all names, homework grades, and test results for this semester. Each student has his or her own line, with a box for each assignment or quiz. My boxes are blank starting with March 31.

I run my finger down the grid. Not far from the top is a girl whose boxes go blank the same day as mine. A fifteen-year-old girl, with an eighteen-year-old brother who kept coming to class.

Eve and Ezra Decker.

From the corner of my eye, I see Mara appear outside the door, out of Mr. Ralph’s sight line. I tap my pencil against my chin, our signal.

She comes to the threshold. “Mr. Ralph, I have a question about the extra-credit problem you put on the board. Can you come clarify?”

“Sure.”

The moment his back is turned, I flip to the front of the ledger, where I’ve seen him look up phone numbers to call students’ parents.

I roll up my sleeve and write the Deckers’ address and phone number on my arm.

We are ready to stalk.