Part 2 — The
Girl in the Third Row
I was writing an essay question on the board when someone knocked.
“Come in,” I called.
The door opened.
“Sorry I’m late. I’m Lily.”
I turned around.
The marker fell from my fingers.
For several seconds, I forgot where I was.
A sixteen-year-old girl stood in the doorway.Girl’s clothing
Dark curls framed her face.
Her eyes were a strange gray-green.
There was a tiny crease near the left side of her mouth when she looked uncertain.
Then she lifted one hand and tucked a curl behind her left ear.
My stomach dropped.
Maggie used to do that.
Whenever she was nervous, embarrassed, or trying desperately not to laugh, she would push her hair behind that same ear.
I stared at Lily.
She wasn’t identical to the eight-year-old daughter I remembered.Plan Family Trips
That would have been easier.
Instead, she looked like an answer to a question I had
spent eight years trying not to ask.
What would Maggie look like now?
Lily shifted awkwardly.
Her eyes dropped to the marker on the floor.
Then back to me.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
The word came out too quickly.
I bent down to retrieve the marker so she wouldn’t see my hands trembling.
“Yes. Sorry. You’re the new transfer student, right?”
She nodded.
“Lily.”
I assigned her a seat in the third row and continued teaching.
At least, I think I continued teaching.
My mouth moved.
Words came out.
I wrote things on the board.
Students answered questions.
But my mind kept returning to the girl sitting in the third row.Girl’s clothing
Every glance in her direction hurt.
When lunch finally came, I locked myself inside a bathroom stall and cried silently into my hands.
I felt ridiculous.
Ashamed, even.
This child had done nothing.
She had simply walked into a
classroom.
After several minutes, I washed my face and stared at my reflection.
“She is not Maggie,” I whispered.
Another teacher was washing her hands nearby and glanced toward me.
I pretended I had said nothing.
That evening, I almost told Paul.
But something stopped me.
Perhaps I was afraid he would think I had lost my mind.
I waited until the next night.
We were halfway through dinner when I finally said, “There’s a new student in my second-period class.”
Paul looked up.
“Okay.”
“She looks like Maggie.”
His fork froze halfway to his mouth.
Only for a moment.
But I noticed.
Something crossed his face before sorrow replaced it.
I immediately tried to soften what I had said.
“Not literally, obviously. I don’t know exactly what Maggie would look like at sixteen. But this girl has her eyes. And sometimes when she’s thinking, she makes the same expression.”Girl’s clothing styles
Paul slowly placed his fork down.
“Rachel, please.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Don’t do this.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re taking some girl you barely know and turning her into Maggie.”Girl’s toy selection
The exhaustion in his voice hurt more than anger would have.
“I know she isn’t Maggie.”
“Then leave it alone.”
I reached across the table.
Paul pulled his hand away.
That hurt too.
“Every time you tell me she looks like Maggie,” he whispered, “it feels like I lose our daughter all over again.”Look-alike finder service
After that, I stopped mentioning Lily.
But I couldn’t stop noticing her.
