Kindergarten Baby: A Novel (27 page)

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Authors: Cricket Rohman

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Contemporary Fiction, #Life after divorce, #Kindergarten classroom, #Fairy tale, #Pets, #Arizona desert, #Contemporary Romance

BOOK: Kindergarten Baby: A Novel
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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

As they did every morning, the children gathered around Lindsey on the rug, ready to talk. Everyone was present‌—‌with the exception of Bobby.

“Has anyone seen Bobby this morning?” Lindsey asked.

Most of the small heads shook, but two children said they thought they’d seen him right before the “going in” bell had rung. Lindsey pressed the intercom switch to speak with the office manager.

“Hi, Ms. Sally. This is Ms. Lindsey. Bobby did not come in, and several students are pretty sure they saw him on the playground. Can you have a monitor look around for him?”

“Will do, Ms. Lindsey. Oh, while we’re talking, a giant-sized package arrived for you just a couple of minutes ago. Would you like someone to bring it down?”

Just as Lindsey began to ask Sally to hold it for her till lunch, the children‌—‌who had heard the whole conversation‌—‌chimed in with their enthusiastic responses.

“Yeah! A package for a giant. Cool!” said Armando excitedly.

“We want the package! We want the package!” chanted several students.

“It could go with our fairy tale,” exclaimed Connie.

Harley’s head turned from Connie to Lindsey. “Our fairy tale this week is about a giant?”

“Maybe, Harley. Could it be, Ms. Lindsey?” questioned Emma.

Lindsey sighed, smiling. “Okay. Bring it down whenever it is convenient to do so, Ms. Sally. Somehow we will turn the large box into a teachable moment.”

Within ten minutes, Mary the monitor had dragged the box into the classroom. She also brought the news that Bobby was nowhere to be found. That was odd.

“Do you know if the office called his home?”

“Yes, Sally tried every phone number we had for his family. None of them were working.”

Lindsey’s gut told her something was very wrong. But it wasn’t as if she could call Child Protective Services based on a funny feeling. Putting those worries on hold, she turned her attention to the other twenty-five students now gathered around the box and guessing its contents.

Marvin supplied the first guess. “I bet it’s a flat screen TV.”

“No,” Emma decided. “It’s too light.”

Harley’s eyes lit up. “Maybe it’s filled with new crayons for everybody.”

“No,” said Emma, narrowing her eyes skeptically. “It’s too quiet.”

“I think it’s a pillow and a blanket so Emma can go take a nap,” Joseph said with a smirk.

That brought giggles. Emma turned toward him and put her hands on her hips, and Lindsey held her breath, waiting. “You know, Joseph, I think you might be half right.”

With relief, Lindsey clapped her hands and called the troops to order. “Back to the rug everyone. It’s time to introduce our fairy tale of the week. Then we will open the box.” She had reservations about opening an unknown, unexpected package in front of the children, but she couldn’t wait to see what was inside. She decided to try and take a peek before it was unveiled for the students to see.

The children were well versed in this procedure by now and eagerly participated in a discussion concerning the cover of the book.

“What do you notice about the cover?” Lindsey asked. This was always the open-ended first question.

“I see some bears and a little house,” stated Harley beginning the conversation.

“A burglar is sneakin’ in the door, and the stupid bears don’t even see her,” mumbled Willy, sounding as if his mouth was full of marbles. It wasn’t marbles, though. His words were blocked by a wad of gum large enough to choke him.

“Willy, please wrap that gum in a paper towel and throw it in the trash can under the sink. Marvin, would you please go with him?” asked Lindsey, knowing Willy was more apt to follow directions when there was a witness.

As she’d hoped, Willy followed the directions. Of course, he also added several steps to the process with which Marvin, willingly, participated. But when something lunged at them from the spot under the sink where the trash can should have been, they both screamed. Lindsey was by their sides in seconds, and the rest of the class followed.

“Bobby!” Lindsey cried. “What were you doing in there? Are you all right?”

The little boy wouldn’t answer‌—‌at least not with words. Staying on hands and knees, he grunted and growled, then crawled around the back of the room. The children watched, making hushed comments or just staring with shock.

“Is that really Bobby?” wondered Connie.

“What’s he doing?” Armando asked.

Willy crossed his arms. “What a dumb-ass!” he declared.

“Shut up, Willy,” shouted Joseph, seeming to notice there was a real problem going on.

