The next morning I awake to find Beth gone. I hurry and dress in my training outfit and look myself over in the mirror.
Movement out on the grounds catches my eye and I walk to the window to see a small gathering of adults out by the same toolshed Clara and I visited the night before. One of them wears similar clothing to mine, and upon closer inspection I recognize Chris.
The group talks as they look at the place where Clara threw our shirts. I can’t tell what’s being said until they begin to head back to the building.
I watch Clara’s mouth as she says, “. . . and her speed is” —Clara turns to the side and I lose her conversation until she faces forward again— “than any I’ve seen.” She moves out of sight.
My eyes move back to Chris, who still stands by the toolshed. He bends and picks up my shredded shirt, carefully folding the strips of cloth, and tucking them into his pocket before turning back toward the school.