Ms. Mandana paused at the crosswalk, listening to the sirens and explosions. They were to the west, far enough not to worry about. She crossed the street, thankful for the volunteers who kept it clear of rubble and kneeled down by the hole in the chain link fence on the other side. There were a few soldiers in view, but as usual they didn’t pay her any attention. She took a cloth bundle out of her bag and layed it out on the ground. As always, the mother poked her head through the fence first, sniffed the food Ms. Mandana brought, and as soon as she began eating her eight purring kittens came out to devour the meal.

Ms. Mandana watched them for a moment, holding her hand out for the cats to sniff and rub their cheeks against, then was back on her way, hugging herself to fight the chill of the morning wind.

It’ll be sweltering by noon, she thought. The weather seemed to follow some mad god’s whim anymore, though it had settled into a somewhat predictable pattern over the last few months, barring of course the torrential rains that came without warning. Morning chills meant afternoon heat, and warm mornings meant frigid nights. One never knew which they would get, but the daily war could usually be counted on.

There were the usual cars in the lot. Ms. Sef’s sedan was parked in between two of the reserved spots that survived the last bombing. The school had fortunately been spared, with only a few chunks taken out of the lot to show for the raid. Ms. Sef’s personal spot now had a deep gouge taken out along one strip of the paint, moving her to now take two spots. Mr. Anwar was kind enough to park on the other side of the building so that she wouldn’t have to, sparing her the climb over the broken staircase and playground equipment the volunteers had not been able to clear.

The hallways were empty, leaving Ms. Mandana to wonder if she’d have a class that day. She stopped in the restroom to look in the mirror and repair any damage the wind did to her hair, then went to her classroom. The latch on her door had been fixed. She made a note to herself to thank Mr. Anwar when she saw him.

There was a note on her desk. She eyed the open envelope while absent mindedly hanging her coat on her broken coatrack. She went to her blackboard and wiped the dust off with a rag, then quickly drew the outline of a tree with four branches on either side and a crown of leaves on top. She wanted to give a hopeful lesson. Next she went to each desk, checking for supplies. Many were missing pens or straight edges. She made a list of what she needed, knowing full well she wouldn’t get half of it, and also knowing that she’d be fortunate if even three children attended. She busied herself checking on the terrariums, then sat at one of the desks and looked out the window at the murky sky.

She heard voices in the hall, but when she peeped outside her door the building seemed empty. She wandered down the hall a ways, looking around, then stopped at the one functioning water fountain for a drink. There were a few teachers in some of the classrooms. None had students, though, and the few faces she recognized looked distracted or busy, or simply in no mood to talk. Mandana sighed, then stopped to hang a wreath that had fallen off the wall before returning to her classroom. A young, dark-skinned girl was sitting at a desk in the back row. Her tightly curled hair was tied in pigtails, and she wore a dress that had more patches than its original fabric. One of her mismatched shoes was bigger than the other.

“Good morning,” she said to the girl.

The poor thing couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen years old. “Hello.”

Ms. Mandana smiled, then went to the girl with her attendance sheet and a clipboard.

“Could you sign your name right here? Thank you. Eukary, what an interesting name. Do you know what it means?”

The girl shrugged.

“Okay. Well, I’m Mandana. You can call me Ms. Mandana, if you prefer, or just Mandana. Well, are you knew to this neighborhood?”

The child said nothing.

Mandana sat at the desk next to the girl. “You know, I know that it’s dangerous out there. We have it pretty good, but a lot of places...”

“Is there food?”

Of course she’s hungry. “I’ll go get you some.”

Mandana went to the kitchen, flipped through the keys she kept in her jeans pocket, and opened the freezer door. She came back to the classroom with a plate of corn dogs, chocolate pudding, and a carton of orange juice. Eukary wolfed down the food and chugged the juice. While the girl ate, Mandana took stock of her, noting how wiry and tough she looked for her young age. Her knees, elbows and knuckles were all scuffed and scarred, and she had a fresh cut over one eye. She had a backpack, which she’d stashed under her desk with its straps around one of its feet.

“Thank you,” she said when she’d finished.

Another orphan, Manana thought.

Another child wandered in. He was a boy, and a big one, with scruffy brown hair and torn jeans. His backpack looked heavy.

“Hey there,” Mandana said. “I'm Ms. Mandana. Or just Mandana. It’s up to you. Are you hungry?”

He nodded, then sat down at a desk and immediately began pulling things out of his backpack. He had a worn binder, and every piece of paper had been drawn on. She stopped by the faculty after heating up some more corn dogs, and he seemed more excited by the fresh stack of paper she gave him than the food.

