Handcuffed

Spider Crushing

The play was looming, and the finals were terribly grueling, but Shirley managed to keep her head on straight. Every once in a while she would take out the gift Steven and Laura had given her and wondered where they ended up. The shine had dulled which Shirley suspected might be to her advantage, though she wasn't completely sure if she would end up using it the way she had begun to imagine. Of course it would be nice to handcuff certain people, but she was sure it wasn't going to happen easily.

She was sure showdown wasn't going to be before the play. The Dean was counting too heavily on the money it was going to bring in, and without giving herself too much credit, she knew the play would not be what it was made out to be without her.

Mori was on hold. "Not that I am not sure about anything or I have to think our relationship over," she had told him, "rather I need the time to concentrate all my efforts on the play." She even shunned his helping her prepare for the play. "It is getting too hard for me to get any work done with you around," she told him, "I keep getting distracted by thinking about you." Her real reason was the less she had to see him the easier it was on her frightened nerves. She had seen enough to know he was a danger to her as much as The Dean was.

It was a warm and sunny spring Friday that Shirley found herself alone with Ms. Barker checking over all the plants in the garden. Carlos had been there too, but didn't stay as long as the women. Ms. Barker had asked in class if anyone had time to help her for an hour or two that afternoon, and Shirley was the only one to last the full two hours. She was hot and sweaty by the time they marked down everything Carlos needed to fix.

"Why don't you join me for a cool drink," Ms. Barker invited Shirley when they started walking out of the garden.

Shirley knew better then to pass up an invitation from Ms. Barker, besides, she wanted to know what Godfrey had found with the licenses plate number.

"You can wash your hands in the kitchenette sink, while I do the same in the bathroom," Ms. Barker told her while sliding an unsealed unmarked envelope across the counter towards Shirley and holding out three fingers for Shirley to see. Shirley recognized Godfrey's handwriting. She laid out the letter on the counter next to the sink, ran the warm water, took some liquid soap, and began washing and reading.

A staunch solid good-Samaritan standing by called for help in needy fashion, a true blue reckless public transportation driver. Your sum of digits you sent are far from perfect. It was badly needed for a fixing. His brand spanking new superb smiling helper just arrived from the warm south (no snow) came the time after we brought new start of year. He finds it is just like being unequivocally thoroughly questioned carefully trying for useful intelligent information. Maybe while playing we want and can heartlessly painfully crush and grind a vicious stinging spider.

"What is he talking about," Shirley thought. Then it hit her. Ms. Barker had shown her three fingers. When she finished reading it again, she smiled to herself.

"So Hit is the name and hit was the game. And would this really come back to haunt The Dean. I guess we shall have to wait and see," she smilingly thought to herself.

"Lemonade, iced tea, juice, or water," Ms. Barker asked her while pouring herself a cup of iced tea while nodding at the letter.

"Iced tea is fine," she answered nonchalantly pushing the letter back to Ms. Barker.

They sat down to drinks and make small talk, while Ms. Barker was writing something on the bottom of the paper. What does it mean?

Shirley smiled and began pointing at every third word.

A Good Samaritan called in a reckless driver. Your digits are perfect. It needed fixing. His new helper from south came after New Year. He is being questioned for information. Maybe we can crush a spider.