by John Stone
Grace walked inside and tried to remember the lesson she learned at the quaint little inn. She kept her eyes downcast and tried to exude an air of warmth and respect. She sat down along with the man and asked him a few sincere questions about the town itself. This was just in order to warm him up to her line of questioning and further establish her rouse. This time, she asked if there was any way she would be allowed inside the school.
“They didn’t let you in? Ah, security these days, I should have known,” he said.
“I need to work on this article that I am writing, so I need to get into the school. Perhaps you can help,” Grace said sweetly. “People know you here and I could use a little helping hand.”
“Perhaps I can,” and with that he got up from his seat. He grabbed his coat and motioned for her to come with him. “Don’t wait for me. I am taking this young lady to our school,” he called out, but to nobody responded or seemed to care. He walked out the door and Grace followed on his heels.
“Can you walk? Or should I take out my scooter?” he asked jokingly.
“I guess, I prefer to walk,” Grace replied with a smile.
It was a fifteen minute walk before they both reached the school. The guard was still there and he looked mildly miffed upon seeing her again. However, this time he saw that Grace was not alone and accompanied by a local.
“Mr. Kourim” he greeted respectfully.
“Andrew, kindly let us in. And oh, she is with me,” he said.
“Who is she, Mr. Kourim?” the guard asked, leveling his eyes at Grace.
Grace realized that up until now, she didn’t mention her name, so she said, “I am June.” She remembered to use her false name this time and Mr. Kourim picked up on it.
“This is June,” he echoed, “and she is a reporter from the city. She is here to interview old residents and locals about how this part of the town used to be. Maybe, if she could meet the principal, then it would help her with her research. Am I right, young lady?”
Grace nodded and returned a smile. The guard didn’t say anything, but hesitated awhile as he worked it all over in his head. Then, he greeted Mr. Kourim again and opened the gate for them.
“Wait here,” he said, and then he made a quick call.
Finally, Grace and the old man were allowed to go in. Grace looked at Mr. Kourim and realized that this seemingly simple-looking man was quite well-known and respected in this town. She felt happy that her plan was working. She also thought there was something familiar about his name, but she didn’t have time to work it through.
A middle-aged woman was sitting behind the secretary desk when they walked inside the office. She had glasses on and was writing something down in a hurry. Grace didn’t say anything and waited for Mr. Kourim to initiate a greeting. He held his tongue respectfully and Grace knew that he was waiting for the secretary to finish her work. When the woman behind the desk finally looked up, she greeted Mr. Kourim with a warm smile.
“Alexis,” he said, and the secretary returned the greeting with an equally warm and kind nod of the head.
Soon Grace found that the gaze was on her.
“Hello, I am June.”
“Alexis, this is June,” Mr. Kourim introduced formally. Then, Mr. Kourim informed the secretary what he knew about Grace and her purpose of coming to the school.
The secretary kindly waited for him to finish. Then, she asked Grace some more details regarding her purpose for visiting the town and the school. Grace was cross-examined in a way, but she answered each question with an intelligent lie. It bothered her somewhat, but deep inside she knew that those lies were only to aid her greater purpose.
They were asked to wait some more by the principal of the school, who was known by the name of Mrs. West. Grace waited patiently, but tapped her toe on the tile floor. Sitting on one of the benches in the corridor reminded her of her own school. She saw Mr. Kourim was chatting away with the secretary and thought that they must be quite familiar with each other. Grace looked at the cute drawings that were hung around the office by children of the school, and she figured that this had to be a primary school. There were faint noises coming from children reciting tables or poems in the background. The monotonous tone of their voices rekindled her own memories, and for a moment, she forgot the purpose of her visit. Grace smiled at the thought that once she was also a part of this world.
