her eyes went back to the printout in her hand. Nothing on it was printed in boldface. No item on the list of suggested topics stood out from the others. "I guess it's my eyes that have the problem,'" she said apologetically. "The topic just sort of jumped out at me. I could have sworn it was printed darker than the rest."
"Maybe it was the lighting," Mrs. Larkin suggested.
"Yes, I guess it must have been."
By now the rest of the students, Charlie included, had left the room, and she had lost her chance to ask him about his accident.
However, she did see him again at the end of the day, squatting by a floor-level locker, awkwardly trying to work the lock with one hand. It occurred to her that anyone standing over him could easily have learned the combination just by watching him. No wonder it had been so simple to plant a fish in his locker.
"Could you use some help?" Sarah asked, coming to stand next to him.
Charlie glanced up with a rueful smile. "Well, if it isn't the Gypsy lady! Thanks, but I've got to learn how to manage one-handed. It's going to be a while before I get rid of this hunk of plaster."
He gave the dial a final twist, and the metal loop popped open.
"There, I got it!" Charlie said with a note of triumph in his voice.
"I hear you fell on the steps the other night," Sarah said.
"I hold you responsible," Charlie said as he pulled the locker door open. "I got so pumped up by that business about the cruise ship that I thought I was diving into the ocean. It's the story of my life that there didn't happen to be water in it."
"How did you fall?" Sarah asked him.
"Like a ton of bricks."
"I mean, how did it happen?" Sarah prodded. "Did somebody trip you?"
Charlie turned to stare at her. "What makes you ask that?"
"I don't know. I mean, it seemed like a possibility—"
"Of course nobody tripped me," Charlie said quickly. "Why would anybody do that?" He turned back to the locker. "Actually I guess I do need some help with this. Do you think you could haul those library books out from under that heap of gym clothes?"
"Sure," Sarah said, dropping to her knees beside him. When she leaned into the locker, the stench of rotten fish almost bowled her over.
"I didn't get tripped," Charlie repeated, sounding almost defensive. "I stumbled over my two big feet. This isn't my lifetime to be coordinated. In my next incarnation I plan to be a graceful ballerina."
"Do you really believe in reincarnation?" Sarah asked him.
"It makes as much sense as anything," Charlie said. "Voltaire said, 'It's no more surprising to be born twice than to be born once.'"
"I never thought of it that way," Sarah said, surprised that the "class clown" would even know who Voltaire was. "It might be worth being born a second time to see you do a pirouette." She took out the books—and let out a groan at the sight of their tides.
"What's the matter?" Charlie asked her.
"They're all on the Salem witchcraft trials. Is that what you're going to do your report on?"
"I thought I would. It's more interesting than the other topics. I figured everybody else in the class would decide the same thing, so I hightailed it to the school library at lunchtime and grabbed up the only three books on the subject. Needless to say, our library is not exactly made for heavy research."
"Then that's it for me," Sarah said glumly. "I was also planning to do my paper on that subject."
"No problem," Charlie said. "You take one book home and read it, and I'll take the other two. Then we'll trade. Everybody else is out of luck."
He slammed the locker closed with his left hand and then attempted unsuccessfully to snap the lock back in place.
"Here, let me," Sarah said, reaching over and securing it. "Anything else I can do for you while I'm being useful?"
There was a long pause.
Then Charlie said tentatively, "How would you like to throw