Chapter 4: Hidden, Forbidden but Unremembered
John's body clock woke him up at exactly five in the morning.
Bleary eyes blinked, adjusting to the purple tones of light and darkness. He immediately sat up to prevent succumbing back to the sandman's spell. A farmer always had a long day ahead of him and he got no time to waste.
His mind immediately goes to its to-do list despite the remaining sleepy haze. The tractor needed to have its oil change. But first, the cows have to run around the barn to keep warm. Roney would be coming by later to get the last load of vegetables. He must have been thinking loudly that his wife stirred beside him.
"'Morning, hon," said a voice, croaky from sleep.
John grunte-
"MAMA! PAPA!"
A squeezing sound could be heard from the door and with a "Pop!" four-year old Roger appeared.
Before both could comprehend what was going on, a little body was bouncing on the bed, shaking them to full consciousness.
"First day of school! First day of school!"
John immediately got out of bed to avoid getting sick. But all that energy squeezed in Roger's small, fluffy being made the bed bounce so hard, Diane found herself bouncing along.
"Roger!" she laughed as she sat up. Diane held out her arms and caught his weight equivalent to a basket full of chocolate Easter eggs.
A smile tugged on John's mouth. Having a surname like Rabbit wasn't easy, especially when you're a farmer. John worked hard to be taken seriously and often faced the world with the same softness of a rock.
But as the sun's first rays lit the room, it seemed like their son had taken along the sunshine with him to wake them up.
"Today's the day, right? I'm going to school, right?" he asked excitedly, eyes bright and fluffy tail swishing.
Diane exchanged the brief glance with her husband before lifting Roger up with a smile. "Yes, dear." Their son had even dressed himself up today in a red shirt and blue shorts. Since he never liked shoes, they gave up trying to make him wear one.
Their son gave an exhilarated giggle when she tossed him up. "You're going to nursery school today!" she said, rubbing her nose affectionately on his.
"C'mon-c'mon-c'mon-C'MON!" little Roger exclaimed, hopping off her arms to drag her down the stairs.
Laughing, Diane dug down her heels before Roger would become a blur with her in tow. It happened to John once and he had to lie down for half an hour to get over the shock.
"Go to the kitchen, honey. We'll be there soon," she said, plopping him outside the bedroom door.
With a whoop, their little son streaked into the kitchen with a resounding zoom.
Diane casted a glance to John over her shoulder. His mouth was set into a determined line and she knew he can see the worried lines creasing her face.
"It's going to be fine," he said.
She nodded, tying on a bathrobe over her nightgown. "Yes, it will."
Whoever they were trying to convince, they weren't sure.
XOXOXOXOXOXO
Roger's face was plastered against the car window.
"Honey, you're going to flatten your nose," his mother's singsong voice speaks up from the passenger seat.
Roger peeled his face off the window with a "Pop!" and squirmed excitedly on his seat.
Last week, Ma had announced that he's going to school.
"What's a school?" he had asked.
His Ma beamed so it must be something good. "It's a place where you can sing nursery rhymes, fingerpaint and play all day with the other kids! Wouldn't that be fun?"
Roger bounced lively at the thought that the couch squeaked and strained. He nodded vigorously at the memory. He loved fun.
Their car screeched into a halt next to a small wooden house. Roger's eyes widen at the multitude of kids running and screeching and laughing in the grassy yard.
They all got out and Ma took his hand.
A wave of nervousness swept over him at this strange new world as they walked inside the building.
John held his head high against the stares of both parents and children. Some were stopping at what they're doing to watch them –or particularly…
"Roger," Diane said, "remember, If you need anything; just asked the teacher. She's a lady who will be with you and your classmates all day." Diane stroked his hair for moment as he looked around with wide-eyed wonder.
"Yes, Ma," he replied politely, oblivious to the stares he was gathering.
They went inside and turned to a corridor crowded with parents and children around Roger's age.
Roger's ears perked at the sound of singing. A child laughed at the sight of his cottontail swishing happily.
"You must be Mr. and Mrs. Rabbit."
A lady walked towards them. She looked down on a piece of paper she was holding and ticked it off with her pen. She shook hands with Diane and John.
"Call me Diane," Diane said warmly, "And this is John."
"I'm Claire, your son's teacher."
Internally, Claire braced herself. It was obvious who they are at a single glance.
