Сумерки

           Theschoolwas,likemostotherthings,justoffthehighway.Itwasnotobviousthatitwasaschool;onlythesign,whichdeclaredittobetheForksHighSchool,mademestop.Itlookedlikeacollectionofmatchinghouses,builtwithmaroon-coloredbricks.ThereweresomanytreesandshrubsIcouldn’tseeitssizeatfirst.Wherewasthefeeloftheinstitution?Iwonderednostalgically.Wherewerethechain-linkfences,themetaldetectors?

           Iparkedinfrontofthefirstbuilding,whichhadasmallsignoverthedoorreadingfrontoffice.Nooneelsewasparkedthere,soIwassureitwasofflimits,butIdecidedIwouldgetdirectionsinsideinsteadofcirclingaroundintherainlikeanidiot.Isteppedunwillinglyoutofthetoastytruckcabandwalkeddownalittlestonepathlinedwithdarkhedges.Itookadeepbreathbeforeopeningthedoor.Inside,itwasbrightlylit,andwarmerthanI’dhoped.Theofficewassmall;alittlewaitingareawithpaddedfoldingchairs,orange-fleckedcommercialcarpet,noticesandawardsclutteringthewalls,abigclocktickingloudly.Plantsgreweverywhereinlargeplasticpots,asiftherewasn’tenoughgreeneryoutside.Theroomwascutinhalfbyalongcounter,clutteredwithwirebasketsfullofpapersandbrightlycoloredflyerstapedtoitsfront.Therewerethreedesksbehindthecounter,oneofwhichwasmannedbyalarge,red-hairedwomanwearingglasses.Shewaswearingapurplet-shirt,whichimmediatelymademefeeloverdressed.

           Thered-hairedwomanlookedup.