An Apple for the Creature

“You’ve made friends,” he said. “You will be worried about them.” He let go of the branch and walked away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Julie Olsen.”

“Maybe!” I called. “I haven’t decided yet!”

He kept walking.

I sat under the apple tree. Somehow leaving Ashlyn and Brook to his tender mercy didn’t give me a warm and fuzzy feeling.

I was pretty sure I could get admitted into this school. It wouldn’t be that hard.

I was right. Kate had set me up.

But then again, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.

An Introduction to Jewish Myth and Mysticism STEVE HOCKENSMITH

Steve Hockensmith is the author of the New York Times bestseller Pride and Prejudice and Zombies: Dawn of the Dreadfuls. His first novel, the mystery/Western hybrid Holmes on the Range, was a finalist for the Edgar^®, Shamus, Anthony, and Dilys awards and spawned several sequels. His next novel, an occult-themed mystery, will be released in 2013. He is a Waspy Midwestern goy but hopes that’s not too obvious when you’re reading his contribution to this anthology.

FRIDAY, 9:47 A.M.

Everyone in the class noticed the woman come in. They would’ve noticed a gnat flying in. Room 202 wasn’t particularly big and it wasn’t particularly full.

The woman took a seat at the back and quietly began to cry.

Professor Abrams went on lecturing in the slow, deliberate, deadpan way that made it so hard for undergrads to drag themselves out of bed for History 340: An Introduction to Jewish Myth and Mysticism. But a little worry-furrow creased his forehead even as he droned on about the Golem of Prague and its influence on later stories of Jewish übermenschen.

For once, he ended class early—at 9:49 as opposed to 9:50. Then he walked to the back of the room and sat next to the woman. She was fortyish, with short, black hair salted gray here and there. Her cat-eye glasses were perched on a button nose speckled with faded freckles.

Some of the students knew her. Professor Mossler. Her class on Hollywood during the Depression was a lot more popular than anything Professor Abrams ever taught.

“Karen,” Abrams said, “what’s wrong?”

Mossler stole an embarrassed glance at the students filing from the room.

“Robert’s back,” she whispered. She began wiping the tears from her red, puffy eyes. “Cynthia saw him moving things into his house this morning.”

“Oh.” A flush of color came to Abrams’s already swarthy face, and when he spoke again his words had something they usually lacked: emotion. “I’m so sorry, Karen. Have you called the police?”

“You know what they’ll say. As long as he stays away from me, there’s nothing they can do. And when he finally decides not to stay away . . .” Fresh tears trickled over Mossler’s cheeks. “What do I do? Things can’t go back to the way they were. I can’t live like that. If he won’t leave, I’ll have to. I’ll have to give up everything I’ve worked for and pack up and—”

“It won’t come to that.”

“How do you know? How can you say what might happen this time?”

Abrams drew in a deep, deep breath, as if trying to suck in enough air to last him the rest of his life. When he exhaled, there was a smile on his face. It was a “C’est la vie” smile—small, sad, resigned.

“Tell you what,” Abrams said. “You already had plans to see Wally and Leslie this weekend. Go. Enjoy. Forget Robert. When you get back, maybe things will look different.”

“That’s your advice? Go on a road trip? ‘Enjoy’?”

Abrams nodded. “Yes. That is my advice. While you’re gone, I’ll poke around. See what I can do.”

He placed his hands over hers.

Mossler looked down at them in surprise. Then she tilted her head and gave Abrams the kind of look a mother gives her four-year-old when he offers to protect her from the bogeyman.

“Oh, Andy . . .” she said.

She didn’t go on, but it was obvious what her words would have been if she had.

What could you do?

They talked a little longer after that, only getting up to leave when students started drifting in for the next class. Mossler had a lecture of her own to give downstairs, in one of the big halls. After that, she was going to take her friend’s advice. She would hop in her Prius and get out of town.

“It’ll be good practice,” she said. “I mean, if I’m going to run away, I might as well start getting used to it.”

Abrams shocked her by leaning in to give her a hug. He usually wasn’t the hugging type.

When the awkward embrace ended, she left.