Grace tilted her head and saw two children walk past the corridor. The children giggled and gave a sideways glance at Grace before going on their way. She could hear the teachers reading out passages from their lesson books. Sometimes, she heard the naughty and mischievous ones getting scolded. Everything Grace saw filled her with a sense of nostalgia. Memories sparked inside her when she saw two boys of about the same height step out of the classroom with their teacher. One of the boys had blue, clear eyes and the other’s eyes were partially hidden under a mop of dark brown hair.
Ah, punishment, she thought, and at that moment, the idea of punishment didn’t repulse her all that much.
The boys seemed to be enjoying getting punished as they pushed each other and laughed. The boys were so careless and carefree without a worry in the world. Grace remembered herself being in a similar situation once. Grace sighed and at that moment her false name was called. She looked at the giggling boys one last time and walked towards the secretary’s desk. She was made to sign in a diary and was given the permission to go in the principal’s office.
“Mr. Kourim, you will be coming in too, right?” she asked.
“Ah, of course, I will.” Mr. Kourim excused himself and said something to the secretary before walking in towards the principal’s office with Grace.
Grace pushed the wooden door and walked inside. There was a nameplate sitting on the large wooden desk that read: Mrs. West. Grace noticed that Mrs. West was a tall woman with auburn hair falling from the sides of her face. She was unusually pale, but had a pinkish glow in her cheeks. Her attire was formal and sophisticated; the striped skirt and the beige shirt suited her frame. She didn’t look more than thirty-five years of age and Grace wondered if she would be able to help her with what she needed to know. Mrs. West saw Grace looking at her blankly, and formally introduced herself as the new principal of the primary school.
“I was appointed as the principal about eight months ago,” she told Grace as they shook hands. She noticed Mr. Kourim standing behind Grace and apologized for not seeing him earlier. “I didn’t see you there, sir.”
“It’s all right, Mrs. West; you don’t need to be formal with me.”
He gave Mrs. West a toothy smile and Grace was amused at the familiarity of Mr. Kourim with almost everyone in the town. Mr. Kourim seemed to have sensed the thought in Grace’s mind. He was obviously enjoying all the attention he was getting.
“I saw Mrs. West grow up,” he told Grace. “She was a kid when she moved into this part of the town. She was just Dorothy back then. I am so proud to see her as the principal of this school now,” he said, but instantly added, “Mrs. West, I hope you didn’t mind me saying that, do you?”
“Of course I don’t mind, Mr. Kourim. I understand your friend June is a reporter. Our town could do with a little bit of news. Why don’t you sit down?” She motioned towards a chair in front of her table.
Grace adjusted herself comfortably in the chair and Mr. Kourim settled himself down beside her as well. A few minutes passed as Grace was busy gazing at the old pictures, trophies and mementos that decorated the room. The sun rays coming through the open window fell on the golden, silver and bronze medals and trophies that were placed in a glass cupboard on one side; it made them glow in their brightest shade. Mrs. West wasn’t in a particular rush and gave Grace enough time to look through everything. Grace acted very curious and Mrs. West seemed to be enjoying the attention that the office was getting.
“I redecorated the office,” she said with pride.
“It is very impressive and everything is placed in perfect order,” Grace
praised.
Then, she cleared her throat to signal that it was time to discuss more serious matters. Before she could continue, Mrs. West put up her index finger. It caught Grace off guard for a moment and it registered on her face.
“Why are you so curious about our town?”
Grace was taken aback by the word curious, so she repeated the question herself, “Why am I curious? I am only doing my job.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Mrs. West replied. “What I meant was what brings you here? There is hardly any news in this town and everybody is busy living their lives. We are just surprised to have you,” Mrs. West said.
“We,’’ Grace asked?
“Yes, I meant us,” the principal assured her. “I am surprised, Mr. Kourim is and so was Alexis. She is our secretary,” Mrs. West explained slowly, in case Grace missed anything.
