Teacher sat at her desk in the pink-flower bedroom, working on the lesson for tomorrow's class. As the oldest kid in the family, it was her job to teach the little ones, to make sure they didn't run around like wild animals. But nobody had ever told her how to be a teacher. She had to make it up as she went. Now she was hunched over The Book, searching for inspiration. She had been stuck on page 14 for a while:
Teacher picked up a pen and wrote on a blank piece of paper: Tauruses, telephones. And then she crossed out those words and wrote, below them: 2002, germs, fire, man, danger. She swung her feet under her chair, banging against the rungs. The words blurred together in her vision for a moment.With a sharp swipe of her pen, she crossed those words out, too. Teacher shook her head, and then turned her attention back to The Book. She began turning the pages slowly, gingerly. Some of the clippings and photographs she'd pasted in over the last five years were starting to peel away; they crackled as she turned the pages. She made a mental note to herself to take care of that one of these days. She should send Hunter for more glue or paste -- whatever he could find.A passage on page 104, written in purple ink, caught her attention:TAURUSES: 2002 IS YOUR YEAR! AS NEPTUNE
GOES INTO RETROGRADE, YOU WILL FIND
INCREDIBLE OPPORTUNITIES FOR CHANGE,
PERSONAL GROWTH -- AND ROMANCE!EASY ON SINKS. TOUGH ON GERMS.
IMPORTANT SAFETY
INSTRUCTIONS:When using your telephone unit, these simple safety precautions should always be observed in order to lessen the risk of electrical shock, fire, and injury.
STRONG ENOUGH FOR A MAN.
CLEARLY MADE FOR YOU.
DANGER! CUIDADO!
A DREAM
We are at a picnic in the park. There are people everywhere -- Grown-ups, children, babies. And dogs running around. But where is our dog? He must have gone off again, probably chasing a Frisbee somewhere.
First Daddy is making hot dogs on the grill. First Mommy is helping him; they're laughing about something. I look up at them: they're big tall Grown-ups. There is a little girl with us -- who is she? Curly blond hair. She's wearing a pink tutu over her T-shirt and shorts. She keeps begging me to play catch with her.
I finally say yes, and she hugs me. She won't let go. Let's play catch, okay? Stop hugging me. But she still won't let go.
Teacher trailed her fingers down the page. The purple words were in her handwriting. The thing was, she didn't remember writing them, couldn't even remember whose dream it was. This was starting to happen more and more often with The Book -- these unfamiliar entries. Often she woke up in the mornings, slumped at her desk, The Book still open under her cheek.
A branch tapped at the window. Traffic on the street. Sprinklers hissing and a radio chattering from next door, a vacuum cleaner droning, the hum of an air conditioner -- sometimes these sounds seemed so real. So real. As if they were really out there, along with Grown-ups and pets and report cards and soccer games.
Teacher closed her eyes and made herself listen to the sounds she really could hear. Downstairs: that was Mommy puttering around the kitchen, cupboard doors banging and shutting. A humid breeze wafted through the open window, carrying with it the sounds of Baby and Doll playing their silly dolly games. Yes, eat all your beets, all your beets like a good dolly, came the singsong voices.
Teacher wondered if Teddy Bear was with them. He was always so quiet, half the time you had no idea if he was around. Action Figure was probably off someplace, maybe with Hunter. She hoped they came home soon. It was going to storm. She could smell the dampness in the air that lay on her skin like extra clothes.
She opened her eyes and blinked. She stared at the thing above her desk, the thing she had never liked but had never thought to take down: a painting of a girl riding a horse. It lay against the faded cream wallpaper with the tiny pink roses and the blooming stains of mildew.
Teacher often wondered about the person who had put it there, the person who had lived in this room in the Before Time, before Fire-us. Had the person been a girl? The girl on the horse, even? Were they the same age? And was that girl even alive anymore?
Mommy's voice cut into her thoughts: Girrr-rrls! Dinner! Come in and wash your hands!
Teacher sighed. The lessons for tomorrow's class would have to wait until later. It was best to work late at night, anyway, after everyone had gone to bed. There was total silence then, except for the twanging of bullfrogs and the occasional scream of a panther. Once in a while the little kids might cry or babble in their sleep, but that was a good thing -- that was Information.
Dinner! Mommy yelled again.
Teacher started to close The Book, and then hesitated. It was open to page 128 -- when had she turned to that page? Bright red words leaped out at her:
LOSE 15 POUNDS IN 15 DAYS
WITH THE AMAZING NEW
PASTA AND PAPAYA DIET!
Teacher frowned. A vague, troubling thought niggled at her. Food. Something about food. Something bad.
Fire-us #1: The Kindling. Copyright © by Jennifer Armstrong. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.