Little nine year old Patrick Jane had already seen his fair share of pain and sorrow. His mother had died a few years before, his father had since turned to alcoholism to cope, and his older brother had gone off to join the Marines, unaware of the pain he had left his brother to deal with alone.
His days became a habit, one he didn't dare change up. He woke up in the morning. Early. That way he didn't have to deal with the man who lived down the hall. He would hurry to get ready and would leave for school at least an hour early. He walked slowly, but the distance of the school was only six blocks and it could only take so long. Then he just sat down to wait. And wait. And wait. Eventually the teachers would begin to show up, followed closely by the rest of the students. He would get up off the dirty ground, brush off his pants and go to class.
Sometimes he even let himself pretend he was a normal student, a normal kid. One who had a loving mother and father to make him breakfast in the morning and drive him to school, leaving him with an embarrassing kiss like he had seen other parents do. But other times it was just too painful. Too hard to remember losing his mother, losing his father, and his brother- his most amazing brother- Nathaniel leaving him too.
He would sit through class hoping for as much homework as possible so he would have something to do when he would have to return home to allow him to hide in his room without having to come up with hours' worth of things to do. The other kids would groan and complain, but he just sat there and smiled.
On his way home from school, he would take his time, passing through the apple orchard hoping to find an apple or two that had fallen from the tree so that he would have something in case he was unable to get anything at home . On those days it was too dangerous to go downstairs to the kitchen to find whatever had managed its way into the cupboards unless he waited until the early hours of the morning. Usually he could scavenge a can of something or other, or maybe, if he was lucky, a loaf of bread. But he didn't like to think of those nights.
When he finally made it back home from the orchard, he would peak cautiously through the window in hopes to find that his father was out of the house. Some days he was alright, and his dad was still out of the house, possibly even still working off the alcohol in his system from the night before in order to go out and get wasted all over again. Other days, he wasn't so lucky, but he didn't like to think about that either. That was worse than going to bed hungry. Much worse. But worst of all were the days when his dad was only on his way to being drunk. There were two reasons for that. One was he had gone to his temporary job he had somehow found, and had been fired or he had been to the bank or other various people to borrow money and they turned him down. Sometimes, on these days, he didn't want to be alive.
If his father was home and Patrick was able to sneak past him, he would go straight up into his room, shut and lock the door, and pray that his dad didn't have anything to start a fight over. If he was lucky enough to find his dad was out of the house, and he was feeling daring, he might do his homework in the living room, or even watch one of the movies he had been given before his life had turned completely upside down.
But his life really wasn't all bad. He had a few great teachers, and he loved gym. His teacher was probably one of the nicest people he had ever met (in his nine years anyway). He even had a few other kids that he played with sometimes at recess, though he wouldn't really call them friends. It was just too hard to hear all the great stories about their family and the trips they took together. He didn't mean to be like that, and he didn't know why he couldn't just be normal, but no matter how hard he tried, he would start to feel bad, and would just walk away in the middle of whatever they were playing leaving them behind shouting for him to come back like he would do sometimes in his head when he really started missing his mom.
I saw her pull up in her car and took it as my cue to stand up- just like every day. She walked up to the door, coffee mug in one hand and a bag with whatever else in the other.
She smiled at me and say, "Here already?" just like every morning.
Setting her bag onto the ground beside the main door, she grabbed two things out of her pocket. One small piece of candy, a wonderful treasure, and place it in my hand with another smile, and also her keys with which she unlocked the doors and went inside. This too was habitual, and more appreciated than she could ever know.
The day quickly passed, and before I knew it, the school day had ended. I walked to my locker, number 168, and grabbed my backpack and sweatshirt, shoving it inside. I then continued down the hallway to water fountain and gulped down a few swallows. While waiting, like always, I slid down against a wall, until all the students left so I wouldn't have to see all the other kids being picked up from school by the parents I so desperately wished I could have again. I let eyes close for a moment while dealing with the pain inside my chest that came when I thought about Mom.-
I jerked awake, mad at myself for losing control. Anything could happen when asleep. I knew that well. It must have between twenty and twenty five minutes, because the halls were empty; the last stragglers had left for the day. I stood carefully and made my way back down the hall and turned to go down another. I walked past a door that was closed, and the lights were off, but I stopped thinking I heard something coming from the inside. It sounded almost like a whimper…
I walk closer, pause again, listen, and hear it once more. Concern runs through me quickly so I look through the window into the dark room. What I see on the other side of the door shocks me; I didn't know what to do. I see one of the teachers holding a younger girl in his lap with his hand over her mouth. I can't see exactly what was going on behind the teacher's desk, but the girl is crying and shaking her head. I froze for only a moment before turning the door handle slowly, cringing when it squeaks, but the teacher doesn't seem to hear. Pushing the door open only far enough to sneak inside, I try to shut it quietly, but it is heavier than I expect and slams shut. This time the teacher does hear. The guy's eyes open and he glares at me for a moment before jumping into action. He pushes the young girl to the floor and springs across the room toward me.
"RUN!" I remember yelling as I run out the door and down the hall closely followed by the older man.
Running down some stairs and around another corner I see the front door and office. As I turn at the desk, I run straight into the principal.
"Whoa there!" he says with a joking tone, "slow down there Son!"
"But, there's, I am being chased…" I manage, out of breath, as he turns to look behind him and sees no one there.
"What do you mean? Who is chasing you?" he replies seeing the concern on my face.
"There was a teacher with a girl, she was crying and he saw me and came after me!" Jane replies in a panic.
"Do you realize what you are saying? Who was this?" asks the principal with a tone of disbelief.
"By the bathrooms upstairs! He has glasses and is short."
"Mr. Gunderson? You must have seen him with his daughter. I am sure that was all."
"No, I…I saw him hurting her!"
"Nonsense! Stop it, boy. There is no need for that kind of trouble around here! Now, head on home. Time for you to go back to your parents."
'I know what I saw…'
Unsure of what else to do, I start toward the door, but when the principal turns around and returns to his office, I run back in the direction I came from. Back up the stairs and down the hall, I stop outside the door that is closed once again, but it is locked now. I sigh in frustration. The last thing I see as I am hit from behind is the dark-haired girl laying on the floor with tears still running down her face with her hand stretched out toward me. Then I hit the floor and it's all over.
So, I had this idea at 3:00 am on a school night, but had to write it down and this is what it turned into… Let me know what you are thinking and if you think I should continue. Not sure if I will or not, depending on your opinions. All mistakes are my own. Anyway, hope you like it and thanks for reading! -M