of those kids, especially the girls. Every time you come back and talk to their classes, I hear about it.”
“That’s ridiculous. I don’t sell myself as a hero.”
“You don’t have to. They’re all online with their text-to-speech apps. They know your story and they know about your cases long before they meet you.”
“That’s hardly my fault, I never even give interviews. So what’s the issue?”
Layla hesitated and then burst out, “Because of you, these kids are spending their lives dreaming of the day they can see. They think they’re only a miracle operation away from becoming the next Kendra Michaels.”
“Who’s to say they won’t be? The medical team that gave me my sight have done the same for hundreds of others.”
“Hundreds? Out of how many tens of thousands of hopefuls?”
“I don’t know the answer to that. But I do know the odds are getting better with each passing day.”
“Come off it,” Layla said. “You know the chance of any of these kids ever seeing is close to zero.”
“Whatever the odds, there’s always room for hope.”
“They need to focus on being the best they can be with the hand they’ve been dealt. Not spending their days and nights dreaming of a life they’ll never have.”
She stared at her in disbelief. “I never stress anything else but learning and challenging themselves at every moment, every path, in their lives. Yet you still think I’m keeping these kids from being the best they can be?”
“I know you are, Dr. Michaels. I’m on the front lines here. I’ve seen thousands of blind children come through this school. I know what I’m talking about.”
“You’re wrong. The kids I’ve met, and I’d bet the kids in that pool, are amazing. You don’t give them enough credit. They’re strong and resilient and just plain wonderful. They know how to make the most of their lives and hold on to their dreams, whatever they might be.” Her voice was suddenly passionate. “And I’ll keep telling them to dream of miracles. Because somewhere out there in the world there’s a med student who’s having dreams of his own about how to make those miracles come true.”
For an instant Layla looked taken aback. Then she said harshly, “Just what I’d expect of you. Keep thinking that. But just know I won’t ever invite you to come speak to my students.”
“Noted.”
Layla turned and strode back toward her class. She blew her whistle and resumed her callouts.
Kendra took a deep breath and shook her head. Wow. Definitely a new one for her. Allison’s opinion of Kendra’s contributions had not been particularly encouraging, but she’d realized how deeply Kendra wanted to help. Layla’s blunt rudeness had caught her off guard. Maybe she should have been more controlled and not responded that sharply to the blasted woman.
But perhaps Layla’s arguments weren’t entirely without merit. Could the woman have a point? Everyone had a right to their opinion.
No time for self-doubt. Not here, not now. She could tussle with it later.
Kendra turned and walked away from the pool.
But she found herself thinking about it anyway, because it kept gnawing at her all the way to Elaine Wessler’s second-floor office in the Brockmire Building. Although it was one of the newer buildings on campus, it was made to appear quite old, with a classical design and dramatic columns lining the front side.
Kendra climbed the staircase and looked down the long hallway. Classrooms were on the right and teachers’ offices lined the left. As promised, a custodian was working on the floor, adjusting a water fountain.
Kendra approached him, and even before she could get a word out, he spoke. “Yes, ma’am. Ms. Wessler’s office is this way.” He led her to a door halfway down the corridor. He pulled out a ring of keys, each of which was black and topped by a red rubber jacket.
“Do all the keys on campus look like that?” Kendra said.
The custodian showed her the ring. “Just faculty and staff offices. Classroom keys have red jackets, and plumbing, electricity, HVAC, and maintenance closets have black jackets.”
“Interesting.”
He unlocked Elaine Wessler’s office and opened it. “Such a shame,” he said under his breath.
“Did you know her?” Kendra asked.
“A little. I used to pet her dogs when she’d let me. Depending on where they were in their training, you know. She’d sometimes bring them with her to school. Nice lady.”
“She was.” Kendra glanced at the name tag stitched on the upper-left-hand side of his jumpsuit uniform. “Thank you, Gary. I won’t be long.”
He lingered for