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"You and I are used to dealing with mysteries that live on the page."
"There are no bad guys. There are just complicated people who did bad things."
"I've got enough crime fact in my life. I don't need to read about it."
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When c...
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Alex leaned against Professor Jackson's desk, observing the class with a keen eye. She ran her hand along the emerald green sleeve of her blazer. Our class was sitting, waiting for her to speak.
Somehow, President Price accepted Alex to student teach one of her own classes while our professor grew accustomed to her new duties as Chair of the English Department. Those duties had been thrust upon her after Tony Collis' death, so she wasn't trained and had to figure things out on her own. Allowing Alex to sub for her was the perfect solution.
With a grunt of consternation, my friend pushed herself off of the desk and paced towards the other side of the room. She smirked at one of her 'pupils,' who was enjoying a hearty lunch of tuna salad and an apple. Jake was constantly eating - in class, where no food was permitted. She made a point of stopping in front of his desk for a few seconds, ignoring him before coming back. "The great mystery writers are much like magicians," she began, coming to a stop in the same spot that she had been in. She leaned on the desk. "What do I mean by that?"
Allegra - who was surprisingly back in class today - raised her perfectly manicured hand and smiled at Alex. She seems to be moving on a little.
With a permissive point of her finger, Alex allowed her to answer. Shrugging, Allegra sat back in her seat. "They use misdirection."
A nod and grin from Alex told us that she was right. Her hand, which had been pointing at Allegra, began to move of its own accord, dancing about in the air. "What's misdirection?" the student teacher inquired. Her hand never rested, still waving about. "It's kind of like this right now," she explained, somehow answering her own question. "I've got you guys all paying attention to my right hand because it's doing something crazy over here," she clarified, barley sitting on the desk, "so much so that you don't pay any attention to what I'm doing with my left." With that, she pulled out Jake's apple from behind her back and tossed it in the air.
Catching it smoothly, she winked at the victim of her larson. He only grinned, shaking his head to show that he was oblivious to her actions all along. Our class chuckled.
"But the second time you see the trick, you start to understand what the magician is doing," she observed, moving her hands in circular motions. I took copious notes. "And that's what I tell everyone I give a novel to. I say that when your near the end, always go back to the begin..."
She trailed off, her eyes going wide as she pieced something together in her mind. Anyone who knows Alex knows that you don't ask her what she's thinking while she's thinking it; you simply wait for things to happen.
"Always go back to the beginning," she whispered as if it were the most obvious - and yet the most mysterious - statement ever made. Suddenly, she was in action; tossing me the apple. "Zach, take over," she called as I caught it; grabbing up her purse, phone, and books before rushing out of the classroom - giving me no time to protest.
