In our minds we tried to pin her to a corkboard like a butterfly, but the pin merely went through and away she flew

As we approached each other, the noise and the students around us melted away and we were utterly alone, passing, smiling, holding each other's eyes, floors and walls gone, two people in a universe of space and stars.

Their voices came in clearly from the golf course. The laughing and yelping made a raucous counterpoint to the metronomic tock-tock-tock of the bunny's never-ending hop. Once, in the light of the quarter moon, they appeared in silhouette on a domed, distant green, like figures dancing in someone's dream.
And then quite suddenly they were gone, as if the dreamer had awakened. Nothing to see, nothing to hear. Someone called "Hey!" after them, but that was all.

I’m not sure,” she said. “There’s no one answer to that. You have to
find your own way. Sometimes I try to erase myself. I imagine a big
pink soft soap eraser, and it’s going back and forth, back and forth,
and it starts down at my toes, back and forth, back and forth, and
there they go-poof!-my toes are gone. And then my feet. And then my
ankles. But that’s the easy part. The hard part is erasing my senses-my
eyes, my ears, my nose, my tongue. And last to go is my brain. My
thoughts, memories, all the voices inside my head. That’s the hardest,
erasing my thoughts.” She chuckled faintly. “My pumpkin. And then, if
I’ve done a good job, I’m erased. I’m gone. I’m nothing. And then the
world is free to flow into me like water into an empty bowl.

She's in tenth grade,' he said. 'I hear she's been homeschooled till now.'
Maybe that explains it,' I said.

You’ll know her more by your questions than by her answers. Keep looking at her long enough. One day you might see someone you know.