I’d noticed that one of the kids had stopped coming. They hadn’t been reported as sick. Sometimes that just happens, doesn’t really mean much but the week was nearing its end and they hadn’t showed up once, so I thought I’d call the parents to figure out what happened.
“Hey this is Martha.”
“Hey,” his voice sounded rushed, as if he was in the middle of running. I could hear him breathing loudly over the call.
“Is this Lucas’s father.”
“Not really, I mean I guess so.”
Not really? What was that supposed to mean? We’d collected the numbers from the parents when they first entered the kindergarden, and if they changed it they were forced to tell us. It was mandatory, part of the child’s safety. If anything happened, an accident that hurt the child, we would usually call the parent. It was mainly for their sake, it also simplified things if they’re kid were sick and we needed them to come and pick them up.
“Are you his guardian?”
“Yes.”
“I see. I’m just wondering where Lucas has been? I’ve noticed that he hasn’t been coming lately.”
“Oh yes, he won’t be coming.”
“What do you mean? Is he not coming this week?”
“No he won’t be coming again.”
“What?”
He hung up, leaving me at unrest. I looked down at the phone and wondered if I should call back. It would certainly be rude, but that call had been strange and instead of answering my question, it had prompted more.
Maybe he can’t talk right now. I’ll call later.
The day passed simply. I noticed that none of the kids walked up to me to ask me about Lucas. Usually when somebody was sick for this amount of time, I’d get a lot of questions about their location, but it wasn’t all that strange considering how Lucas usually behaved. He didn’t speak much and kept to himself much. I’d usually see him standing alone on the football field, kicking the ball around.
I was alone in the staff room as all the kids had gone home for the day. It was around five in the evening and I thought enough time had passed that I could call again. My co-workers were sitting beside me in the kitchen idlily chatting. I dialed the number but recieved no connection. Right in front of me on the table was the sheet containing all of the parent’s numbers and I’d been sure I put it in right, but I tried again to the same response.
I felt uneasy, like there was something nefarious going on here, and it seemed that it had shown on my face because one of my co-workers asked:
“Is everything alright Martha?”
“It’s just one of the kids have stopped showing up, and now I can’t reach their parents”
“Who?”
“Lucas.”
“Oh that kid. Yeah, he’s a strange one. He’s silent most of the time but I remember one time he asked me a question. What’s a bar code? he said. It was really out of nowhere, and he looked as if he was trying to puzzle out something.”
“Hmm, I think I’ll wait a bit. He’ll probably show up.”
“Most likely.”
A whole other week passed and Lucas hadn’t shown up. I’d almost stopped expecting him to show up. The other kids had adapted rather quickly, almost entirely forgetting of his existence, and the other teacher’s didn’t seem to care, but there was something within me that didn’t sit right. I decided that I’d go visit his home, and see if I could get any type of answers.
And I did. I’d planned to knock on the door and speak to the parents for a bit, but when I drove by I saw that the house was abandoned. There was no windows, or a door, and from my car I could only see darkness.
What the hell?
Then, I saw him. He stood on the side of the street staring vacantly at the house. It was Lucas. The boy had the same frame, same eyes, and the same atmosphere. The only thing that was different was his hair which had been colored black.
I got out of my car and walked towards him and when he noticed me an expression of terror flashed over his face. His eyes widened and his face seemed to turn a little bit paler, although that quickly dissapeared as if it had never been there.
He stood still, staring at me as I approached him. A queasy feeling welled up as I got closer, as if I was entering that dark, abandoned house, and I stopped much further away from the boy than I was intending too. There was three meters between us.
“Hey there Lucas. Why aren’t you showing up at the kindergarden anymore?”
“Who’s Lucas?”
“What?” I said, caught of guard.
“I’m William,” he said, his voice wavering but his eyes remained stuck on me.
“Lucas stop with the jokes.”
“I’m not Lucas. I’m William, who are you? My dad told me not to speak to strangers.”
I looked at him for a bit. It was certainly Lucas, no question about it. Suddenly, a large man turned the corner into the street. He glared at me for a moment and then directed his attention towards Lucas.
“William, come over here!” He shouted, and Lucas jerked his head backwards, and then towards me, his eyes seeming to tear up for a moment, but then again, it dissapeared.
“I’m coming,” he said, and lightly jogged away from me.