I realized only yesterday that I left the story of Kerwin‘s ostracism unfinished. When I left off, I had just–whoops!–Mary had just walked into the front room of the library and found Kerwin sitting beside the door, where she had left him over a half-hour before.
He looked a little pale.
Mary felt a little surprised.
She had escorted the rest of his class out the library’s back door, as she did every week, and had forgotten Kerwin wasn’t with them. His teacher was no doubt wondering where he was.
“Kerwin, what are you doing there?” she said.
“You told me not to move.”
He was correct. That’s what Mary had said. It hadn’t occurred to her that he would take the instruction so literally.
“All right, Kerwin, go on back to class.”
Color returning to his cheeks, he jumped from the chair and shot out the door.
Mary packed up and walked back to the high school library, where she officed.
I regret the story ends so anticlimactically. For literary purposes, I wish it had a dramatic ending.
If I were writing fiction, I’d have stopped with Part II. But I wanted to make clear that everyone survived intact.
I’m sure I’m the only one involved who remembers.