Captive{ated}

Twenty-Four: Devoted

Over the next few weeks, I mentored under the school teacher Mr. Quinn, who was perhaps one of the kindest souls I had never met. He definitely was not who I was expecting when I first walked in to the single room school house.

Mr. Quinn was in his late 50's, his light brown hair was thinning at the top and he wore wire rimmed glasses. His warm brown eyes were surrounded by wrinkles caused from smiling. There was hardly a moment where the man didn't have the smallest upward curve on his lips, and around the children, it was biggest of all.

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Evelyn," he greeted my on my first day. Nervously, I shook his hand. I suppose in a way I expected him to be a ruthless schoolmaster in a place like this, but he was the opposite. From my very first moment with him, I felt welcomed. He showed me around the school house and explained what would be expected of me. Most importantly, though, he gave me insight on the kids. His expertise was the greatest tip he could ever give me, and working with him first hand was an experience that helped me settle in.

With coaxing from him, the children took a strong liking to me. They were all between the ages of 6 and 8, all bright eyed and ornery as you would expect kids that age to be. Their giggles filled the entire room, making my heart feel so light. When it wasn't time to work, they would tell me the strangest stories. Some were entirely fictional while others told me stories about an awesome toad they saw two weeks ago. I never quite knew what to expect next. Tabitha took an especially strong liking to me, her curly dark hair always held back in little pig tails.

By the end of my first day, which let out just before lunch so the children could run home to eat, I was exhausted. The 22 of them were hard to keep up with even with two adult figures. I couldn't imagine how Mr. Quinn managed to keep up with them all by himself.

We watched them all run off from the doorway, parting ways. It was weird seeing kids so little chase each other around without parental supervision, but I supposed that inside this fence, they were safer than the children in the Outside. Your father wasn't wrong about one thing.

The Outside could be a very cruel place, too.

"They're amazing little souls, aren't they?" Mr. Quinn asked me.

I could see why he smiled so much. Being around them brought me new life, and I felt a joy that I couldn't measure. One that I didn't think was possible here. "They truly are," I said softly in response.

He turned his full attention to me, chuckling, "You appear tired, Ms. Evelyn."

I laughed, nodding. "I must confess, I have no experience with kids this age," I confided to him. "I'm nervous about being the best I can for them."

His eyes widened. "If it's any consolation at all, you were a natural. I would've never guessed that this was you first time working with children so young."

Heat rose to my cheeks, "Thank you."

Mr. Quinn continued, "Kids can always tell if someone has their best interest at heart. As for you, they love you already."

Through Mr. Quinn during our down time, I began to see an entirely new side of the Village. Behind the grotesque and horrid religion that ruled it was a purity, an innocence. There was so much good. I saw it through the children, and more importantly, I saw it through him. He enjoyed talking about his life, and I always looked forward to hearing it.

He told me just about everything there was to know, from childhood to now. Fifty some years ago, he told me he met his wife in this very room. Luckily, he was the second son of his family, so he didn't have to find a wife from the Outside. "You didn't want to venture out and meet someone new?" I asked fascinated by the subject.