Grace was a fine story teller and she was popular among her friends for her ability to make things up. She was able to take basic information and twist it, mold it and present it in a new form. Her skills at deception were so refined that people were often mistaken regarding what was real and what wasn’t. Grace prided herself for possessing that skill, even though it was slightly frowned upon by the general public. She told the most amazing stories and her friends and family were always engrossed by her tales. Today, her deceptive skills surely came in handy because she looked Mrs. West directly in the eyes and prepared to spin a fabulously tall tale.
“Every place has a story to tell,” began Grace, “and it hardly matters if it’s a posh city, a secluded village or a placid town. I have reported on many diverse places over a long period of time, Mrs. West. I have encountered stories that have moved me, stories that are both common and unusual, stories that have inspired me and stories that surprised me.” She nodded her head thoughtfully before continuing. “I think a small town is unique in its own way, and that’s what got me hooked on the idea of writing a story here.”
Grace noticed Mrs. West listening to her very attentively and knew that her story was sinking in. It worked so well because what she said was not completely untrue. From the moment she set foot in this low-key town, she felt that she was in a different time. The old motel surely irked her at first, but the more she saw the place, the more it enchanted her. She walked almost half-way across town asking people questions, and found that there was something about the people, the shops and the scenery that attracted her. Grace didn’t want to admit it at first, but when those words came out of her own mouth, she wasn’t completely lying. Then again, the best lies have a hint of truth for seasoning. This town provided her with a sense of calmness which she was deprived of in the city. The manufactured streets, the noise, the sky scrapers and the countless number of people in the city filled her with a feeling of confinement. She had wanted to break free for a long time, and now she was free again. Here she was standing in an unfamiliar place with foreign aromas and tastes alerting her senses. She was free from all the responsibilities, the duties and expectations she had to fulfill. This was a feeling she hadn't experienced in a long time.
Mrs. West was moved by what Grace said. There was a glimmer in her eyes that indicated that she was happy with Grace’s answer. “How can I help you?” Mrs. West asked. After a few questions, Grace directly asked if she knew about any students who had made it big in the city. “I am new here, but we do keep records and old photographs in our library. So if you care to have a look at them, then we might be able to help you. Are you looking for anyone in particular?” Mrs. West asked.
“In fact she is,” Mr. Kourim said, before Grace could offer her own explanation. “Show Mrs. West those pictures that you have with you.”
Grace didn’t want to show those pictures yet, but had to bring them forth prematurely. She wished Mr. Kourim hadn’t been so insistent. Grace took out those year book images and showed them to Mrs. West, but like she guessed, the principal was unable to recognize them.
“I am sorry, but who are they?” she asked.
Grace looked at Mr. Kourim with a sense of hopelessness in her eyes.
“They are students of this school,” Mr. Kourim put in.
Grace already knew that part and she wanted to know more.
“You just want to know about these people, but why them in particular?” Mrs. West asked.
“Not just them,” Grace heard herself say. “I wanted to interview the initial residents of this area. Besides Mr. Kourim, they are the only ones that I know of. The others I met are mostly new.” In spite of her story-telling skills, Grace doubted if this tale was going to be convincing enough.
Mrs. West’s expression reassured Grace that her story was believable. She let out a sigh of relief when Mrs. West got up from her chair and allowed Grace to visit the school library. She would have her chance to see if there were any details from the old school yearbooks as well. Meanwhile, Mrs. West would check to see if she could get her hands on the school photographs of past years.
Grace thanked Mrs. West emphatically and shook her hand. While going out of the room her eyes rested on a photograph that was posted on the newly painted blue walls. It was a picture of a man named Mr. Kourim. It was uncanny how he resembled Mr. Kourim sitting on the couch. For a brief moment, Grace’s eyes were transfixed on the photograph, and she tried to make sense of it.
Mr. Kourim answered the riddle himself. “That’s my uncle,” he said with pride. “He was the principal of this school for more than twenty-five years, before he passed away at the age of fifty-six. He made a fine teacher, I would say, and how I miss him.”
