Free Stand Alone by P.D. Workman Page A

please remove yourself so I can continue with the lesson.”
    Justine shook her head.
    “My name is Katie,” she repeated, a catch in her voice. She was desperate for him to believe it, and let her stay.
    “Whoever you are, please leave.”
    “No    …”
    “Yes. Now. Go,” he spoke firmly. He wasn’t fooled.
    Justine finally stood up, looking around, at a loss as to what to do next.
    “Get on, then,” Mr. Potter repeated, shooing her with his hands.
    Justine picked up her books, and left the room. She went downstairs to the office and tried again.
    “I’m new here,” she said, “I’m supposed to meet with Mr. Brooks?”
    “Sure,” the student receptionist said. “What’s your name?”
    “Katie. Um, Katie Kerr.”
    “Great. I’ll let him know you’re here.”
    Justine sat in a chair waiting. She stared up at the ceiling, bored. Eventually, Mr. Brooks came into the waiting area and nodded to her. A short, balding man with a perpetual smile.
    “Katie Kerr?” he questioned, holding out his hand to shake hers.
    Justine shook hands, smiling widely at him.
    “I’m a new transfer student,” she told him. “They said that you were expecting me.”
    Mr. Brooks raised his eyebrows in surprise.
    “Uh, yes,” he said, “I    …   didn’t realize that was today. I’m not sure where the paperwork is    …”
    He led her back into his office, a close room, barely big enough to fit his desk and a visitor chair. In spite of being crowded, he also had a plant, a small tree that infringed on the visitor’s chair. Justine brushed it as she sat down, pushing leaves out of the way. Mr. Brooks sat down in his swivel chair, fidgeting with a button on his shirt.
    “So remind me,” he suggested, “where is it you are coming from?”
    “Lincoln,” Justine invented, blinking as if she expected him to remember.
    “Ah, yes, Lincoln.”
    He studied her, his smile wavering a little.
    “Did we meet before?” he queried uncertainly.
    “No,” Justine used both hands to adjust her cap, hoping to keep him from recognizing him.
    “Well, we’ll just fill out a new transfer form, request your old records,” Mr. Brooks said brightly, digging in the drawer of his desk for the appropriate form. “What were you taking over at Lincoln?”
    He looked up at her questioningly, and did a double-take. Justine saw recognition enter his eyes.
    “Justine.”
    “What?” Justine looked behind her. “Who?”
    “You’re Justine. Just what are you trying to pull, here?”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” Justine said politely.
    “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but it stops now. I don’t have the time for this. Go to your class.”
    Justine didn’t move.
    “I need your help,” she pleaded.
    “You need my help with what? With registering?” he threw the ruined form on the desk in disgust. “What’s this all about?”
    “Mr. Brooks    …   I’m really not Justine,” she said desperately. She pulled the photos out of her pocket. “Look. Look at this. These are pictures of the real Justine. The real Justine Bywater, when she was a baby. Look at her. That’s not me, is it?”
    Brows drawn down, Mr. Brooks looked at the baby and toddler photos, and back up at Justine.
    “Little girl. Dark hair, blue eyes,” he said. “Looks like you.”
    “But that’s not me! Can’t you see it? The shape of the face, the eyes, it’s not the same, is it?”
    He pushed the photos back at her.
    “I don’t know,” he said irritably, shaking his head. “I think all babies look the same, if you ask me. All like Mr. Magoo. Everybody’s face changes shape as they get older.”
    “How about the ears?” Justine persisted, pushing the baby picture back toward him. “They say that your ears never change shape. Look at baby Justine’s ear in that picture, and look at mine.”
    Justine took off her cap and pushed her hair away from her ear, turning it toward him.
    “See, look?