Free Between the Notes by Sharon Huss Roat Page A

by the time we were done. Mr. Eli made one more attempt to get James to recite, but he politely declined.
    And when class was over, I darted. I didn’t want James to mention the bike, the bushes, or the bugs in front of Reesa. Shewouldn’t understand why I was keeping secrets from her. I didn’t understand it myself, except it was all so embarrassing.
    As soon as I reached my locker, I realized I’d forgotten my hoodie. I quickly swapped my English book for chemistry and hurried back, hoping Mr. Eli hadn’t left for his free period yet.
    I was relieved to find the door ajar. But someone was in there with him, so I hesitated before waltzing in.
    “. . . smale foweles maken melodye, that slepen al the nyght with open ye . . .”
    It was a deep, rich voice that managed to put feeling into the words that had lost all meaning coming out of the rest of our mouths. I listened as if transported to fourteenth-century England, where my now-favorite poet was whispering the melodious verses into my ear.
    “. . . The hooly blisful martir for to seke, that hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.”
    When the poem ended, a shiver shot down my spine, jarring me back to the present. I peeked through the narrow slit but could see only Mr. Eli, tilting back in his desk chair.
    “Excellent,” he said, looking more than a little astonished. “I wonder why you didn’t want to do it for the class.”
    James?
    “I don’t know. Nervous, I guess. I’m not very good at public speaking.”
    “Our Shakespeare section should help with that. We’ll be reading from various plays,” said Mr. Eli. “If you want fullcredit, I’ll expect you to participate.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    The warning bell for second period rang and I didn’t want to be late. But I didn’t want James to think I was stalking him, either. My hand was poised over the door handle when he pulled it inward. He caught me in an awkward, about-to-steal-a-cookie pose.
    “Oh, hi,” I squeaked, sounding like a helium addict. I withdrew my fingers from the handle and we did a little you-first, no-you-first dance in the doorway.
    He laughed and stepped aside. “After you.”
    “I, uh, forgot my jacket.” I pointed to where it was draped over the back of my chair.
    He took three long strides back to my desk and snatched it up, and then held it out by the shoulders to help me put it on.
    Mr. Eli cleared his throat. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? I know I do.”
    The bell rang for second period. “Can I get a pass?” I asked Mr. Eli.
    He nodded and I went to his desk. When I looked back at the door, James was gone. Mr. Eli scribbled out a pass for me and I hurried off. The hall was empty, except for a lone figure approaching the far end, messenger bag slung over his shoulder and a huge book under the other arm. I watched as he opened a door near the stairs and slipped inside.
    Though chemistry was in the opposite direction, I followedthe path James had taken to see which class he was in. But when I arrived at the door I was certain he’d entered, it wasn’t a classroom. It was the same unmarked door that led to my secret room. I put my hand on the knob and turned.
    It was locked.

TEN
    W hen I returned to the supply room at the end of the day to wait out the after-school rush, the door was unlocked. It hadn’t occurred to me to lock it before, but James had done it, so I pressed the button to make sure nobody walked in on me. Then I quickly found my way to the secret room and switched on the lamp.
    Everything was just as I’d left it, but my tattered copy of The Great Gatsby was no longer the only item on the shelf. It was now dwarfed by a three-inch-thick hardbound book. I pulled it down to read the cover: The Complete Works of William Shakespeare.
    Not my first choice of reading material. But James was proving to be not-your-average cute boy. I sat and thumbed through the book. Almost every page had something highlighted, with notes scribbled in the margin. Words