“Hey, Beesly… I’ve been planning our next prank,” Jim whispered, interrupting Pam’s thoughts. Her eyes softened and released a few wrinkles of tension. She perked at the sound of his voice, relieved by the invoking of her name. He pronounced each letter gently, holding the “y”. She loved the tone, the ring that was indistinguishable from him. It was soft and a nudge that he hadn’t totally forgotten her.

 He still held the LED light that allowed him to see the writing via the invisible pen’s ink of Pam’s speechless expression, he just sometimes forgot to flick it on. She felt as though he was realizing sometimes it was a lot of work to squint and decipher the invisible ink when he could simply read a bold, assertive sharpie. Karen was easy to read and effortless to talk to.

Pam got excited at the mention of a prank, her veins flowing with a new emotion. Jim pulled out the notebook and labeled it with sloppy block letters. Jim began to spew out prank plans, getting more amplified as the list went on. Pam gave quick, fleeting nods, meekly agreeing with them all. Jim’s eyes flash a look of worry once he noted her agreement and simply pushed the notebook towards her, jostling her perfectly lined-up pens.

Pam picked up the pencil, opening every excess filing cabinet her mind had saved. She wondered through, searching for one to impress and excite Jim, yet she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Her mind could only take her back to the oak tree. Where Dwight gave her swing a push of reassurance and comfort. He took the chains of isolation on the swing of courage and pushed her forward. She wouldn’t let herself mess this one up. She drew a few boxes, then scribbled the words “Dear Future Dwight '' into them. This would be perfect. Sending him letters on sticky notes from his future self was simple yet thrilling. 

Jim’s eyes watched her draw. She drew meticulously, perfecting each line and corner, forming symmetrical boxes and neat letters. Once he could make out the words that she had written into the boxes, his face lit up. She was a genius.

“Can I join the party?” Karen whispered.

Pam’s eyes spun to see the source of the familiar voice to assure her suspicions. Jim shifted uncomfortably in his hard seat. He looked to Pam for approval, but he could only see sparks of doubt and worry in her eyes, giving no insight into her opinion on the matter. 

“Sure!” Jim answered.

“Can I see the notebook?” Karen mumbled, glancing at the notebook under Pam’s right forearm. Pam’s eyes were glazed over as her mind spun. Jim could see her thoughts frantically searching. 

“Pam… the notebook,” Jim said gently. 

Pam gingerly pushed the notebook across Jim’s desk to reach Karen’s. She felt as if she had just given a piece of herself to someone else. 

Karen’s looked over it, then began erasing.

••

Helene was familiar with Pam’s habits and tics that notified her when she was in distress. Pam was never huge on school. It was never a place of socializing or fun for her, it was merely a place that hijacked her nervous system and clouds her thoughts. 

When Pam was younger, her protests and resistance made it clear on her opinion on attending school. The comforts of repetition and routine created a safer environment for her to progress in as the years advanced. She began to come home less overcome with exhaustion, her mind rolling to a stop sign after speeding way too fast on the highway of her mind, her thought police which challenged the irrational never seemed to succeed. Helene first wrote it off as the change in meds her daughter was receiving but began to gather pieces that pointed towards the introduction of Jim into her class. Her psychologist who was assisting in her treatment even noticed a gradual change in her demeanor. 

The second half of first grade was filled with fewer sniffles from the back seat of the car and nails that finally had been allowed growth with the lowering in chewing on them. The white tops of her nails were visible, they were still short but the curved white line along the edge of the nail not under the nail bed was making an appearance. 

The key was the hair clip. Since Pam had inherited the frizzy, goofy hair she had used it as a method of blending and covering. One day, she came home with a soft purple barrette. She was radiating excitement as she showed it off to her family members as if it was her most prized possession. She said Jim had given it to her. 

The hair clip became a look into Pam’s confidence in herself. When she felt brave enough to pull back the frizzy hair and reveal her big green eyes, she would pull it out from the second drawer in her nightstand where she always kept it safe, and have Helene pull the front sections of her hair into a half-up half-down look. Her auburn hair would be golden as the sun gently reflected it and the curls lay flatly on her back. The clip was a step for Pam. Although her hair was still frizzy and mundane, it was courage that let her take on the world without the security of the red curls in front of her eyes, allowing her to see the world in smaller increments. 

Yet, now she was wearing the clip less often.