“One of my old professors from college. He was a very special teacher.”
“Not like old Wally, eh?” Bib popped the wad of gummy fruit mash into his mouth.
Anna’s eyes grew opaque at the mention of Inglass; all flat and reflective, like seeing one’s own blurry image on the back of a spoon. Wondering how Anna did that with her eyes, Bib said, “You read in the paper about the whole school turning out for his funeral on Tuesday?”
Anna shook her head, and her light brownish hair rippled over her shoulders. “I don’t read the Herald—it costs too much. Fifty cents a pop for it is ridiculous.”
“Too bad, they had a picture of Wally in there and everything—taken before Saturday, of course,” Bib said around his mouthful of fruit pulp. Anna smiled, saying, “Too bad. I might’ve paid fifty cents to see