Harley edged toward Lindsey and pressed against her side. “What’s wrong with Bobby?” he asked quietly.

Lindsey called Laura, asking her to stop by as soon as possible to help with Bobby. As she and the rest of the children went back to the rug area to wrap up the book cover introduction, he seemed to settle down a little. But something had definitely changed; he was different today. She decided to give him some space, but she’d also keep a constant eye on him.

“Ms. Lindsey! Ms. Lindsey!” several of the children cried, bringing her back to the moment. “The box. You said we could open it after the fairy tale!”

“Thanks for reminding me,” she lied sweetly. She’d actually hoped they would forget. No such luck.

They dragged the box to the rug area, and the students sat in a big circle around it‌—‌everyone except Bobby. He hung back at the opposite end of the classroom, but his eyes kept moving in the box’s direction. Good. Maybe his curiosity would take his mind off whatever was bothering him.

As soon as Lindsey opened one end of the box, she knew‌—‌with some relief‌—‌exactly what it was. She tugged at the object while four students pulled the box away.

“It’s huge!”

“What is it?”

“It’s a bed for a dog, silly.”

“A giant dog!”

She beamed at them in turn. “You are all correct. It is a dog bed. A very large‌—‌yes, even giant‌—‌dog bed. My dog Wendell will fit perfectly in this bed!” she said. “Turn to the person next to you and have a discussion about your dog or other pet, or a pet you’d like to have.” They did as they were told, giving her a few seconds to read the attached card.

Dear Lindsey,
I hope Wendell enjoys the bed. I thought he could use a little extra comfort while he recuperates from his injuries.
As ever, Marty

A lump rose in her throat.
Such a considerate man,
she thought. He took care of everything. Wendell’s old bed was indeed on its last legs, and this new, memory foam bed was better quality than the bed she slept in herself. Martin was such a ‘take-charge’ kind of man, and she liked that about him.
What’s next?
she wondered.

“What’s the matter, Ms. Lindsey? You look sad,” Joseph said.

“Actually,” she said softly, “I am very, very happy.”

She asked all the kindergarteners to get their Art Journals from their cubbies then find a seat. She guided them through drawing the giant dog bed and asked each one to draw something or someone in their dog bed. Even Bobby joined in this activity. In fact, he seemed to be highly engaged, even though he could not sit still. He wiggled and jiggled, but he kept on working. Lindsey smiled, observing him. Miraculously, his
terrible, horrible, very bad day
had taken a positive turn. So when Bobby asked if he could lie down on the dog bed when math time arrived, she let him.

Twenty minutes passed, and Bobby still hadn’t gotten out of the dog bed. Upon closer examination, she saw that he was asleep. He looked very peaceful‌—‌until he began to thrash around in his sleep, clawing at the air and making growling noises. She woke him and insisted that he get out of the bed and sit in a chair. Within seconds, he was back to his typical grumpy, angry, troubled self.

Laura popped in during lunch break, and Lindsey was quick to ask where she’d been when she had needed her.

“In the middle of testing. Can’t stop in the middle, you know that. What’s up?”

Lindsey ran through the events of the morning as Laura sat wide-eyed, listening intently.

“Your new boyfriend bought Wendell a bed? Wow. He sounds like a keeper. And I suppose that’s it over there?” she asked, standing to get a closer look. “What’s the red stuff on it?”

“Red stuff?” she frowned, following Laura. “There’s nothing red on it. It’s solid tan to match Wendell’s fur.”

“Well, there is now. And I think it might be blood. Did one of your darlings have a bloody nose today? Crusty boogers, maybe?”

Lindsey felt a little ill when she remembered back to the sleeping child. Blood? “No, but Bobby slept in it.”

“I’m not even going to ask you how you let that happen. Did you see his journal work? What did he draw? Did he write anything?”

“I haven’t had a chance to look yet. We just finished math and the kids went to lunch.”

The two women stared in horror at Bobby’s journal. He had drawn a boy‌—‌probably himself‌—‌curled up in a dog bed. Exaggerated tears fell from his eyes, and small sticks poked out from his back and hips. He had scribbled red over the drawing of himself, made the dog bed blue, and the rest of the picture was pure black. The only words he attempted to write were,
BAD DOG BAD DOG BAD DOG.

“Maybe he used U of A Wildcat colors. You know, red and blue,” Lindsey tried, looking desperately for a bright side.