Three weeks ago, she was informed of a special case. She had heard of a toon living near town but she never believed it. After all, a radio program said they were kept somewhere where they rightfully belong.
She kneeled down on one knee. "And this must be…" her face became confused when the toon rabbit suddenly disappeared.
Blue eyes tentatively crept up to meet hers from behind Mrs. Rabbit's legs. Two long ears swished over his head. There was a faint smell of what she could comprehend was a cocktail of paint, cinnamon and carrots.
"Hello," a small voice said. Diane gently pushed him up front and he slowly came out from his hiding, shuffling his floppy feet. His blue eyes smiled shyly up to her through large, swishy ears. "I'm Roger!"
She had to stop herself from melting over the living stuffed toy.
"He rarely gets to meet other people," Diane explained apologetically.
Claire nodded. Big surprise in there.
"Well, Roger" she brightly said. "Want to sing some songs with the other kids?"
Based on her experience, there were two kinds of kids. The ones who cry and refused to be moved and the ones who were brave enough to go with a friendly stranger after some coaxing from the parents.
But the little rabbit beamed like a sun and before she knew it, he had hugged and kissed his parents and dragged her inside the nursery room.
Claire stood with her limp hand connected to a bouncing kit, trying to comprehend how the world had blurred for a moment.
Gathering her wits, Claire gently pushed him to the throng of kids gathered around Brit, another teacher. Some of the kids looked at him curiously but Brit tapped her stick, getting back their attention.
"Alright kids! Who here knows Mary had a Little Lamb?"
Amidst the yells of confirmation, Clair looked back to the door. The parents lingered to watch but most were already leaving.
She took a deep breath. The supervisor had especially summoned her to tell her one clear order: Keep an eye on the toon.
Frankly, she wondered why the rabbit was allowed in the town's White school in the first place.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
You have to be extra-patient as a teacher, Brit knew that. But it was also fun.
First, you have to show them how to sing the song. Sometimes, a line had to be repeated again and again in a loud, lilting voice to attract their little ears.
"Who knows the song, 'Do your ears hang low?'"
"Meeeee!" the children screamed.
"Okay, let's sing it!"
The air was soon colored with voices singing with gusto. Those who didn't know the song immediately caught on with the song's tune and simple lyrics.
When Brit was sure they know the song, she quieted them down.
"Okay, I want you to grab your ears –do your ears hang," she unclasp her ears and waved them down in front of her, "low?"
She waved her hands from side to side, "Do they waggle to and fro?"
"Can you tie them," she rotated her arms around each other before pulling them apart, "In a knot?"
She repeated the movements, "Can you tie them in a bow?"
"Let's do that one more time," she said to the throng of children.
"Tie them in a knot." The children swirled their arms and pulled them apart.
"Tie them in a bow!" she exclaimed in approval as the children repeated on cue.
"Can you throw them o'er your shoulder," she pretended throwing her ears over her shoulder. "Like a regimental soldier?" she sang with a salute. "Everybody salute like a soldier."
She grabbed her ears. "Do your ears hang," she threw her arms down, "low?"
Brit beamed at them. "That's very simple enough. We can all do that, can we?"
"Yeah!" the children chorused.
"Alright! Let's sing it!"
Meanwhile, Roger looked curiously at his ears, holding them at length. The song was a bit new to him.
The little tots sang with great enthusiasm, copying her movements upon her cues.
"Do your ears hang low?
Do they waggle to and fro?
Can you tie them in a knot?
Can you tie them in a bow?"
Roger bounced along with the melody, doing the actions while holding his ears. His voice soon joined in harmony with the children's voices.
Can you put them over your shoulder like a regimental soldier?
Do your ears hang low?"
Brit clapped in approval. "One more time!"
Roger beamed back among the kids, catching on with the song that was now sang with a faster tempo.
One by one, the singing children curiously turned around to a more rhapsodic voice.
"Do your ears hang low?
Do they waggle through and fro?"
Roger sang as he stretched his ears down, then it snapped up to wave in the air.
"Can you tie them in a knot?"
Roger's ears twisted together before tying into a ribbon on top of his head.
"Can you tie them in a bow?"
The children laughed. Feeling something swelling inside him, he tossed his ears backwards and marched in place before thrusting his chest with a salute.
"Can you put them over your shoulder like a regimental soldier?"
"Do your ears hang low?" the children sang back.
Brit was about to quiet them down but the children who knew the second verse continued to sing, their eyes on Roger.