“Would you sign here?” She handed him the sheet. “Forge? Is that a nickname?”

“We all have nicknames,” said Eukary.

“You’re friends?”

Another boy came in, lean and scared with black hair and pale skin. He looked a little older, or at least more serious. He sat at the front of the class. Then another girl, dark but not nearly as dark as Eukary, came in and took a desk in the middle of the room.

“Are there any more of you?” Mandana asked. She handed each of the new entries the sheet.

“Just Aster,” said the caramel skinned girl in the middle of the room.

“Ishtar? That’s a beautiful name.” And she was a beautiful girl, with a more developed body than Eukary and eyes like a cat. Manana worried that she was likely to be assaulted if she wandered through the wrong turf. The soldiers nearby were good young men, but further out, where the army was forced to recruit from the gangs, girls like Ishtar had to be extra careful.

The last student to come in looked like a stray puppy. Her eyes were wide and afraid, her knees, hands and feet much too big for her skinny limbs and body. He bright red hair was a stark contrast to her paper white skin.

“You must be Aster.”

Saying her name seemed to be all she needed, as she instantly changed her whole demeanor, smiling and sitting down at a desk and happily signing on the sheet.

“Would you all like to sit closer together?” Mandana asked. She caught Aster looking at the empty desk by the dark-haired boy who sat up front. But none of them moved or spoke, until Eukary informed them that there was food. When Mandana came back with more corn dogs and pudding, the kids were all inspecting the classroom. Forge had helped himself to what remained of the art supplies, while Aster and Ishtar were poking at one of the terrariums.

“What’s in it?” Aster asked.

“His name’s Wendell. He’s a tarantula.”

Eukary came then, wedging herself between the other girls. She hunkered down with her face to the glass, then pointed at the rock Wendell liked to hide under. Other than shuffling his two front legs, he was still.

“Whose Burt?” said Forge.

Mandana turned and saw him by her desk. “It’s not polite to look at the teacher’s desk.”

“You get to look at our desks,” he replied.

He had a point.

“Burt’s an old friend. Please don’t look at that note. It’s private.” She went to the desk and put the envelope in a drawer. “How about we have a lesson?”

“Sit down,” said Catalyst.

Aster was the first to obey, but the others followed her and none of them seemed annoyed.

Ms. Mandana started the day by teaching them about her town. She showed them maps of where clean water could be found, where the shelters and kitchens were, and arranged for them to have a place to sleep for the night. Then she taught them some songs, which they sang, and they took turns reading from a book that she let them choose. She found herself quickly growing fond of them, even when Forge and Catalyst bickered, and was tempted to offer them rooms in her apartment building. She knew better, though. They would be safer, warmer and better fed in a shelter.

“Can we come back tomorrow?” asked Ishtar.

“Of course.”

The bus pulled in and they boarded, each of them looking around cautiously and keeping close together.

Ms. Sef was waiting for her back in her classroom.

“You had a full crew today,” she said.

Mandana sat at her desk, looking idly at the drawer where she hid Burt’s letter.

“I don’t suppose you learned where they’re from?”

“No,” Mandana answered.

“I called the Colonel. They’re doubling the border patrols, just in case. Can’t be too careful.”

“No. No you can’t.”

“Of course, they only have two options.”

Manana nodded, sickened by what she was agreeing with. “I’ll keep them occupied until they make arrangements at the base.”

“So you want them recruited?”

“Yes,” she lied.

“They’ll be sent to the front. They’ll live longer if we send them on their way.”

No, they wouldn’t. They would be dogged and harassed as soon as they crossed into the interior, and they would be made to suffer every moment until they were finally killed.

“You never know. They might do some good. Maybe even survive.”

Ms. Sef nodded. “True. You never know. I’m leaving early today. Were you planning on staying?”

“Yeah. I’ll lock up.”

“Okay. Be safe.”

Mandana waited around till almost sundown. She took out Bert’s letter but refused to read it. She fed Wendell and the turtles. She swept the floor. Eventually she went into the faculty office and used the phone. It would be easier this way, especially for the kids. They’d be spared the horror of the frontline, and the brutality of the interior townships.

She picked up the phone and dialed the number, wincing at the rumbling growl on the other line.

“Hello, Mr. Barrus. I’m sorry to disturb you sir. Yes sir. No sir. Of course, sir. Children, sir. Five. No, sir, they shouldn’t be much trouble. Yes sir. They’re at the shelter tonight, but I’ll take them somewhere tomorrow afternoon. Yes sir. I’ll let you know.”

Her hand shook as she hung up the phone.