“Kevin’s here already, so he can help you take down the chairs and clean the whiteboards,” said the teacher.
This was absolute stupidity on the teacher’s part, as Nona knew Kevin would not help take down the chairs nor clean the whiteboards, nor do anything but sit on the cushions where the stuffing was leaking out in drifts of off-white beads. Then the teacher said, unexpectedly: “Hot Sauce is here too.”
Not even the teacher knew Hot Sauce’s real name. Nona said, “That’s early.”
“Yes. I asked her why, but she wouldn’t say. Check on her, won’t you?” As though Nona could check on Hot Sauce. “I’m worried about her, living alone. I’ve tried to tell her about the sheltered accommodation, but she’s too independent…”
Nona was still laughing over the idea as she went into the classroom and started taking the chairs down off the desks. Kevin was, as she’d predicted, lying flat on one of the cushions doing something social and complex with two stuffed rodents; but there was Hot Sauce, feline and still next to one of the schoolhouse windows, her burns rippling neatly beneath the electric light when Nona turned it on.
“Turn it off,” said Hot Sauce, so of course Nona turned it off. “Come here.”
Nona took the plastic, chlorine-smelling box of whiteboards and the rag and the spray bottle with her, and she squatted down next to Hot Sauce, wetting the rag with the stuff in the spray bottle. Hot Sauce said, “Don’t let them see you from the window.”
“Who’s watching?”
“Don’t know. Green building. Fourth floor.”
Nona was smart enough to catch herself getting up to look, which she privately congratulated herself upon. She placed the cleanly scrubbed white square on the threadbare carpet, which also smelled like chlorine, and started on the second. She remembered about Blood of Eden and all the talking, and it gave her a sudden worry. She said, “Do you think they’re watching me?”
At least Hot Sauce took her seriously. She went hmm, which was how you could tell. “Why would they be watching you?”
“I don’t know.”
“They were here before you. So. Doubt it.”
Nona said, “Who are they?”
Hot Sauce didn’t say anything for the longest time. Then she said, “I’m investigating.”
Once Hot Sauce said that she would do something, all you could do was wait for Hot Sauce to do it. She would not invite you to help, or ask your opinion. Hot Sauce’s failure to ask anyone’s opinion on anything she did was probably the reason she was the unquestioned authority in the school, over and above the teachers. Nona had told Palamedes about it and Palamedes had said, Lead researcher material, certainly. So now there was nothing for Nona to do but clean off all the whiteboards and lug the box of them over by Kevin, and when invited examine the silent discourse between the stuffed rodents, which was conveyed by mashing them together. Nona searched for the right words and said, “They’re having a baby, aren’t they?” and Kevin seemed pleased.
By the time the whiteboards were cleaned and all the chairs were taken down and Nona had emptied the bins, most of the other children had streamed into the classroom. They all sat at their tables, with Nona at a special table at the back for her and any of the smallest children who were feeling wet or vulnerable and wanted to sit in her comforting presence. This morning Nona was left alone, which she liked; Hot Sauce had put the wind up her. She listened with only one ear to the teacher taking the morning roll call, and she took the whiteboard she was allowed to use and drew squiggles on it with only half her brain. The other half of her brain was plagued with questions.
Who is watching the classroom from the green building?
How will Hot Sauce investigate?
Then her mind wandered.
What will Pyrrha check out for Camilla today?
Why is the seat such a nutritious part?
Who am I?
So her drawing wasn’t much good, and was further harmed midway through the lesson, when the teacher was taking Honesty and Hot Sauce and Born in the Morning for integers while the nursery class copied things down off the board. One of the tinies who didn’t like going to the bathroom alone tugged on Nona’s sleeve, so she ended up standing in front of the cubicle lost in thought, and then she got distracted looking at herself in the mirror. It was such a relief to be pretty, and to have the braids that Pyrrha had given her look so dark and juicy and glossy. Cam said her hair was drying up and she had white spots on her nails, but Nona couldn’t see it. When the tiny emerged from the toilet Nona helped it wash its hands and return promptly to the numbers on the board, and by then the Angel had arrived.