Somnambulist Page 6

  The fountain’s lights sprang to life.

  The water jets blasted out in all directions, punching Sam in the chest and sending him hurtling into the pool below.

  Jonny and the bathroom attendant jumped back in shock as they watched the boy crash head-first into the stone font.

  “Oh, shit.”

  Jonny ran over to his friend and screeched across the ground on his knees. “Sam, are you all right?”

  His friend was dazed, but largely unscathed.

  “Ugghhh.”

  The attendant looked over at Iris to find she had gone - now nothing more than a distant figure making its way along the sidewalk up ahead…

  Chapter VI

  “Thank you for coming to see me at such short notice, Mrs. Goddard.”

  “What’s he done, now?”

  Iris remained perfectly still on the plastic seat. An intrusive tick-tick-tick from the wall clock dispelled the otherwise perfectly silent room.

  The ticking sound came from the giant clock on the wall above a pretty Chinese lady’s head, who was sitting opposite Iris and perused a bunch of papers.

  As indicated by the clock, it was now 2:30 pm at Chrome Junction Elementary. The Roman Numerals fanning around the pristine white clock face looked at odds with the rest of the room’s decor.

  Tick, tick, tick…

  Bright, primary colors adorned the furniture.

  The couch to the left was a sickly yellow.

  Iris and Mrs. Tan sat around a wooden desk with red trim.

  To Iris’s left, a rectangular window providing a view of the school play area, replete with a blue climbing frame, green swings, and a bright red slide.

  Currently vacated, much like Iris’s mind, she wondered how the play area might look at break times. Recess was surely a fun time for all who played there, judging by the dirty state it’d been left in.

  “Mrs. Goddard?”

  Iris snapped out of her daze and turned to the Chinese lady. Her first thought was that of the woman’s age. In her thirties, Mrs. Tan was a clear ten years younger than Iris.

  “Huh?”

  “Are you okay, Mrs. Goddard?”

  “Oh, uh, yes,” Iris said. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little tired.”

  “And not entirely present, it would seem.”

  Iris took the comment to heart and snapped. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Have you noticed a change in Samuel’s behavior, lately?” Mrs. Tan asked, cautiously.

  “No. Why?”

  A bunch of papers slid across the table top.

  Crayon scribblings created by the hand of a six-year-old.

  A badly-drawn picture of a man with two flaps of something protruding from his shoulders. The circle for the man’s face had been filled in with black crayon. The teeth, such as they were, resembled more an accordion with bright rectangular panels.

  “We’re concerned about the work he’s been producing. Take this one, for instance. Drawn this morning during art hour.”

  Iris thumbed the picture. She didn’t want to touch it. The image confused her.

  “I don’t know what to say. What is it?”

  “Mr. Pond set them a task. They were supposed to be drawing pictures of their family. You know, their father, mother, or siblings. That kind of thing.”

  “He’s only six,” Iris said. “He’s very creative. I’m sure it can be explained.”

  Mrs. Tan sighed, knowing she was about to deliver a second gut-punch that couldn’t be explained in a hurry.

  She pushed forward a second picture for Iris’s assessment. A crude drawing of a big truck with square wheels and bodies lying around it. Aggressive swipes from a red crayon indicated blood, perhaps. Or the translucent rays from a setting sun? Iris struggled as she clutched at straws to explain Samuel’s weird artistic vision.

  She felt the words fall from her lips as she scanned the bizarre drawing. “Am I under some kind of Rorschach test, here?”

  “This was his homework.”

  “Yes. I sort of recognize it. So?”

  “Did you stop to ask why he drew this?” Mrs. Tan said, careful not to stroll into accusatory territory. “What any of this means?”

  Iris pushed the picture away and folded her arms. “What does any of it mean in a six-year-old’s mind? He’s just a little boy.”

  Iris turned to the window once again as her speech slowed. Samuel faded into view on the climbing frame. She knew he wasn’t really there; the sight was more an imaginary interpretation of what it might have looked like when he played with his friends.

  “Life hasn’t dealt him a bad hand, yet,” Iris continued as the ghost-like Sammy smiled and waved at her from the top of the slide. “Doesn’t the school allow for this kind of thing? Does it require me to visit the school to provide an explanation?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  Disappointed at how the meeting had gone, Mrs. Tan collected the sheets of paper in her hands.

  “I was just curious, that’s all. It’s not the reason I called you in today.”

  “So, what is the reason?”

  Mrs. Tan paused for a moment, and unleashed the real reason she’d called Iris in.

  ***

  10:00 am.

  The school bell rang for the first recess of the morning. The doors in the snake-like corridor bust open one by one to release a torrent of tiny children, all shrieking with excitement about their fifteen minutes of respite.

  Kids of all shapes, sizes, colors, and creeds filtered into the corridor, vying for first position in the playground.

  “Hey. Be nice,” the teacher called after them. “Single file, please.”

  The swarm of tiny human beings vanished at the far end of the corridor and through the door, funneling themselves into the proposed single file.

  Earlier today, Samuel had an altercation with another child in his class. Daniel Kelly.

  There he was - little Daniel Kelly, the snot-nosed, fuzzy-haired blonde boy from primary three, who gripped his toy gun.

  He aimed the bright red end at the lone Samuel as he clutched his plush toy elephant.

  “Hey, you.”

  Samuel kept on walking and trained his eyes on his feet.

  “I said I’m talking to you. Why won’t you say anything?”

  Is that the new kid with the much older brother?

  Yes, that’s him. Daryl Kelly’s younger brother.

  Enraged by the lack of acknowledgment, Daniel chased up to Sammy and punched him on the shoulder.

  “Hey, you know what they call an angel who’s black, don’t you?” Daniel chuckled.

