by Erin Huss
“Uh …” I don’t feel like talking about Mike’s vision. So I don’t. “It’s all fuzzy right now. We do need to figure this out soon. Very soon. Like within the next couple of hours, soon.”
“Got it.” I can hear him typing on his keyboard. “How did she die?”
“We don’t know the cause of death.” Oh! I’m struck with an idea. “Russell was in Fernn Valley not long ago at Butter with Mrs. Batch. Can you tell me if he’s still there?”
“I’m on my way. I’ll call you back.”
“Thank you, Brian.” I tap my Bluetooth to disconnect the call and continue down the hall, cautiously approaching the group. I realize that I need to be careful. These boys are all underage strangers, and none of them can see Elijah’s mom currently chastising him.
“I have raised you better than this.” Connie tries to tug on Elijah’s arm. “How dare you bully this poor boy. How would you feel if someone were doing this to you?”
“I’m not bullying him,” Elijah grunts and jerks his head around with a startled look. “Who are you?”
I check over my shoulder to make sure he’s talking to me and see that we’re alone. Well, alone, as in no other living adults. “My name is Zoe. I’m a friend of your mother.”
He scrunches his nose. “Are you talking to her?” He points to my Bluetooth.
“Uh, yes, I am in communication with her.”
The smaller boy with his back plastered against the locker starts to sidestep away, and Elijah snaps around. “You don’t go anywhere,” he warns.
“Elijah, stop that right now.” Connie stomps her foot. “You do not talk to this poor boy like that. Let him go.”
“He’s not a poor boy.” Elijah rolls his eyes.
His two friends standing behind him share a look.
“Tell him, Zoe.” Connie is now at my ear. “Please tell him to stop this. He’s harassing this poor child. He’s better than this.”
“I’m not harassing anyone!” Elijah throws his hands up in the air, and the smaller boy takes off running down the hall. “Oh, come on, man!” He turns to me. “Tell my mom to get off my back.”
“She is not on your back,” I say.
Well, technically she sort of is right now. She’s standing behind him wagging her finger. “No bikes, no games, no sleepovers, and no phone for a whole month.”
Elijah jerks around and nearly smacks his friends with his giant backpack. Geez. These middle schoolers must all have back problems.
“For reals, what’s going on, Elijah?” one friend asks. He has a squeaky voice, and he’s wearing wire-rimmed glasses and a Nike shirt.
Elijah shakes his head as if waking from a dream and unhooks his backpack. “I’m calling my dad.” He unzips the front pocket and pulls out a phone.
“Aha,” says Connie almost triumphantly. “I knew you snuck your phone to school. How many times have we talked about this?”
“Oh, my gosh, seriously. We can use our phone after school,” Elijah groans.
“No one said you couldn’t have your phone, bro,” says his other friend. He too has a squeaky voice, and he’s also wearing wire-rimmed glasses and a Nike shirt. I’m thinking these two friends might be twins.
“Your father does not have his phone on him,” I say. “He forgot it this morning.”
Elijah gives me an incredulous look. “I know. He texted me from my great granny Batch’s phone and told me to go home with James and John.”
So they are twins.
“Right. You’re going home with James and John,” I repeat, for no apparent reason other than to buy time. I’m not exactly sure what I can do in this situation.
“Uh … who are you again?” he asks. “'Cause my mom doesn’t have friends.”
“I have friends,” Connie says. “I don’t spend as much time with them because I’m busy with you and your father and my practice.”
Elijah jerks his head again and waves his hand as if he’s swatting away a tiny insect, when really it’s his mother in his face expressing her disappointment.
James and John laugh. Elijah does look ridiculous, and I’d hate for him to be embarrassed in front of his friends.
“I love your Tik dance,” I say. “It’s super cool.”
Now everyone is gawking at me, including Connie.
“Thanks,” says Elijah with his eyes narrowed. “Yeah, cool, I’m gonna go.”
