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She silently willed him to stop his pacing, to calm down. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. Having seen him heavily ironed, and placed in the Condemned Hold, Jonathan recrossed the street. She would always be waiting upon this boy, he mused. It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical. ” He looked into her pale blue eyes. “I have nothing to say to you.

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