Chapter Three

“So it was that Persephone was abducted by the Gods of the underworld and taken to their dreadful kingdom, and while she stayed a season as a captive there, winter ruled on earth.”

It was story hour, a tradition the teachers had revived as approaching summer made school harder to bear for teachers and students alike. Today it was Tam’s turn to read for the children, a duty she enjoyed.

One of the older boys had already corrupted the heroine’s name to Preserve Phony, and insisted that it meant “fake jelly” when translated. Tam liked him, in spite of his bad puns. She no longer had any illusions about why he was there. Once she had believed that he was responding to her abilities as a storyteller. He always occupied a place on the floor directly in front of her, as close as he could get, and stared up at her raptly. Only last week, when the librarian took Tam aside to suggest that she wear pantsuits rather than skirts, did Tam realize that his devotion was not to literature.

Still, she understood that he was not so much lecherous as lovestruck. He had reached the awkward age. The down on his cheeks was beginning to coarsen, his voice was squeaking its way toward baritone, and Tam suspected that dreams of her had already stained his sheets. He would be a handsome man in a few years.

The story ended. Tam thanked the students for their attention. There would be no more stories again until autumn, so many of the students stayed to say goodbye. The punster lingered, suddenly aware that the object of his obsession would soon be gone. Tam wished him well, yielding to a perverse impulse as she gripped his hand with both of hers and stared into his eyes. She was delighted to see him flush scarlet. He would suffer the pangs of unrequited love for a time. By next year, at the latest, Tam knew that cupid’s arrows would find a younger and more likely target for him. She couldn’t help comparing the simplicity and innocence of his emotions to the twisted darkness of her own.

It had been quite a week for Tam, starting when she confessed her fantasies of confinement and abuse before her peers, and taking an even odder turn when she discovered the latent lesbian in herself. It was likely to be a summer filled with surprises.

That night, Jana called again.

“Come tonight at seven,” she commanded.

“Can we make it eight? I have papers to correct.”

“Don’t make me angry,” Jana warned.

Tam started to protest