“Don’t go,” I say in a panic. “Uh … uh …” I give Connie a helpless look and mouth password. Obviously, her son can hear her, and obviously it would be a little creepy to ask an eleven-year-old what his father’s password is.
“Elijah, honey, we need to know Dad’s passcode for his phone and computer,” says Connie. “This is important.”
Elijah is so conflicted he does a double take in Connie’s direction and squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. It’s in his memory. 3-1-9-0.
Russell and Connie’s anniversary, but backwards. This is good. You wouldn’t commemorate your anniversary as your password if you planned to kill your wife, right?
My phone rings, and the little light on my Bluetooth flashes.
“I thought my mom was on the phone with you?” Elijah says.
“Uh … she hung up. This must be her.” I tap the Bluetooth. “Hello, Connie?”
“I got him.” It’s Brian, and he’s whispering because apparently no one is allowed to use his or her normal speaking voice today.
“Don’t go anywhere,” I say to Elijah and turn around. “This isn’t a real good time.”
“Russell is still at Butter with Mrs. Batch. I’m at the table behind them listening to their conversation.”
“Okay, hold on a second.” I spin around. Oh, no. Where did Elijah go? Where did James and John go? Where did Connie go?
“Zoe?” Brian whispers.
“I can’t find Connie.” I hurry down the hall, and another hall, and another hall that looks very familiar. I’m certain that I’m going in circles.
“Russell is asking Mrs. Batch for money,” Brian mutters.
“How much?”
There’s silence. “Just twenty thousand.”
“Just twenty thousand! Are you kidding me? Why does he need that kind of cash? Connie is a doctor.”
“I’m not sure. It’s hard to hear.”
I think back to Connie’s memory of Russell pacing their room. Then there is Arturo, whom he refused to pay. They must be having financial trouble, but then why were they getting their house painted in the first place? That’s not a necessity.
“What else is happening?” I ask.
“She said she’s sorry. She doesn’t want to give him that money right now.”
I’m irritated that Russell is even asking his grandmother, who he refuses to visit, for that much cash. Also, I told him that his wife didn’t show up to work, and he didn’t even come back to check on her.
“What are they doing right now?” I ask.
“They’re drinking tea. He looked at his watch. He says he needs to be back at the house by four thirty. He’s meeting someone.”
“Can you shoot me a text when Russell leaves? And let me know if you come up with anything else.”
We hang up, and I circle the hall one more time. This place really should have a map and a directory posted like malls do.
I pass what I think is the front office. The door is locked. I try to peek in through the window, which is difficult because it’s covered in flyers advertising a dance and band tryouts, and ASB this and ASB that. I manage to find a sliver of an opening to see through.
I’m staring at the backside of the office. The front door is propped open, but for the life of me, I’m not sure how to get to that door. This place is like a corn maze.
The megaphone lady is standing at the counter with her megaphone clipped to her belt. Her giant visor is off, and her red hair is pulled into a tight ponytail. She’s on the phone, and I wonder if this is Becca, the woman I talk
ed to earlier this morning when I called.
The little boy Elijah had pushed up against the locker shuffles into the office with his giant backpack and his head hung low. Megaphone lady hangs up the phone and rushes around the corner to the boy. She lifts his chin to inspect his swollen eye. His mouth forms the word Elijah, and my heart sinks.
I feel terrible for the boy. I feel terrible for Connie. Heck, I even feel terrible for Elijah. Yes, I know bullying is bad. But his father is a liar, and his mother is dead.
My phone rings. I tap my Bluetooth. “Hello?”
“What is going on, Zoe? Where are you?” It’s Mike.
“I lost Connie, and I think Elijah gave some kid a black eye.”
“Is it the kid with the Star Wars shirt?”
“How did you know?”
“I watched him walk into the office holding his eye, and it looked like he was crying.”
Oh, gosh. Now I feel even more horrid. This must be why my parents homeschooled me. If kids are this mean to an innocent little boy, imagine what they would have done to a girl who speaks to dead people?
