I sat on the floor of my kindergarten classroom with my back against the wall. My knees were pulled tightly up against my chest and I could see the shiny polished bright pink surface of my bare toes poking out from underneath my long skirt. I imagined the happy, eager faces of the 15 little ones in my class, sitting in a circle smiling up at me. They had long since departed from school. Well, that is, 14 of them had departed. One of them, Lucas Yoder, was noticeably absent today. I tried to breathe in, but I couldn't, my chest was tight. I could feel the tears burning in my eyes. I had been teaching kindergarten for 10 years, five of them here in this well regarded private school in New York. In the entire decade I had been teaching, nothing as horrible as this had ever happened to any of the children in my classroom. I placed my forehead against my knees and closed my eyes.
I had no idea how long I'd been sitting there, hugging myself as I leaned against the wall, when I heard my classroom door open. I assumed it was my principal, Noah Lawson, coming to check on me, to send me home. When whoever entered had not said anything, I realized that it probably wasn't Noah. I looked up to find two very tall men in suits were looking down at me.
"Mrs. Royer?" asked the one with the dark hair and light eyes." Detectives Logan and Goren, NYPD." He continued, and they both flashed their badges. I assumed he was Logan, since he presented his name first. I watched the one named Goren start to slowly move around my classroom, looking at the children's artwork on the walls, the names pasted to the tables identifying where they sat, the treasures given to me by the children proudly displayed on my desk. He would pause every so often. I watched him and each time he came across Lucas Yoder's artwork, he would pause and examine it more closely. He moved on toward my desk and picked up picture of an airplane soaring through a sunny sky that Lucas had drawn me and proudly signed.
"Yes." I looked back at Detective Logan, letting him know that I was Ms. Royer.
"We have a few questions about one of your students," Detective Logan offered, pulling out a small pad of paper and twiddling his pen in his right hand. I watched the movements of the pen, almost hypnotized by the simplicity of the back and forth.
"Yes," I said the word again, my eyes shifting back to Goren, who had returned to the wall of art that I had updated last week. He had his head cocked to one side and his left hand lifted to run his fingers across the images my students had created of a hot air balloon race. The children's drawings were from a book we were reading about hot air balloons. Each masterpiece was artfully designed on colorful pieces of paper. Some of the children had used crayons, some magic markers, and some were rendered with the bright colors of paint.
"Lucas Yoder." Logan supplied the name. I could feel my lips quiver, so I pressed them together. I could feel my hands start to tremble, so I dropped them to my sides. I needed to stand up, otherwise, I was going to sit like a lump on the floor and start to weep for Lucas Yoder. So, I moved to pushed myself to standing. Detective Logan automatically gave me a hand up. "Mrs. Royer," Logan said, his voice soft. He could see that I was upset. Hell, someone in Alaska could probably see that I was upset.
"Detective Logan." I said his name. "Please, call me Lynne. Mrs. Royer is my mother." I don't know why I said that, the Mrs. seemed to age me and imply that I was married. I was neither particularly old, nor was I married. I meant the words to be light in tone, perhaps humorous. Inappropriate humor under stress is kind of a thing with me. But my words fell flat and sounded more sorrowful than humorously snarky.
"We have a few questions about Lucas Yoder," he repeated the words to me as I paced away to look out the window.
"Ok." I whispered, touching the window. I could see the sky changing to evening colors. I waited for his questions, but strangely none came. I couldn't tell if he was giving me a moment to collect myself or if he was waiting to see if I would simply start chattering nonsensically, spilling all of the random thoughts that were shooting through my brain concerning what led up to what happened to Lucas. I managed to not unload my every thought. I turned to look back at him, bracing myself for his questions.
"I understand you met with the principal this past Friday and expressed concerns about the possible abuse of Lucas Yoder." Logan jumped in with both feet. I noticed distractedly that Detective Goren was now sitting in my chair behind my desk, poking through my belongings. My eyes lingered on Goren for a moment, contemplating his strange almost halting mannerisms. He seemed completely unaware that his behavior was a bit bizarre. I was mildly annoyed that this large detective should be sitting in my space, examining my things. All of this police attention was about 24 hours too late to help Lucas Yoder.
"Yes, I met with Mr. Lawson," I said and turned my eyes back to Detective Logan.
"Could you tell me a bit about your conversation with Mr. Lawson" Logan stated in a leading way.
"I'm sorry, um, I just…" I closed my eyes, placing my fingers on the bridge of my nose, squeezing to relieve the pressure.
"Take your time," Logan placated.
"On Friday, Lucas spilled paint down the front of his shirt. He wasn't wearing one of the smocks…" I kept my eyes closed. "The paint, it was blue, Lucas loved blue, he loved the sky. He loved the idea of flying. He was always drawing birds, balloons, airplanes, everything soaring through the air. So peaceful, you know?" I opened my eyes and sighed, filling my lungs with air, trying to organize my thoughts. "So, I um, you know, had to change his shirt, the blue paint, it was all down the front. I got his clean shirt from his cubby and we went to the sink to get cleaned up. I took off his shirt, and I…" I found myself looking at the small sink in the corner. I vividly remembered standing there with Lucas.
"Ms. Royer." I jumped at the sound of Detective Goren. I was unaware that he had moved from behind my desk. He was now standing beside me, following my line of vision, as if he was trying to see what I was seeing, what I was remembering. Goren was saying my name, imploring me to continue.
"I just, um." I mumbled to myself. "Maybe, we could, uh, step out into the hall." I needed to leave the classroom. Too many images of my smiling, playing kindergartners were filling my mind, too many images of Lucas Yoder laughing and leaning in to share secrets with his friends.
I was out the door before I gave the detectives a chance to respond. I walked quickly down the hall and pushed through the double doors out into the courtyard. I breathed in the cold outside air. My feet were bare, the cold cement chilled my skin. The detectives were right behind me.
"He had bruises on his upper arms, on his ribs. I could see the fingerprint shapes in the bruises, I could see in his eyes that he was ashamed. I smiled at him and put on his clean shirt. I kissed him on the temple and told him it was OK. But you know, he knew it wasn't Ok because I told him he could go finish painting. He knew that I should've reminded him to wear a smock. He knew that normally he would not have been able to finish his painting because he had broken the rules about wearing the goddamned smock." I shuddered, struggling for a breath.
"Ms. Royer…" Detective Logan started to say something, but I cut him off. Adrenaline was storming my senses. I rounded to face both of them.
"Where the hell were you? You're both standing here with your useless damned questions. Friday was full of useless questions and useless paperwork. USELESS!" I yelled the word, and I was yelling it at myself as much I was yelling it at them. "Where were you when he needed you?" My voice was broken and hoarse, and even though I shouted the words at Detective Logan, it was Detective Goren that looked like he had just been slapped.
