The Girl Without a Watch
By Mikah

No one knew exactly where Anna had come from. Fewer still knew how to ask Anna questions without being ignored.

Every day, Anna would appear in the classroom. We all had different theories explaining how she got there, yet we all agreed that she appeared quite suddenly. Anna appeared early on some days; she appeared late on others. Once in awhile, she appeared exactly on time.

I once asked Anna why she was never in class at any specific time.

 “Because then I would need a watch,” she had replied. The others had received similar answers. However, she handled questions that required precise answers with brisk little shrugs and apologetic little smiles.

 “Which street do you live on?”

 “Why don’t you like watches?”

 “How come you don’t have a backpack?”

Shrug, smile, shrug.

 Anna wasn’t a ghost, which had been our first theory; she occasionally appeared in town doing normal things. She bought candy, she climbed trees, she read books. Yet she still appeared instead of coming. It seemed that whenever we wondered where Anna had gone, there she was.

 Anna even spoke sometimes, mostly on Wednesdays. We couldn’t help but pay attention; anything as rare as an entire sentence from Anna was noteworthy. On such an occasion, we would all shush each other and encourage Anna to repeat what she had said.

 “I miss how things were,” she declared softly on one such Wednesday.

 ”What was it like, then?” Even brave Danny Westler, self-proclaimed soccer champion of our little world, spoke in a soft and timid voice when questioning our live ghost.

 “It was…” we held our breaths for this eternal pause, “more dignified. People knew what they were doing then. They did things with pride. I miss that.”

 Anna signaled that she was finished by tucking a lock of pale hair back behind one ear shyly. Her eyes moved quickly back towards the wall, and if anything happened to come between her and that wall, she didn’t deign to notice. Even with her gaze directed so far away, it was hard to miss the striking yellow-green of her catlike eyes.

 Anna’s Then Theory was discussed endlessly for days. How long ago was this? Was it when we were still too small to know the meaning of the words pride and dignity? Perhaps it was in an age when these words were spoken in a language long forgotten…

 “How can it be so long ago?” Danny Westler scoffed. “She’s only been around for twelve years or so, if she’s as old as she looks.”

 Those who believed Danny’s words to be proclamations brought forth from the heavens fell respectfully silent. I, however, had to know, as I always did.

 “How can we be sure she’s that young? She doesn’t seem like a—” I struggled for just the right words, “—a young adult. She’s…timeless.”

 “Timeless…” a few of the thoughtful ones repeated the word, letting its implications wander towards various conclusions in their various minds.

 “Timeless?” some of the slower ones mimicked, curious about this word that belonged in yawningly long critics’ reviews and refined British vocabularies.

 “Timeless,” I affirmed tentatively. “She would fit into any setting, any time, in her quiet way. She could appear in medieval times, knitting with her ladies-in-waiting quite comfortably in the corner. She could, in modern day Tibet, herd her flock of sheep through the distant, towering mountains most patiently. She could even,” I imagined my eyes twinkling at this point, “sit looking out the window of a ship destined for Jupiter in the distant future, gazing somewhat vaguely at the passing stars.” I realized that these abstract ideas only held meaning here and now for those who don’t dream the way I do.

 The room was quiet, though a few words of disbelief and a few exclamations of barely contained excitement kept the silence from swallowing us whole.

 “Timeless, because she never wears a watch!” Danny hated to be outspoken, but this crude humor was a poor attempt at saving face.

 It was, however, our best watch explanation yet.

 “Where is Anna, anyway? She hasn’t appeared near us all weekend,” a lesser member of our ranks complained.

 “Yeah, where—“

 The reply was cut off abruptly, the newest speaker staring in the direction of the baseball field.

 There was Anna, tossing a ball into the air and catching it with a continuous rhythm.

 We nearly tripped over each other in the mad dash towards her sphere of being.

 “Anna, where—I mean, when do you come from?” (We never did remember who exactly posed this question, but we all agreed that it was quite clever.)

 Anna’s gaze went from transparent to opaque so that she was actually looking straight at us with that amused feline gaze, me in particular. She did not shrug. She allowed herself a wide, genuine smile.