"Do your ears stand high?
Do they reach up to the sky?"
Encouraged, Roger grinned and his ears cocked higher.
XOXOXOXOXOXO
Claire sighed as she strode through the corridor back to the Nursery Room. It was hard to use children's bathroom for having such low stools, she'd rather use the one found in the far end of the school for faculties.
The teachers who were in the ladies' room tried to get something out of her concerning her toon ward. But she just waved them off; she had enough on her plate regarding the supervisor's order. So far, nothing unusual had happened.
Happy voices singing with zest creeped out of the closed door. Nothing out of ordinary.
She opened the door for a not-so-ordinary sight to welcome her.
"Do your ears stick out?
Can you waggle them about?"
The children were festively singing and acting the song. In the midst of it all was the little toon, zipping and zooming and bouncing over their heads and everywhere –he almost turned into a pack of rabbits. Her eyes widen when his ears dance along like another pair of arms.
"Can you flap them up and down
As you fly around the town?"
The children trilled their delight when the rabbit was momentarily lifted up by his flapping ears. He bounced back singing. His arms gestured up and down to the bouncing children like a maestro as they sing along, infected by his energy.
"Can you shut them up for sure
When you hear an awful bore?
Do your ears stick out?"
Both grown-ups startled when a fiddle began to play along with their singing. They looked around in alarm before realizing the music was coming from the very rabbit himself like a radio.
But the children only laughed in delight as they flung their arms in melodious enactment. They all sang in gleeful harmony with Roger as the eye of the ever-growing storm of music and energy.
"Do your ears hang low?
Do they waggle to and fro?
The rabbit began to doo-wop along with the song. Claire wondered if Roger's parents were part of a closet glee club.
Can you tie them in a knot?
Can you tie them in a bow?
"Yeah!" the baby rabbit exclaimed, spinning on the spot. Merry voices sang on with fervor.
Can you throw them o'er your shoulder
Like a regimental soldier?
"Yesiree!"
Do your ears hang low?"
Claire and Brit got over their shock when the children collapsed, laughing. Some are still bouncing and holding their ears.
Then they all broke into an applause.
Roger stared at them with wonder as a glow began to warm him in the inside.
Their smiles, their laughter, all directed at him was changing something, turning him into something.
It was like the sun dawning inside his mind. A summer breeze lifting the kite higher and higher. The discovery of carrot cake in his taste buds.
The glow spread through him, lifting the corners of his mouth into a wide smile at the warm ovation.
He never felt so alive.
Claire watched as the little rabbit beamed and opened his arms wide as though to hug them all. Knowing toons, she'd rather not risk it.
"Break time, kids!"
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
The children sat on tiny chairs and tables.
Roger happily munched on his apple. He loved school. They even give milk.
His eyes went to the children gathered on one table across the room. He looked around, realizing he was alone on his table. The teacher had ushered him here on the table on the corner.
When he said he wanted to sit with the others, the teacher said this was his special table. It felt a bit lonely but it's okay. The teacher said they can play after Break Time.
After eating polishing the rest of his apple, Roger went for the shelves. They even got a lot of toys.
He pulled out a box full of wooden blocks. At home, Ma always helped him build castles and towers. He concentrated in piling them as high as he could.
"You're a rabbit."
Roger turned at the voice. A little girl was looking at him while holding a doll. He gave her a big grin.
"I'm Roger Rabbit!"
The little girl frowned. "Rabbits don't go to school."
He looked at her in confusion. "I'm in school."
A little boy clutching a toy train soon joined them. "How come you've got long ears?"
Roger beamed. He knew the answer to that one.
"Because I was born thi –aahh!"
The little boy had suddenly yanked one of his ears.
"Hey! He's stretchy!" he exclaimed, getting the attention of the other children.
Feeling both curious and envious, the little girl tugged his other ear.
"Hey!" Roger protested.
But more of them grabbed his arms, pulling him apart.
"He is stretchy!"
"Wow, he's so furry!"
"I wanna touch him!"
"Grab his leg!"
"Me first!"
"He's so fluffly, I'm gonna die!"
"The tail's mine!"
"Aaaauugghh!"
Claire who had been busy taking care of a tot with a nosebleed, raised her head at the commotion. She gasped at the sight of the rabbit being stretched almost to the four corners of the room among the pulling, yanking children.
