Miss Pim/Another, another story

Returning to the old school brought up old memories again 

It had been when Diandra had been student teaching. Before she had decided to become a student counselor. She had been forced to study abroad due to her family’s circumstances at the time; her father was an American diplomat and he had been caught up in politics that required caution. So she had to remain near her father for protection by the secret service as she attended university.

But how she wound up doing her internship at a school deep in the center of a society beyond her experience; the English Midlands; was quite the mystery. Then—just on her way to her higher degrees in what later became her field due to ….an encounter with one particular student. 

He was a boy at the school who was always getting into fights even though he was a very bright student. And she had become somehow drawn into the case. They wanted to take him up on charges over something —only, what was it, again? She didn’t remember….one day she decided instead of forcing a confrontation with him about the incidences that had everyone so upset about, she shared with him some drawings she had been working on for an idea for a comic book. And somehow it took another turn 

How old would he be now? She wondered. 

What was his name again? 

Diandra was only back in the area because an old friend of hers from school was getting married and she had been invited. Exploring recent news about the old school through the internet and social media, she had read that the old headmaster of the school had retired and, based on the photos on the website page, there was some big event made of it. Memories of the headmaster had managed to trigger other old memories she had long buried 

****

She found herself going back to some old familiar places on foot, remembering all the old pathways intuitively as her pace fell into her usual pattern and so, outside the school, down the road, was one spot of particular memory.  

It was a grey, wintry day but Diandra’s eyes swept the vista and they fell, by memory, to the very spot of the swings …. there….there it was…. 

and, 

“there,” she said aloud 

But then there was a sound, like a scrape of a shoe behind her before,

“I knew somehow that you would be back….”

the voice —was ….

“Greg….” she turned around 

“Miss Pim.”