"Ms. Tumolo," my employer said, "this question is up to you. Would you prefer to hear the explanation yourself, and then share it with your class, or would you like for them to hear it with you?"
The teacher looked around. "I think that should be up to them."
A few minutes before, Roger had become sullen and unresponsive when it had become apparent that he couldn't escape. The nurse had taken him into another room to examine him. There was a possibility that I had dislocated his shoulder, plus he had a couple of deep scratches on his face from when I had used him as a shield against Carol.
She had been the attacker I had seen out of the corner of my eye, coming to Roger's defense. She had burst into tears when she had realized that the only tangible result of her move to assist Roger was that she herself had injured him. But then she had rallied, with some encouragement from Ms. Tumolo, and she had helped the nurse get Roger out of the room.
So, we were sitting around the table again. Jan, Ms. Tumolo, David, Willy, James, Amy, Pete, Daphne, and me. When Ms. Tumolo asked her question, David made a motion of checking his (nonexistent) wristwatch and said, "I think I have a class to teach in a few minutes. If you'll excuse me."
He got up and left, followed by Willy who made a muttered, but heartfelt, declaration that he needed a cigarette.
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