"Kids! Let go of the toon!"
Her voice boomed. Surprised, the children let him go. Unfortunately, one kid was a little too late to let him go and Roger flung towards him like a rubber band.
"Oof!"
The boy got knocked down on the ground. But Roger sped past, still burning with momentum. He bounced against the wall to the ceiling and ricochet everywhere like a bullet.
The children screamed when he blast near their heads. Chairs and tables were knocked down and up-ended, vases shattered and the cabinet crashed at his inertia.
He finally rolled on the floor, stars swirling around his head. He shook his head and the stars disappeared to reveal a shocked audience before him.
He looked around at the broken vases, the scattered children's furniture and the messed-up posters on the wall.
He caught the wide-eyed fear of the teacher as she clutched some of the huddling kids.
A wail broke out. Followed by another, wanting to hug the teacher. One child shouted.
"Bad rabbit! Get out of here!"
Fear gripped him there. The air was thick with it. The room was filled with glares and tears.
"Yeah!"
An eraser board flew at him; he dodged as toys, trash and anything they can reach hurtled towards him.
In blind panic amidst the shouting and the throwing, Roger turned tail and ran.
Right through the wall.
XOXOXOXOXOXO
It all happened in less than ten seconds.
CRASH!
Principal Briggins startled out of his incoming nap.
"What in tarnation-"
Screams can be heard outside. He hurried to his window and gasped.
The explosion hadn't yet settled when a bur streaked across the playground.
Little children scattered everywhere as the blur hit a swing seat and dragged the whole swing set along with ease, harrowing deep gashes on the ground.
He could only watch helplessly when the blur slipped between the slide's ladder and the slide.
The swing set did not.
CRASH!
Hands cupped his ears at the tremendous clash. More children screamed. But the blur even went faster as it hit the wooden fence.
Splinters flew everywhere as the blur, swing set and slide crashed through it.
The blur finally slipped through the chains of the swing set and disappeared into a meadow.
Mouth hanging open, hair suddenly disheveled; Principal Briggins could only stare at the chaos before him.
XOXOXOXOXOXOX
"Doggone it, John! This is the reason why I don't want him in the school in the first place!"
Roger sat, white as sheet in his mother's arms. They were inside the car. But Roger could hear a truck coming from north-west-west a mile away. He could hear a mouse sneeze to the east in the meadow. Three building from the school's left; he could hear clinking dishes and running water.
He could definitely hear a man's voice along with his father's inside the building.
"He was scared, Tom! That teacher should have been looking after the children better!"
"He was scared? He was SCARED? What about the other children, John?! Jeezuz! Do you think they got scared?!"
Roger's lip trembled, feeling worse than before. He curled against Ma tighter.
Had he been bad?
He had been bad. He was sure of it.
The man sighed and Roger can feel the stress on that exhale.
"Look, it happened. The parents will NOT be happy."
"My son has the right-"
"Do you know what will happen if they found out your kid blasted through a wall, two playground properties and a fence?" the man interrupted. "Everyone thought there was a bombshell!"
There was a squeaking noise like cloth on glasses.
"There would be a scare, John. Out of the kids' mouths and those parents would be marching in, demanding to have your son removed. Be thankful nobody got hurt with his blast. There were children playing outside when it happened."
Silence met the man's words before Pa spoke.
"If he can control it, it won't happen again. We'll make sure of it."
"If," the man interjected, the stress sounding out the punctuation marks. "I only agreed to this because you're my friend, alright? You're lucky I got this place insured. If you really want your son to be schooled, transfer him to the one for Coloreds."
Roger could hear Pa ground his teeth. "I scouted it, I hated it. Their facility is lacking at the most."
Roger sank lower in Ma's arms. He's in trouble, he knew it.
"Look," Pa's voice said. "If he can control it, can he go back here? I just want the best for him."
The man's voice turned cold. "If you want the best for him, you should have returned him back to ToonTo-"
"Shut it," Pa growled.
Roger whimpered at the threatening sound, burying his face in Ma's neck.
XOXOXOXOXOXO
The drive back home was a silent one.
Diane looked worriedly over her shoulder. Roger was hunched over his seat; ears drooped down to their lowest point. He had always been a sensitive boy.
She looked at her husband whose hard eyes were steady on the road. She never told John but she could tell Roger could palpate other people's emotions. He could even tell her when one of their farm animals were sick, satisfied or pregnant based if they were happy or sad.
