"Hello?" he called. His voice was too loud in the big, empty space.

He walked down the sloping center aisle past the curved rows of metal-and-wood chairs. His shoes squeaked. The wooden seats were all standing up against the metal backs. They had made a lot of noise when everyone had stood to go to lunch. Jimmy had enjoyed it. He wished that he could hold down twenty or thirty at once so that he could listen to the clatter when he released them.

When he reached the gray-enameled cement apron between the front row and the stage, he paused to gaze at the spot where the blind man would have landed. It would have hurt a lot. He might have broken his arms or legs. He might even have been killed. Jimmy was amazed all over again at the blind man's bravery and faith. So what if his hands were like dough? Jesus didn't care.

Jimmy crossed the apron to the right side of the stage and climbed the steps that Mr. Sturner had climbed. His shoes were as loud as hammers. He stopped halfway up and looked out across the rows of seats. No one was there. The doors remained closed. He continued upward.

His footsteps were loud on the stage too. He started walking in a shuffle, and the noise was like the sand blocks in music class. He headed for the split in the middle of the brown velvet. When he reached it, he stuck his head through. Behind the curtain, the light was orange.

"Jesus?" he whispered.

His whisper didn't echo. It was if he had said the name to himself, under the covers in bed. No one but him could hear it. He would have to speak up.

He stepped through the split. "Jesus?" he said again, louder. He pressed his hands together and swiveled as if he were a radar antenna. He pointed his fingertips first at one part of the stage and then another. "Jesus?" he called. "Are You here, Jesus? Come in, Jesus. My heart is open to You, Jesus. Come in, please. Over."

There was no answer, no whisper in his ear. He went to the center of the stage, held his arms out straight before him, and turned around and around so that the prayer beam from his fingertips swept the entire stage. "Jesus, this is Jimmy Blackburn," he said. "I accepted You as my Savior last Easter. I have to talk to You. Over."

Still nothing. Jimmy became dizzy, so he began turning the other way. "Jesus, I have a prayer," he said. "I have something to ask You for, in Your name. And anything asked in Your name You promised to do. I know You're here. You whispered to the blind man. Come in, Jesus."

Jesus didn't answer.

Jimmy stopped turning. He pointed his fingers skyward, then closed his eyes tight. "Jesus, please make Mom and Dad happy. I pray this in Your name, Amen."

He listened for the Lord's voice, but all he could hear was the swoosh of blood in his head. All he could feel was the stage rocking under him, trying to make him fall.

He opened his eyes. He was alone on the stage. He had been too late.

Jesus was gone.

Jimmy knew that he had to get back to the lunchroom. He called "Jesus?" once more to make sure, then parted his hands and let his arms drop. Maybe Jesus had gone to the lunchroom with the blind man. Maybe, Jimmy thought, he should have spoken his prayer there instead. But then everyone would have heard.

His dizziness subsided. He walked back through the split in the curtain, into whiter light. The empty seats were spread out before him. He raised his right hand and stepped forward, toward the edge of the stage. His footsteps were as loud as a giant's. He imagined the gasps and the fear. Would he know when to stop? Would he fall? Would Jesus save him?

Something crackled under his foot. He both felt and heard it. He stopped and looked down.

His toes were four inches from the edge. He was standing on a long strip of brown paper tape that was stuck to the stage. It was almost invisible against the wood. It lay parallel to the edge of the stage.

Jimmy put his other foot on it too. It crackled again. The tape had ridges and air bubbles.

He stepped off the tape and squatted at one end of it. The end had curled a little. He grasped the curl and stood, pulling. The tape came up with a sucking sound. Jimmy wadded it into a ball and then compressed it in his hands as hard as he could. Sharp corners of tape jabbed him. After he stuffed the ball into a pants pocket, his palms were red and sticky.

He hurried down the stage steps and out of the auditorium. The doors banged shut behind him. As he passed the office, he saw Mr. Sturner and the blind man talking inside.

Jimmy made it back to the lunchroom before the bell rang. He'd had more time than Mrs. Porter had said. He sat in his place at the table and stared down at a spot of ketchup so he wouldn't have to look at anyone else. All he could hear was his own breath. All he could feel was the ball of tape in his pocket, biting into his leg.

When the bell rang, Mrs. Porter marched the class back to her room single file. As the children settled into their desks, the bell rang again. That meant that the fifth through eighth graders were going to lunch. They would have twenty minutes to eat. Then, Jimmy knew, they would have an assembly to hear the blind man speak.

He sneaked glances at the clock all through the reading lesson. The twenty minutes lasted what seemed like hours. When the bell finally rang to signal the end of the older children's lunch period, Jimmy forced himself to wait five more minutes before raising his hand.

"What is it, Jimmy?" Mrs. Porter asked. Her voice was angry.

Jimmy didn't let it stop him. He couldn't. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he said. "I have to go to the rest room again."

Several of his classmates giggled. Jimmy ignored them.

Mrs. Porter's face reddened. "Jimmy, you just went to the rest room not half an hour ago."

"I know, ma'am, I'm sorry, but-" Jimmy weighed humiliation against success, and chose success. "-but this time it's Number Two."

The class erupted in laughter. Mrs. Porter slammed her hand on her desk and glared at the entire class. "That will be enough!" she said, almost shouting. "There's nothing funny going on in this classroom." Her eyes shifted to Jimmy. She looked disgusted. "You may go, Jimmy. If you aren't back in ten minutes, I'll call Mr. Sturner on the intercom and have him check on you."

Jimmy hurried out of the room, walking in a half waddle for authenticity. His classmates snickered, and Mrs. Porter yelled at them again. Jimmy was glad. If she was mad at them, maybe she would forget that she was mad at him.

He strode alone down the cool, empty hall. The ball of tape pressed into his thigh. He passed the rest room and went straight to the auditorium.

One half of the center double door was propped open with its metal foot. Jimmy slipped inside and stood against a concrete pillar embedded in the wall. If he remained still and quiet, he wouldn't be noticed. Everyone was looking the other way.

Principal Sturner came down from the stage. The curtains parted. The older kids murmured.

The blind man stood alone at the back of the stage. As before, he put down his cane before stepping forward. As before, he strode without hesitation, without fear. He was courageous in his faith.

Jimmy didn't watch the blind man's feet. He concentrated on the face. The smile. The ears. The sunglasses, shining with twin spots of light.

The older children and their teachers gasped as the blind man came close to the edge of the stage. The blind man raised a hand in greeting, and his smile broadened, revealing his teeth. Then he stepped off, and fell, and landed on his face on the cement.

Girls screamed. Boys yelped. Teachers rose from their seats.

The blind man twitched. He raised his head. His sunglasses hung from one ear. Jimmy saw his milky, blank eyes.

Mr. Sturner rushed to the blind man and tried to help him up. But the blind man was big, and Mr. Sturner couldn't do it. His feet slipped, and he fell too, landing on his bottom beside the blind man. Somebody laughed. Everyone else screamed or yelped again.