“Elijah got a text from Russell on Mrs. Batch’s phone.” I head down the hall and make a right. “Russell told him to go home with his friends James and John. I did get Russell’s password.”
“Cool. We’ll check his phone. Now get back in the car.”
“No. Not until I find Connie. She must be with Elijah.” I find an exit that dumps me onto a blacktop. From up here, I can see down to the PE field, where a group of girls are playing lacrosse. I recognize the sticks from the cover of Hot Star LaCrosse Lovers. Good book.
“Hi.” I wave to the girls. “I’m looking for Elijah Batch. Have you seen him around?”
One of the girls lifts her mask. “Yeah, I think they left out the back gate. I saw him with James and John.”
“Where exactly is the back gate?”
She points her stick.
Still not seeing it.
“Do you know where James and John live?” I ask.
A woman wearing short shorts and a marathon T-shirt with a whistle clenched between her teeth approaches. “What are you doing here?”
“I am uh …”
“You come off creepy if you’re asking minors where another minor lives,” says Mike in my ear.
Yes, I can see that now.
“I was looking for my friend’s son. I’m supposed to pick him up from school, but I can’t find him,” I say.
“Go to the office,” she says and stares me down.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say at once and scurry off of the field.
Pretty sure I would not have survived middle school.
Eleven
The front office door is open. The place is small. The floor is linoleum. There is a glass case to my right filled with trophies and a row of chairs to my left filled with students hugging their giant backpacks. Megaphone lady is gone, and there is no other adult in sight. Nor is there a ring for service bell. So I holler, “Hello. Anyone here?”
“Do you really think they’re going to give you James and John’s address?” Mike asks. It takes me a moment to realize he’s not talking to me on my Bluetooth, but rather he’s standing right next to me.
“Mike, I thought you were waiting in the car?”
“This is taking too long. We need to get you home.”
“I’m not going anywhere without Connie.”
“Can I help you?” A bald man wearing a bright red tie comes from one of the inner offices with a plaque on the door that reads Principal, Mr. Fanster.
“Yes, I …” have no idea what to say. “Uh … I’m picking up my friend’s son, and I can’t find him anywhere. His name is Elijah Batch. I heard he could have gone home with James and John, but I’m not sure where they live. It’s very important that I get him.”
Mike says “kidnapping” under his breath.
It’s not kidnapping if I have his mother’s permission.
“Let me find him for you.” The man grabs a handheld radio and holds it up to his mouth. “Anyone see Elijah Batch around?”
Saying Elijah’s name out loud brings up a lot of angst for Mr. Fanster. He recalls this morning’s meeting with Connie. He likes Elijah, and has found him to be a cheerful, respectful student who excels academically and is well liked by his peers. Dylan’s mother is … is … Dylan’s mother is megaphone lady! I can see her in his thoughts. Over the last several weeks, megaphone lady has told Mr. Fanster that Elijah has been harassing Dylan, calling him names, and making fun of him. According to Megaphone Lady, who I believe is Becca, Elijah shoves Dylan against lockers when the boys dress for PE.
Mr. Fanster has previously interviewed both Dylan and Elijah and all of Elijah’s friends, and he just isn’t convinced that Elijah is bullying anyone. He suspects Dylan is exaggerating the issue because he expressed many times during the interview that he would like to be homeschooled and his parents won’t let him. Mr. Fanster also suspects that Dylan would like to be friends with Elijah, and the few times Dylan has reached out to Elijah, Elijah has shut him down which caused embarrassment and hurt feelings. During the interview, Mr. Fanster told each of the boys to stay away from each other, and he warned Elijah that if he ever saw him lay a hand on Dylan, he would be expelled.
Mr. Fanster felt that the situation was resolved, but that wasn’t good enough for Becca. She felt that Connie and Russell should be talked to, because she believes her son, and she wants Elijah punished. The 8:00 meeting this morning with Connie was difficult, because Mr. Fanster is not allowed to give names or discuss Dylan with Connie, and Connie had a hard time believing Elijah would hurt anyone. The entire situation has been especially stressful since Becca works in the office, and she was upset that both Connie and Russell did not show up—she felt that meant they were not taking this seriously, and she is not happy that Elijah is still able to attend school. Mr. Fanster wants nothing more than to go home, kick off his shoes, have a glass of wine, and go to bed. I don’t blame him. I’ve spent twenty-minutes on campus, and I could use a glass of wine—and I don’t even drink.