Even behind John's stoic mask, she knew their son could sense his mood.
The problem was he wouldn't know why.
She reached out to Roger with a comforting hand. He looked up.
Diane smiled at him. It's not your fault, honey.
Her baby gave her a weak smile before retracting back to his own world.
When they reached the house, she led him to the kitchen for some homemade chocochip cookies and milk.
John went to his study and didn't come down until dinner time.
XOXOXOXOXOXO
Roger sat on his bedroom floor, playing with his toys. His "beddy" bear was a cowboy and he's about to chase down the bad guys.
Bad guys.
Had he been bad?
"Son?"
He looked up to see Ma and Pa on the doorway. Pa sat on his bed and patted the space beside him. Roger immediately scrambled on the spot and Ma sat on his other side.
"You won't be going to school for a while," Pa said.
Roger felt himself relaxed at those words. He didn't think he could face them tomorrow.
"There's a fire," Pa continued, "and it would need to die down."
Roger nodded although he didn't see any fire. "Okay."
"Hey, honey," Ma said softly, "do you want to know a new song?"
His ears perked up. "A song?"
"Yes, dear. It's actually a nursery rhyme. Your father made it."
"Sure!"
His father took a deep breath. "Okay, Roger. Repeat after me."
XOXOXOXOXOXO
Diane watched Roger as he skip rope. He bounced more than twice his height while singing; the rope rotated several times before he touches the ground.
"Whatever comes up must go down
No one blurs when they run around the town
No living thing can bounce like a ball
No living thing can survive a fall
No big thing can fit in small
It will hurt when you run on a wall
All of these are impossible!"
"What's the matter, honey?" John asked, standing beside her.
She sighed. "I don't know, John. I feel like we're cutting off a part of him."
John squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, his jaw tight. "It's the only way he could stay with us, Diane."
Roger's school incident had spread in town like wildfire. Many have went to school to see the damages caused by a tiny toon.
Days passed by. The rhyme's catchy tune made Roger sing it over and over again. Time goes by as the rhyme took heart.
His bounces become lower and lower.
One day, he could only jump as high as any little boy could.
Roger ran, tugging John along, no longer a blur.
"Papa?" Roger asked in confusion at his father's sad face.
But John only shook his head. "Nothing, son. What is it that you're going to show me?"
Life goes on and they have him home-schooled, mainly by Diane.
John and Diane deliberately threw all their magazines with toons with it. They avoided tuning the radio with programs about toons. The town's newspaper, thankfully, have no comic strips.
Since most shopowners wouldn't allow coloreds or Roger into their shops, Roger never risked seeing a comic book.
When a theater house was built in town, they didn't let Roger go with them when they know a cartoon short was showing.
Roger's incident was never mentioned again.
And Roger never remembered.
XOXOXOXOXOXO
Roger woke up with a gasp.
Go to the bathroom. Now.
Heart pounding.
Breathe rapid.
Not again.
He scrambled out of the hammock. In the darkness, he could see Wile still and sleeping.
Not here.
Not here.
Straight into the safety of the bathroom, he locked the door.
Roger leaned against it and slowly slid down the floor, hugging his shaking frame.
Gasping, he tried to control his breathing.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
His heart was pounding painfully against his chest.
Fear was clutching him, making it hard to breathe; choking him.
Roger bit down on his ear, focusing on the pain, grounding him to reality.
It's not real.
It's not real.
There's nothing there.
His chest rose and lowered as he fought for control.
Eyes started to sting.
Fear. Confusion. Fear. His eyes widen, refusing to close. If he did, he'd see the dark abyss inside his soul, consuming him.
Teeth bit down harder on his ear.
Shut down.
Shut down.
It's the only way to make it stop.
Numb. Think numb.
The overwhelming fear was there again. Like a person standing too close behind you. He shivered.
Wide eyes become blank. Knees started to ache against the cold tiles. One hand on his chest, he raised the other, looking at his shaking hand.
Not again.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXO
Author's Notes: John doesn't know it but he had applied a mind-control technique on Roger: whatever is repeated again and again becomes a commonly held belief. The phenomenon is called memory distortion. A chant can even block the analytical part of the brain, forcing it to accept the chant's message.
I hate to say it, but according to my research, color segregation was strong during Roger's time. So yeah, the teacher meant well, but she's also a racist. It's just how it is.
