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He reached me with two strokes, and ducking under the piece of wood I held, dived down. I felt a tugging at my leg, a sharp pain, and then the dragging tension eased. He grasped my wrists and hung there, gulping air, as the rolling swell carried us, up and down. A wave broke over my head, and Jamie disappeared temporarily. I shook my head, blinking, and he was there again. After four years they left, of an age and qualified to take jobs waiting for them elsewhere. They told how they had been appalled at what they read or saw on TV, afterward witnessed for themselves. Inquiring around, they came on an outfit, small but with branches in several big cities, that tried to make placements. The original experience showed what they had to offer and what sort of kids would likely benefit from it. Now, I went toward him, and, bending down, examined the surface of the door, where he was smelling. I found that the wood was covered with a network of scratches, crossing and recrossing one another, in inextricable confusion.

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