Mr. Kourim lamented for a moment, and then he directed his gaze to a couple of other photographs on the wall. They were all former principals of this school. Grace listened to Mr. Kourim’s stories about them with great concentration. The last photograph that was shown to her was that of Mr. Cooper. He was the principal right after Mr. Kourim.
“He never got to take our class, but last I heard he was strict and very particular about discipline,” Mr. Kourim explained. “He is old and extremely ailing these days, barely moves and mostly keeps to himself. Mr. Cooper stays with his nurse and pet parrot, Tony. Sad for an active and energetic man like him,” he reasoned. “I feel bad at times.”
Mr. Kourim ended his explanation and Grace nodded her head. She realized that if there was anyone who could provide more information on the Keaton siblings, it would be him. However, she didn’t inform them of what she planned to do. Instead, she just bided her time and hoped to make the most of the leeway she was already given. Grace saw one of the security guards enter the room, and Mrs. West instructed him to direct her towards the school library.
“You will find Miss Gable,” she told Grace. “She is the librarian at the front desk. Ask her anything you want and she’ll be able to help you. She can find any book for you, or the year books to be more precise.”
“Yes, thank you” Grace said, expressing her gratitude.
“My eldest son is a librarian, too, you know,” Mr. Kourim stated. “He works at a university nearby.”
“Oh, that’s interesting,” Grace replied as they walked down the hall.
She went along with the security guard towards the library without offering much conversation. The library, to her surprise, was much bigger and more organized than she had expected. Miss Gable was waiting at the front desk and immediately greeted Grace upon entering the library.
“Hello, Miss June, Mrs. West just informed me that you will be visiting our library. So what can I help you with?” the young librarian asked.
Miss Gable was a confident woman who was only in her late twenties; she was polished and finely dressed. Her desk was neat and there were piles of books, files and other essentials stocked on one side. What attracted Grace’s attention right away was an engraved plate in a wooden piece. The words of the inscription read: How does it end? Grace picked up the piece and tried to interpret the meaning behind it, but it didn’t make much sense to her. Grace looked at it, a
nd then looked questionably at the librarian.
“I’ve seen people favor quotes,” Grace began, “but never saw anyone keep something like this. What do you want to see the end of?”
“A lot of things, and some things in particular,” Miss Gable answered cryptically. She didn’t elaborate on it. She just opened her hand to direct Grace around the library.
Grace didn’t ask anything more about it either, but how she wanted to see the end of things herself. The quote distracted her momentarily, but she quickly remembered her reporter story and snapped out of it. She smiled at Miss Gable and asked her to direct her towards the section where the year books and school record books were kept.
“Section three, fourth row,” Miss Gable said quickly.
“What about the school news? Are there any compilations of them?” Grace asked.
“Only once in a while does our school generate great news,” the librarian explained, “when our students win at Spelling Bee, the local art competition or maybe their acts of bravery get noticed in the community. You will find everything in that section,” she said.
“Is there any news about former students who made it big around their time or maybe they’re known around here, even after they left?” Grace asked.
“How former are you talking about?” Miss Gable asked.
“I don’t know ... about thirty to thirty-five years back,” Grace said.
“I am not too sure about whom you’re referring to, but you will find all the information you are looking for in that section. I’m sure of that,” Miss Gable assured her. “Ask for any help and I will assist you.” Miss Gable was kind enough to mention where the nearby study tables were, as well.
“Thank you so much, Miss Gable. It is so kind of you.”
Grace went about looking for the year books and the news about this school. The year books were right on the third row. They were kept in neat and proper order according to the year. Grace was impressed by the organization of it all. She was sure Miss Gable had something to do with that. Grace started looking from the top row and went down to the last. She took out one or two of the books and flipped through their pages. Grace smiled at the photographs of happy toothy children. Some smiled while others made funny face. Some of their eyes were closed while others looked amused, but there was one thing in common … all of them looked cheerful and content. Grace remembered her school days when the photographs were taken and how she dressed neatly for that that day.
