The Library

Fourth Story

"Ok, class, remember what we talked about, everybody must stay together now, we're going to visit the archeological dig, you can take pictures for your scrapbook but always stay on the path," Mr. Deerfield raised his voice above the unruly group who moved around him, agitated, like a tiny Lilliputian army.

'Breathe, man,' he told himself, already baking in the unforgiving desert sun. 'Just breathe. We're all going to be fine. All you need to do today is bring all the kiddos back home in one piece. She's crazy, and she's going to end us all one day,' he directed a sharp arrow of bitterness in the school principal's direction, the daring spirit who saw fit, in her infinite wisdom, to send him to this devil's armpit with eighteen nine-year-olds in tow to gawk at rocks.

"Jack, are you listening?" he raised his voice a bit more to impress on the habitually hyperactive youngster the importance of paying attention to his words.

The latter looked at him, distracted, making perfectly clear to the teacher his words were wasted on the wind.

The kid had this nonchalant attitude, which, mixed with a natural, casual elegance and a penchant for trouble, always made Mr. Deerfield think of James Bond. Mr. 007 was a handful, that's for sure.

'Oh, God,' the latter sighed, 'if there ever was a time to seek providential help... Breathe, just breathe, we're going to be fine, I'm fine, they're fine, we're all fine.'

As if prompted, the little crowd dispersed in all directions, in ways which made it impossible for him to control, and the teacher's anxiety turned to despair.

They crawled and jumped around the old rocks, ignoring any calls for caution or cohesiveness, alone or in groups of two or three, according to their friendships and interests.

"Gwen," Jack whispered from behind a large boulder. His voice sounded eerie, carried by the wind away from his presence, in almost ventriloquist fashion. "Gwen, come over here. You wouldn't believe what I found!"

The girl went after him eagerly, since he was the ringleader in all the fun games, and whatever he had found there was definitely worth seeing.

Past the boulder she was met by the most incredible sight: people in funny looking clothes were chatting and digging and carrying wheelbarrows full of dirt, which they carefully sifted through large flat sieves, excited to find bits and pieces of broken treasure.

"Told you," Jack whispered, excited. "And they said this dig had been abandoned ten years ago! You can never believe the grown-ups!"

"We have to tell Mr. Deerfield," Gwen turned around, despite Jacks' protests, and was stopped in her tracks when he went suddenly quiet. When she turned around, he wasn't there.

She moved a little closer to the dig, sure he went there without permission, wondering if she should tell on him and deciding against it, when a bearded man, covered in sweat and dirt from head to toe in the middle of a trench looked at her as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Gwen! Gwen, is that you?" He rushed up the hill towards her, and Gwen got scared, how many times had she been warned about strangers approaching her when she was alone, and this desert encounter checked all the boxes on her danger sheet, so she ran back to her class, to get help from the teacher.

"Mr. Deerfield! Jack and I found a team of people working on the dig. They're right behind that boulder and Jack must be with them. Can you please come with me so we can find him?"

"Gwen, come here."

"But Mr. Deerfield!"

"Sit down, please."

She reluctantly obeyed and sat on a flat rock that was right next to her.

"How many times did we talk about the fact it's not ok to make up and talk about things that aren't real?"