3

I saw it all coming before anyone else did. An objective observer, I noticed the commercials switching from promising the best quality to promising the most for your money. It no longer mattered whether or not this was the best television; it only cost a few hundred dollars. Nobody cared that this was the best-tasting mac-and-cheese; you could feed your entire family for only a dollar. News shows started to discuss financial crises more and more and more, showing more and more dramatic prognostications until the budget was cut and all they had were their words.

At that point in my life I taught kindergarten, because no matter how brilliant I was, I never could predict the actions of five year olds. It was almost interesting, the constant game I had to play with them: I had to remember when they would expect a smile, had to remember when to be stern. I had to learn how to offer comforting words when they needed them, taught them how to tie shoes and zip zippers and write their own names.
This entertained me for a while. Then I became too good at the game, as I’d become at any game I’d ever played. I didn’t really have to think, anymore, about when to smile. My hugs grew so warm that they could stop a child’s crying in an instant. My entire class knew how to tie their shoes and zip their coats, except for maybe a blonde boy who had Velcro sneakers.

My trouble had always been that I was much too smart. My teachers had said it back in high school, my professors had envied me in college. By grad school, I had learned all I could learn from them. I never graduated. I worked this job and that one until it was boring. I breezed through promotions, worked with and against high profile businessmen. The minute someone told me I was invaluable (but couldn’t I be just a little more personable?) I quit. I never forgot anything.

My family, when I couldn’t avoid them, wondered at my change. Business executive to kindergarten teacher was such a step down, they said. They asked why I couldn’t just pick a job, a career, and stick with it. They asked when I’d started liking children. I evaded all their questions with the ease of a girl who was much smarter than they could ever hope to be.

At that time, I lived in California, and because of the state of the economy, they couldn’t afford to come visit me, and I could never hope to visit them, not on a kindergarten teacher’s salary. More that in terms of money, I couldn’t afford to have them lurking around my house. I was closing in on the fourth kill.

The rush of adrenaline that came with a murder was the closest thing I felt to emotion these days. It was better than the physical pleasure I had used before to fight off boredom, which was better than the physical pain I had used before that. If I didn’t focus too hard, I could confuse this rush with actual emotion.

The careful plotting was enthralling, engaging, worthy of my many talents.