But her friend’s expression was anything but encouraging. “Uh…‌I don’t think so. I think we’d better go find him and take him to the nurse. I’m pretty sure you’ll be making that CPS call today.

***

Bobby looked very little, sitting on the cot in the nurse’s office. Laura and Lindsey managed to escort him from the cafeteria without incident‌—‌at least without anything major. A few kicks to the wall and a spattering of bad words were nothing unusual for Bobby.

“What’s everybody starin’ at?” he asked the three women. “Am I sick? Do I have to go home?”

“Probably not, Bobby,” Lindsey said, her voice gentle. “But after you had your nap on the dog bed, we found some blood on it. We just want to make sure you are okay.”

“That’s right, Bobby,” Lucy, the health assistant added. “Do you have any cuts, bumps, or bruises you could show us?”

“No,” said Bobby, then yanked the bottom of his T-shirt tightly over his hips.

Lindsey could see panic building in the little boy’s eyes. She had no choice. “We have to look, Bobby. It’s our job to check students and make sure they’re all right. I won’t even touch you. All you need to do is lift up your shirt.”

Bobby had gone pale and was shaking his head wildly. “No! No!” he cried. “I can’t let anyone see it. Nobody gets to see it but me and dad. If you see it, he’ll make another word,” he shouted hysterically, scooting under the cot.

Dad?
Lindsey had never seen ‘Dad,’ and Bobby hadn’t mentioned him since that one and only time last fall when he’d drawn a picture of his dad staying home with him because they were both sick. Thoughts of calling CPS had nagged at her since then. Was there really a dad in the home? Only the mom and the grandma‌—‌mostly grandma, actually‌—‌ever had any contact with the school. She made a mental note to recheck the boy’s cum file and birth certificate as soon as her students left for the day.

Mrs. Wilson walked into the health office in time to see and hear enough to justify the next steps. “Well, ladies,” she said quietly to the adults, “we are about to break the rules a tiny bit, but I don’t see that we have a choice. Lindsey, you have the best relationship with this little boy, so you coax him out from under the cot. Laura, you have the most experience holding or restraining students, so once you can reach him, do your thing, and I will move his clothing just enough so we can see what needs to be done. Lucy, stand by for whatever may happen. Ready?” They all nodded.

Lindsey’s heart raced with dread. “Here we go.”

Bobby screamed and thrashed at first. Then he stood perfectly, eerily still, stiff as a statue, as if he were bracing himself so he wouldn’t fall down. His eyes deadened, becoming glossy as he stared at the wall with a faraway, detached look. Mrs. Wilson lifted the front of his black T-shirt, but they saw nothing unusual there. But when they turned him around and pulled up the back of his shirt, Bobby crumpled to the floor. The four women gasped in shock, and Lindsey’s eyes filled with hot tears.

Words had been carved into the little boy’s back; most of the cuts were scabbed over. They weren’t deep cuts that would have required sutures, but they were deep enough that they bled, scabbed, scarred, and left bloody spots on a dog bed. Lindsey could only imagine the levels of pain Bobby had gone through, not to mention the fear, confusion, and humiliation he must feel now.

Mrs. Wilson took charge, speaking in a hushed, calm voice. “Call 9-1-1, Lucy. We need a police officer here ASAP.” As she spoke, she moved more clothing aside, revealing the lower half of Bobby’s body.

“Oh my God,” Lindsey and Laura silently mouthed.

More words. The same words, really, but an alternate means of imprinting the words on soft, innocent skin had been used. The words BAD DOG carved into his back were horrific enough. Now they saw the words where they’d been burnt into the skin of his tiny bottom, probably with cigarettes. One side of his bottom said BAD, and the other said DOG.

So many aspects of Bobby’s behavior suddenly made sense, and Lindsey’s heart broke for the little boy. She had to wonder which was worse: the physical pain or the emotional pain. Both would stay with him for a very long time.

She guided Bobby gently toward her so that he stood by her, next to the cot. She placed loving and gentle hands on his waist. “Bobby, do you know what the words say?”

“Uh-huh. Bad dog,” he whispered.

“Why do they say that?”

“’Cause I’ve been a bad dog all my life,” he said, matter-of-fact. His voice had lost all trace of the grumpy, complaining child from her classroom. He was a completely different boy, and Lindsey wanted to gather this new, damaged child in her arms, comfort him. “That’s why I sleep in a dog bed in the garage. Your dog has a way better bed than me. He’s so lucky. I have my own dog dish, too.”

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