Don't Fear the Reaper (The Indian Lake Trilogy, #2)

by Stephen Graham Jones

And, talking Jade: Mr. Holmes. Which is to say: teachers I’ve had. The first one to thank is from what should have been my senior year. I was seventeen, day one at another new school. Government class. This teacher walks in, cases the place, sets her books down on the desk, sighs, then zeroes in on me way in the back, in a way that I kind of feel my throat swell a bit, because she’s going to recognize me in some way, or’s going to introduce me all around, plug me into this new place, I don’t know, anything can happen, right? What she says once the room’s quieted down, though, is for me to get my greasy head off her clean chalkboard. I lean forward like she wants, everyone sneaking looks back to me, logging me as that kid, and, after class, I walk out this teacher’s door, down the hall, and out of high school forever. Which was wonderful research for writing Jade. So, thank you, government teacher. And, yes, I am that student who showed back up at the end of that semester to ace the final, just to prove to you I could, even if I was way past credit, or graduation. The next teacher is Dr. Jill Patterson. I’m a senior again, but this time at college, which I never even meant to go to—I’m meant to be driving tractor, chopping cotton. But, here I am in fiction workshop somehow, and I’m pretty much levitating in my seat, am reading everything I can get my hands on, and writing every minute of the day. I can’t get enough of books, of writers, of reading. This is a world I didn’t ...