“Anyone see Elijah Batch?” Mr. Fanster repeats into the radio.
“Mrs. Becca is looking for him, too,” says a staticky voice.
Mrs. Becca? Yikes. I’m grateful Elijah left with James and John. Who knows what Megaphone Lady would do to the kid who gave her son a black eye? She nearly killed me when I left the pickup line. Although, it feels unlikely that Elijah would seek Dylan out just to punch him after he’d run away. Then again, the boys had been told to stay away from each other, and I found Elijah confronting Dylan in the hallway. So who knows the real story.
“If you find him, please send him up to the office. His ride is here.” Mr. Fanster releases the radio and sits behind a computer at the counter. “Can I get your name?”
“My name?” I look up at Mike, and he shrugs. “Uh, why do you need my name?”
“Students must be picked up by an authorized adult. It’s protocol.”
Oh. “Uh … Zoe Lane?”
“Whoa. You’re Zoe Lane,” says one of the students hugging her gigantic backpack. It’s a girl no older than twelve with a mouthful of braces and curly hair.
“I am,” I say cautiously.
“I read about you.”
Uh-oh. “Where?”
“A couple of months ago. You helped catch the Fernn Valley Strangler.” She flashes a metallic smile. “I’m totally into serial killers right now.”
I’m unsure how to respond to that. So Mike goes, “That’s cool.”
“Zoe Lane,” says Mr. Fanster. “Yes, you’re right here.” He taps the computer monitor.
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” he says.
“No, I’m not.”
Mr. Fanster turns the monitor so I can see. Under authorized transportation for Elijah Batch it says, ZOE LANE.
“Holy crap,” says Mike.
My sentiments exactly.
“Dr. B
atch sent me an email this morning giving you permission to pick up Elijah. She said there was a family emergency.”
You could knock me over with a feather. “Can I see the email?”
Mr. Fanster isn’t sure why I want proof that I am authorized to take Elijah home. “Here it is.” He taps the keyboard, and the printer beside him spits out a paper.
Mr. Fanster,
Due to a family emergency, my son Elijah Batch needs to cam home with Zoe Lane. She is a family firend.
Sincer,
Dr. Connie Batch.
The email was sent at 9:27 AM. The lack of punctuation and misspelled words makes me think this was written in a panic. How the heck did Connie have the foresight to send this email? She didn’t know me. I didn’t know her.
“I’ll be damned,” Mike says under his breath.
“Mr. Fanster,” says a disembodied voice over the handheld radio.
Mr. Fanster picks up radio. “I’m here. Go ahead.”
“Elijah Batch went home with James and John Carter today.”
“Thank you.” Mr. Fanster replaces the radio on the charging station. “He must have forgotten that he was going home with you.”
“Do you have James and John’s address?” I ask.
Mr. Fanster folds his hands. “I’m not allowed to give out that information. I’m sorry.”
I turn to the group of students hugging their backpacks. “Any idea where John and James live?”
Only half of the students are paying attention to me. The other half are on their phones, but there is a collective shake of heads.
“Did you try calling Mr. Batch?” asks Mr. Fanster.
Right. Russell’s phone. It’s in my back pocket. Hopefully, I can locate Connie and Elijah’s phones using the Find My Phone app.
“We’re good. Thank you.” I power walk out of the office, across the parking lot, and to my car parked near the entrance. It’s amazing how empty the place is now.
“Do you have Russell’s cell on you?” Mike slides into the driver’s seat.
“It’s right here.” I take out the phone and sit in the passenger seat and pull on my seat belt. I type in the passcode that I saw in Elijah’s head, and I’m granted entrance.
