March 1981
"Well today we learn about Ahab and Jezebel..." starts Mrs. Alberta King, legendary Sunday School artist-in-residence, at a table shared with a motley assortment of four third-graders, separated by a wheeled chalkboard from the fourth-graders.
Nick thinks of the Ray Stevens classic Ahab the A-rab but doesn't bite, he'd already gone down that road with his mom and got lectured in the car, although Ned had even chimed in before she got upset. Across the table sits the reserved and shy visiting granddaughter of some regulars, the fair brown-haired April, who keeps her eyes on the teacher as much as possible. Not surprisingly, to her right gleams the equally un-shy Juan Marin who had already introduced himself to their visitor. In response, April blushed while still staring at the teacher, who had already made the expected observation, "it's almost your month, dear!"
Rounding out the group is another regular, Steve Guy, tall, lanky, big ears and sometimes brought his latest completed model car or airplane in to show off; a respectable hobby Nick could never remember to pick up among his usual preoccupations.
Today our hero settles into the usual routine of staring at the wall, and then the table, thankfully Betty's not one of those who craves eye contact to imply attention. The adults call their teacher Betty but this is a gray area for kids so Nick always avoided addressing her.
He's not feeling the best, felt little swirls of chills ever since he got up and wanted to go back to bed more than usual this morning. While staring blindly between the coeds across the table he subconsciously wonders if April's concentration is deliberate or a shyness thing, when something stirred deep within, alas, something wanted out the back door.
This is an unusual dilemma in such a situation, hopefully just gas and nothing more, this is no time for theatrics, just...easy...easy...it floats on out and he nods down to sample the wares for good measure, should be nothing more than breakfast making its rounds.
The next breath proves otherwise. This is not good. Another breath.
Have mercy.
His chills start to mingle with a bit of heat in the chest and ears.
Just to gauge the room a little he casually glances back up at the same wall. April's face is slightly red again.
The aroma has gotten stronger after mixing with air, with a disturbing edge, a smoldering tire fire at the upwind side of town as the breeze picks up. After Nick takes a couple more disparaging breaths Betty pauses, then interjects,
"Does anyone need to use the restroom?"
After another pregnant pause, Jose pipes up, "I think someone already did, geez louise."
"Before I continue, does anyone have a...situation?"
April's face is deepening in hue, eyes are concerned, maybe fearful? Yet unwavering.
Jose, who shows up because he wants to and always by himself, "Mizz King we need to pray for whoever crapped 'em."
Nick can only put his forehead on the table and give in to laughter, he can hear Steve start to chuckle, and showing a new side, quickly throws in,
"C'mon Nick did you do that?"
Without thinking, he blurts out "Well it sure ain't the new girl."
Betty steps in, probably a tad fazed at where this has gone, "BOYS! Is this any way to treat a visitor? Alright, if we can continue on..."
Like a pro, within a couple sentences she resumes the same cadence as the chuckles fade. Nick gets courage to glance up to survey April's face, nearly back to a normal tone but with an expression that echoes how badly they all just want to get out of here. Otherwise, he keeps his head down through the closing prayer.
In the service, just before the offering gets passed Nick spikes a fever and so they go home early, he spends the next two days home from school reflecting on it all and never brings it up.
In coming weeks, after the high alert of the Hinkley shootings dies off a bit, he realizes that poor April's grandparents hadn't been around much ever since that fateful morning.