The blind man had come to eat lunch with the children, and he was sitting right next to Jimmy. His white cane was propped against the bench between them. Its handle was wrapped in red tape, darkened where the blind man's hand had gripped it.
Everyone watched the blind man eat. He opened his mouth wide and brought a spoonful of macaroni to it as if his arm were a machine. He chewed with his mouth closed.
Jimmy could see behind the left lens of the sunglasses. The blind man's eyelids were closed, the skin around them dark and puckered. Jimmy wondered if there was any eye in there at all, or just an empty hole. And if it was a hole, would the brain be exposed if the eyelids opened?
Mrs. Porter sat at the end of the table. She was watching the blind man too. She was also watching Jimmy, and scowling. She didn't want him to say anything to the blind man.
He would do it anyway, but he was scared. It would have been easier in the auditorium after all. Up close, the blind man was big, bigger even than Jimmy's father. And he had an odd smell. Jimmy thought it might be soap, but he wasn't sure.
The blind man swallowed and turned toward Jimmy. Jimmy saw his own face in each lens of the sunglasses. "And what's your name, youngster?" the blind man asked.
Jimmy was surprised. He had to think for a minute. "Jimmy Blackburn, sir," he said at last.
"That's a nice name," the blind man said. "Have you been saved?" He asked this question in the same tone as Mr. Sturner asking who had flushed the wad of paper towels in the boys' rest room.
"Yes, sir," Jimmy said. "Last Easter." Every child in the Fairview Baptist Church had been saved that day. The pastor had made them come up to the altar and accept Jesus Christ as their personal Savior in unison. Jimmy hadn't felt any different afterward, but now he was glad it had happened. He would have hated to tell the blind man that he was one of the unsaved.
The blind man smiled. "That's wonderful. What better time to be saved than on the day the Lord arose. You'll remember it for the rest of your life."
"Yes, sir," Jimmy said.
"And He'll never leave you now, Jimmy. He'll live in your heart forever, and if you need help, he'll tell you what to do. He's the one friend you can always count on."
Jimmy glanced at Mrs. Porter. She seemed to be concentrating on her food now. He leaned closer to the blind man and spoke in a quiet voice.
"Did Jesus really talk to you?" he asked.
The blind man's smile faded a little. "He talks to me all the time, Jimmy." His voice boomed.
Mrs. Porter looked up from her food and gave Jimmy a warning look. He pretended not to see her.
"I mean when you were on the stage," he said, still keeping his voice quiet. Maybe Mrs. Porter wouldn't hear him over the lunchroom babble. She wouldn't like what he was saying. It was almost as if he were calling the blind man a liar. "Did Jesus really whisper in your ear to warn you? So you wouldn't walk off the edge?"
The blind man's smile came back full and strong. "Oh, that." He picked up his napkin and rubbed it around his mouth. "Yes, He did, Jimmy. He saw that I was about to do myself harm, and He stopped me. He'll do that for you too, if you keep Him in your heart and study His Word."
Mrs. Porter's look had become fiercer. It was telling Jimmy to shut up and behave himself. But he couldn't stop now. This was too important.
"You mean Jesus was right there on the stage with you?" he asked. "Invisible?"
The blind man chuckled. He tapped a finger against his sunglasses. "Everything is invisible to me, so I must rely on what I can hear and feel. And I tell you truly, I heard the Lord's voice, and I felt His presence, just as I hear your voice and feel your presence right now. So don't be fooled by what your eyes tell you, Jimmy. The Lord may be invisible to your eyes, but not to your heart."
Jimmy was excited. "Is it true that anything you ask in His name, He'll give to you?"
"Why, of course," the blind man said. He seemed surprised that Jimmy would ask such a question. "That's promised in the Bible, in the Lord's own words. If you open your heart to Him, there's nothing He won't do for you."
Mrs. Porter cleared her throat. "Jimmy, you had better finish your meal now. Lunch period is almost over, and I'm sure you've pestered our guest quite enough."
The blind man chuckled again. "Ma'am, I only wish more youngsters would pester me as this boy has." He smiled down at Jimmy. "I'm going to be talking to the fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth graders this afternoon, Jimmy. I hope that they can still believe in the invisible too. Sometimes older children can't, you know. The world has poisoned them. That's why it's good that you're already saved. For some people, it's too late. They've become too scarred to feel, too deafened to hear."
"Yes, sir," Jimmy said. He wasn't listening hard now. His question had been answered. He took a few more bites of macaroni, then drank some milk. The blind man was still talking, but not to Jimmy. He was addressing the children across the table, repeating some of what he'd already said.
Mrs. Porter's lips were twitching. She kept looking up at the clock on the lunchroom wall. "Finish your meals, people. Lunch is over in six minutes."
Jimmy raised his hand. Mrs. Porter stared at him as if he had just pulled a booger from his nose. He kept his hand up until she asked what he wanted.
"May I go to the rest room, please?" he asked.
Mrs. Porter pressed her lips into a line and looked up at the clock again. "Have you finished your meal?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Very well, then. You may throw away your trash and go to the rest room. You have five minutes."
"Yes, ma'am." Jimmy stood.
The blind man touched his shoulder. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Jimmy," he said. He held out his hand.
Jimmy put his right hand into the blind man's grip. The blind man's hand was big and soft. It was as if Jimmy's own hand had been swallowed.
"Remember to listen and feel, Jimmy," the blind man said. "With your heart."
"Yes, sir," Jimmy said. He was anxious to leave. He didn't have much time. The blind man seemed to want to hang on to his hand forever. Jimmy pulled free, picked up his tray, and hurried to the garbage can. He dumped his trash and leftovers, put the dirty tray on the counter, and walked out of the lunchroom as fast as he could.
He would have started running as soon as he was in the hall, but Mr. Sturner was standing beside the lunchroom's double doorway. Jimmy could feel the principal's eyes on his back. The blind man was right. You didn't always have to be looking at people to know they were there.
He turned the corner and stopped at the door to the boys' rest room, his fingertips touching the wood. He looked behind him. Mr. Stumer had not followed. The glass wall of the school office was right across the hall, but the secretary had her back to him. She was eating a sandwich. There was no one else in sight. The only sound was the murmur from the lunchroom.
Jimmy took his hand away from the rest room door and ran down the hall to talk to Jesus.
The auditorium seemed deserted. Only the stage lights were on. The door swung shut behind Jimmy with a reverberating kachunk. He waited a few seconds for the voice of a teacher to ask him what he was doing there.
"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.