 No one spoke; we were all thinking, That was it, the right question was finally asked, Anna’s not from here, Anna’s not from now…

 What, oh, what could be the next question?

 Shy Cassy, defined in that moment, stepped forward.

 “Would you have to live in our time, now, to wear a watch?”

 Anna’s smile was almost human by now. We all nodded approval to Cassy.

 Of course, three questions are needed to verify anything  as unquestionable truth.

 As one entity, they turned and looked at me, waiting. Destiny prodded me forward.

 I found myself asking, “Why now?”

 Anna’s smile went out like a doused flame. She looked left, then right, then left again before her line of vision was once again centered more or less on her peers. It might have been a reflexive tic, but I’d swear that Anna winked.

 “I was…sent.”

 “Who? Who sent you?” We shouted and pleaded until we were all hoarse, but Anna, responding to some imperceptible beckoning, dropped her baseball and wandered away.

 “A mission,” Danny suggested. “She’s a secret agent on a mission.”

 “Nuh-uh!” Cassy piped up. “She’s an angel sent by God.”

 As always, the speculations were numerous and varied. We would certainly have been bored out our minds if Anna had answered our careless fourth question.

 Anna surprised and amazed us further one day by going so far as to show emotion; genuine, heartfelt emotion. It all started with the dog.

 “Hey, puppy, c’mere, good boy…” Danny ran over to the little droop-eared hound energetically. It backed off a few steps, obviously frightened. Those of us who knew better walked up slowly, unthreateningly, using terms of endearment and snacks fished from pockets to gain the dog’s temporary trust. He was alone and tagless.

 Anna (not everyone remembered having seen her with us before now) started urgently towards the puppy. She held out a hand, which was licked cautiously. Her eyes grew as sad and wide as those of the hound.

 “Where’s your mother?” she asked him. Her eyes grew a little sadder when the dog curled up at her feet in response.

 “Lost…I see,” Anna sighed. “I see.”

 Anna gave the little dog a comforting pat and sad down beside him. We all looked at one another.

 “It’s late,” I said, “we should all get going.” Anna didn’t so much as blink.

 We walked off slowly, leaving Anna behind, whispering to her new friend confidentially.

 The next morning, we waited in our dreary classroom of facts and numbers. Anna was not there yet. Never before had we actually anticipated her arrival, but today we would discover just how Anna appeared.

 The minutes ticked by. The teacher looked up from her book and down the rim of her glasses at us, finally noticing that we were paying less attention to her historical recitations than usual.

 “What has you little bees buzzing with chatter, hmm?” The teacher’s voice had a deceptively mild tone, one that could turn to ice in an instant.

 Cassy offered, “Anna’s not here. I guess…I guess waiting for her makes it harder for her to appear.”

The rest of us nodded agreement, proud of Cassy’s concise explanation. The teacher, for some arcane reason, did not see the crystal-clear logic.

 “We…she’s never been quite this late before,” the teacher admitted, “but that’s no excuse for chattering away while you’re supposed to be paying attention. My goodness, you children never seem to want to learn anything.”

 As if on cue, there was a polite knock on the classroom door. The head and shoulders of a cheery middle-aged woman popped in.

 “Sorry to interrupt,” said the newcomer. She strode forward into the glow of one particularly strong overhead light. Not a few of us noticed her green eyes that gave her the same timeless look that Anna possessed.

 “Hello!” the timeless woman chirped. “I came to tell you all that Anna won’t be coming to school anymore. I’m her mother, Ayla Benson. We’ll be moving soon, and we’re going to finish packing up today.”

 “Moving?!” Danny cried out, ever the tactful one.

 “We’ll miss her,” I said softly after the inevitable few moments of dismayed silence. Anna’s traceable lineage and earthly home had shocked us all.

 The woman smiled a sad little smile that reminded us even more strongly of Anna.

 “It’s good to know that someone like Anna could make this many good friends,” she said, her voice both grateful and mournful.

 “She’s quiet and kinda strange, sure, but we still like ‘er!” Cassy assured her.

 “Well, her father and I still worry, especially considering her condition.” She paused. “Children…have you ever heard of autism?”

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