[Sports / physical activity] The school day was almost unbearable this year. She knew it was all in her perspective, and she tried to keep that in mind, but classes seemed dull compared to her own research. Sports were the worst for her. They'd never interested her most times anyway, but now, she'd rather be anywhere than on the field, hustling in the cold drizzle and trying to impress the coach enough for a spot on the teams. Today she decided she just couldn't, and slipped off to her truck and parked at the edge of the school property where it butted up to the forest. She figured a short walk in the woods might clear her brain. The truck sputtered to a halt, and she looked to make sure that none of her classmates had picked up that she was only a hundred yards away. They were all focused on dribbling a ball back and forth across the wet field, sliding in the mud. [ Daydreaming ] She stepped into the woods and immediately felt the cold chill, the mist swirling around the base of the trees, and the wet smell of mushrooms growing and oak leaves rotting on the ground. The sounds of the game played on the field were muted and she sighed in relief. She found a narrow trail and started walking, setting her own pace and trying to forget the frustration of the day. It didn't take long. The woods were an entirely separate place than the school, she felt, and even if she was close by, nobody was going to find her here. She let her mind wander, trying to decide what to do with what she'd found. With no warning, she slipped on the trail, mud under leaves lying hidden. She shrieked and slid, further than she thought possible, and ended up laying back down in a small creek. A crackle and shake of the underbrush and there, standing over her was a man with a walking stick and a huge bushy beard. "You alright?" She blinked a few times, and stood, uselessly trying to brush the mud off of her like it was dirt. "I think so..." The man looked wild, flannel shirt, hunting cap, wooly beard, and after she caught her breath, she found herself laughing at the caricature of a cartoon hunter in front of her. [ a picture of a woman on a bike taxi, cutting loose ] The man laughs with her. "That happens to me at least once a year, until I remember that it's slippery underneath. That spot in particular has had me twice. Come with me, my cabin's just a short walk, you can get dried off." "Thanks." She's nervous, suddenly, all too aware that he's three times her size, a huge man, but she follows him anyway. She feels her muddy pants clung to her and sighs as water dribbles down her body. The cabin comes into view just a curve in the path later. "Come on in. It's not actually as rustic as it looks." The cabin is clean inside, and modern. Steel appliances and carefully set lighting. He winks at her. "Surprise. There's a shower in the bathroom", he says while pointing, "and I think there's some spare clothes around here about your size. I'll set them inside the door." Warm clean water is a relief. She hears the click of the door as he leaves clothes for her, and sees just a hand slip through the crack in the door. "Thank you." The clothes do fit, simple hiking clothes, practical and light. She steps into the main room of the cabin again and the man steps out to greet her again. "I'm Alan. Make yourself comfortable if you like." She shrugs nervously and paces past the bookshelves that line the walls. Neat, leather-bound volumes of classic literature fill several shelves, and there's a clump of textbooks at the bottom. Alan watches her as she rests her fingers on various titles. "I'm a professor, actually. I get some time off each year and spend it out here. I'm out here alone this year" "I wondered why you had clothes my size" "My girlfriend left them last year. She doesn't care much for the woods or the quiet here. Or me much, either." He looked sheepish. [ He just couldn't get past... ] She laughed a bit. "Girls are crazy" she said "What do you teach?" "History for money, literary history for fun." Alan didn't look so big and scary without the huge plaid jacket and cap. A bit less like a lumberjack with an axe to grind, and more like the professor she now knew him to be. "What brings you walking through this corner of the woods?" "Escaping school. Escaping sports." "I'd offer you a drink to toast that, but you're obviously too young." She laughed again. "Thank you. I hate school this year. I've got other things I'd rather learn, my classes are boring, sports are a waste of time. I'd rather hike and do research." "Research on what?" "I ... well..." She proceeded to tell him the whole story, from finding names carved into the walls of the hidden room in her house, to discovering that the prior owner of the house was not the simple farmer she kept up the appearance of, and the mysterious load of posessions locked up in the storage shed on the back side of the farm. "Sounds like you found yourself in the middle of every bit of interesting world history this century." "I think so. . . " "Do you have to be home any time soon?" "My aunt never did say if she cared. My mother certainly doesn't." "Alright then. Feel free to stay." They talked for hours, and Alan made dinner. Surprisingly good, made from modest ingredients. Better than her Aunt's cooking, anyway, or maybe the company helped. The sun set, the cold grey fading into a cold blackness. "I should probably go home" she said. "Alright. I'll walk with you if you like." She smiled. "Sure" They trekked back to her truck, and she got ready to leave. The starter only made a heavy click, and there was no other sound. She stepped out again, and saw Alan waiting at the edge of the woods. "Problem?" "It won't start." "Oh no! Let me take you home." "I can call for my aunt..." "No need. It's just up ahead." They walked through the edge of the woods, and his car was parked neatly out of the way off the road. He drove her to the farm, and let her out at the mailbox. Her aunt and mother were standing on the front porch and she knew something wasn't right the moment she saw them. Her aunt looked at her disapprovingly, holding her wooden spoon against her arm as she stood there, arms crossed. It was her mother who spoke first. "How dare you stay out. With a boy. I can't believe the nerve of you." Her aunt nodded in agreement, a silent partner ganging up on her with her mother. "Who was he?" "Where is your truck?" They both started throwing questions, and she couldn't answer them fast enough. "You are not going out again. If I see him again, I am going to..." Her aunt trailed off. "You will be home right after school, every day, young lady. I don't care if it kills you." Her mother looked bitter, even more than angry. She was practically in tears, and by the time she got to her room, her face was wet. She slept fitfully that night, and at breakfast before school, her aunt and her mother were like twin gargoyles, silent and glaring. Classes dragged on forever. After lunch, she slipped into her history class, and the teacher handed her a note. "You're excused." The note read: "I request Jamie's assistance with a long-term research project. I will arrange for her to get credit for her classes. Alan Black Professor Emeritus of History University of Washington"