[ WP ] During the first day of grade school , a sleeper agent 's activation code is spoken 20 years too early .

Stephanie is not a fan of school. She has been here all of two hours, and already she knows that she will hate it. The school is in the city, one of the massive public schools, with hundreds and hundreds of other kids. It is n't nice and open, like home. 
 
 At home, there are cartoons and toys, and she can color whenever she wants to. Here, she is expected to sit quietly, and she gets put in the corner if she plays with toys. It is n't fair. She tried defiance, planting her fat little fists on her hips, but to no avail. Mrs. Rowantree is a meany, and she just picked her up and planted Stephanie in the corner to watch the wall. 
 
 Stephanie hates the corner. She glances behind her and sees Mrs. Rowantree reading the newspaper. The mean old lady's face is safely hidden behind a picture of Gerald Ford's smiling face, and another silly one of the president falling down a flight of stairs. Stephanie ca n't read yet, but she knows from the breakfast table hat an adult engrossed in a newspaper wo n't bother her. 
 
 Stephanie turns, looking to the other students. They're engrossed in drawing pictures of what they want to be when they grow up. The toys on the opposite end of the room. 
 
 Slowly, trying to avoid Mrs. Rowantree's nasty gaze, she sneaks across the room toward a fire truck that catches her eye. Stephanie bends down, pulls the engine back and forth, smiling at the way the wheels squeak gently in the toy. 
 
 She lifts the engine to examine the underside, then abruptly stops as Mrs Rowantree grabs her by the hair. 
 
 `` What did I tell you? You are in time out!'' 
 
 Stephanie scowls, and fights back. `` No! I'm not done playing yet!'' 
 
 `` Young lady, I will fetch the paddle. Do n't think that I wo n't!'' 
 
 `` No!'' 
 
 Mrs. Rowantree smacks Stephanie across the back of the head. She bites down hard on her tongue. 
 
 Stephanie tries to yell, `` not yet!'' But the words are marbled by her bleeding tongue. What comes out is, `` natchyetste!'' 
 
 To her amazement, Mrs Rowantree promptly lets her go. Stephanie watches as the mean old teacher walks to her desk and pulls out a little blinky pen. 
 
 The other children glance up from their coloring, perplexed. Mrs Rowantree opens her mouth, a vague smile on her middle aged face. She says, almost sweetly, `` Nasdarov Rodina.'' She presses the blinky pen, and suddenly, her desk is gone. Mrs. Rowantree is gone. An entire wing of the school is gone, engulfed in fire. 
 
 *********** 
 
 `` So what happened, here?'' 
 
 Detective Harper looks up from his gristly work, into the dead eyes of the school's middle aged principle. Both of the, are covered in black ash. Neither one of them is willing to admit to what that ash might once of been. 
 
 `` So far as I can tell, a lot of plastic explosives, Stan. Looks like enough to have leveled ten schools, easily. Epicenter looks like it was at Rowantree's room.'' 
 
 `` But what was she hoping to accomplish? And why the overkill?'' 
 
 Harper shrugged. `` I do n't know. But we're lucky. If she'd had the time to plant those explosives around the rest of the school, in more key places, she could have easily killed everyone, not just the population of the C Wing. And she still would have had a tremendous amount to spare.'' 
 
 `` She? You think one of MY teachers was responsible for this, Harper?'' The principle is outraged. Through the soot, Harper can see small flecks of angry, red skin. Harper sighs. 
 
 `` I do n't know what to think, Stan. But I do know that our files one Cynthia Rowantree show that she disappeared for three months in August of last year. Her only family was in the city, and there was zero contact with her. Nobody knows *where* she was for those three months. Stan, I do n't think it's out of the question that something was done to her in that time. I think she had a mission.'' 
 
 `` Ok, but why blow up one wing of the school? That seems... I do n't want to say'lackluster,' but it seems like a poor return on the resources to make a woman attack America.'' 
 
 Harper offered a helpless shrug. `` I do n't know. The size of the explosion suggests that she had other targets, other plans. But something made them detonate early. Maybe an electrical malfunction? Maybe a bad day with the children? It could be a million different things.'' 
 
 Stan sighed heavily. `` It's a high price to pay, Jack... An entire wing of the school. 312 children and teachers are dead. And I hired her. That blood is forever on my hands.'' 
 
 Harper put a hand on the man's shoulder, `` you could n't have known, Stan. Anyone who was sweeping teachers for plastic explosives on a daily basis... I'd ship him off and call him mad any day of the week.'' 
 
 Stan nodded. `` That's not what their parents will say.'' He swallowed heavily. `` It's not what those kids have been saying in my head, every night since this happened. It's not what Lisa said when she left me, and it's damn well not what the congressional hearing will determine when this is all over.'' 
 
 Harper withdrew his hand, wrung it helplessly in his other. `` For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Stan. I truly am. But this could have been so much worse. At the end of the day, we've just got to be thankful for the fact that this was n't bigger.'' 
 
 `` I guess so, jack.'' A lone tear streaked down Stan's face, cleaning the ash from his features as it did so. `` I guess so.''