  Sammy stopped walking and slowly lifted his face up at the much larger Daniel as he taunted him.

  “No. What?”

  “A bat. Haha.”

  It started in the corridor. Samuel told us Daniel started it. Deliberately trying to bait him.

  “Shut up.”

  Thoroughly displeased with the “joke” he’d heard several times before, Sammy pushed the fire door open and walked into the playground - with an infuriated Daniel hot on his trail.

  “Hey, where do you think you’re going? You gonna play? Can I come with you?”

  Sammy kept on walking and gripped the straps on his green backpack. “No.”

  “What you got in the bag?”

  “Nothing.”

  Daniel shoved the boy from behind, forcing him to stumble a few steps.

  “Leave me alone.”

  Daniel pushed the barrel of his plastic gun in Sam’s cheek as they walked, in tandem, towards the climbing frame.

  “Hey, you returd. Look to me when I’m speaking to you.”

  Sammy kept his eyes on the ground as he walked. All he had to do was ignore the bully who followed him. “Shut up. Don’t call me a returd.”

  “Returd, returd, returd! Hey, gimme your bag or I’ll blow your black brains out.”

  “Go away or I’ll tell a teacher.”

  Daniel half-danced with deli
ght in a deliberate attempt to further antagonize his victim. Most of the kids in the playground whispered in hushed tones to each other.

  “Haha,” Daniel roared with laughter as he tapped Sammy’s face with his plastic gun. “You won’t be alive to tell any teacher. I’ll shoot you. Then I’ll shoot everyone who saw me shoot you, and then I’ll shoot myself in my own head and nobody can punish me.”

  Just outside the main building, Mr. Pond was noticeable by the yellow hi-vis jacket he sported for playground duty. He suspected something was wrong and kept an eye on the pair.

  Daniel pointed his toy gun at Sammy’s elephant toy and chuckled. “Bang. Yeehaw.”

  The elephant slipped through Sammy’s hands and hit the spongy ground by the climbing frame.

  “Don’t do that.”

  A crowd of children formed around the pair, expecting a fight to occur.

  Sammy eyeballed Daniel and clenched his fists. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “So what? It’s a gay-boy toy, anyway. Stupid elephant.”

  Daniel slammed the heel of his shoe on its face, dirtying it up and splitting the material on his trunk. A ball of white fluff spiked out, pushing feathers into the air.

  “Fight! Fight! Fight!” the surrounding crowd chanted, hoping they could bait the two kids into a brawl.

  Mr. Pond came running over and tried to break the melee up.

  “Hey. Daniel. Sammy. Stop that.”

  Daniel stared at Sammy and lowered his gun. “What you gonna do about it, Slimey Goddard? You ugly nigger?”

  The crowd of children held their breath in shock.

  “Daniel?” Mr. Pond asked. “What did you just say?”

  The obnoxious brat looked up at Mr. Pond with the face of an innocent cherub. “He’s threatening me, sir.”

  Mr. Pond wasn’t falling for the “what, me?” act Daniel pulled on him. “No, Daniel. Apologize to Sammy.”

  “What for?”

  Mr. Pond folded his arms in a huff. “You know why, Daniel Kelly. Apologize.”

  “What? For calling him a nigger?”

  “Daniel! Stop saying that word.”

  SMACK.

  Daniel’s lip split open as a black fist tore across his face. A chorus of approval and excited cheers erupted as the blonde boy hit the deck and dropped his toy gun.

  Sammy had punched the boy in the face, and looked pleased with the result.

  “That’s what you get,” Sammy roared through his heart palpitations. He waved the pain away from his fist, expecting a thorough telling-off.

  “He called me the N-Word, sir.”

  Mr. Pond had dozens of angelic witnesses all blinking at him, awaiting his response. Would he have the guts to discipline Sammy for something Daniel Kelly had the nerve to do, or say? Not so much.

  He exhaled and extended his hand. “Come with me, Goddard. Bring your elephant with you.”

  Daniel clutched his bleeding face. Sammy’s fist had caught him good. “He hit me, sir.”

  “Shut up and get up, you little turd,” Mr. Pond said. “You’re both coming with me to see your homeroom teacher.”

  Iris couldn’t believe what she’d heard from Mrs. Tan. “You must be joking. That’s not… that’s not like my Sammy.”

  “I’m afraid everyone saw it. We need to nip this in the bud now before word gets back home to everyones’ parents.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We have no choice but to suspend Samuel for the rest of the week at least. You’ll be taking Samuel home with you.”

  Iris slumped in her chair, overwhelmed by the news. Then, she burst into tears, which put Mrs. Tan in an awkward position.

  “Look, Mrs. Goddard—”

  “—Shut up,” Iris yelped. “Just stop talking.”

  It took Iris a moment or two to chew back the anguish and wipe her eyes. “So you’re telling me that the white kid antagonizes my Sammy, calls him a nigger, and he’s the one who gets suspended?”

  “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use that word.”

  “I’d appreciate it if your students didn’t use it, too,” Iris said.

  “I’m afraid the school cannot accept instances of violence on another child—”

  “—Yet it accepts instances of racism?” Iris finished. “How would that sound if it were to get out?”

  Mrs. Tan shut the hell up and let Iris continue, for fear of the incident exacerbating.

  Iris half-shut her eyes and scanned the woman’s face. Mrs. Tan was of Chinese origin, for sure. The subject was bound to rear its ugly head during the conversation, and so Iris changed its course.

  “You know what it’s like, don’t you?”

  “I know what what’s like, Mrs. Goddard?”

  Iris squinted at Mrs. Tan’s eyes. “Well. Look at you. You can’t tell me you haven’t experienced the same damn thing, can you?”

  Mrs. Tan’s face told her everything she needed to know. A teacher whose eyes gave away her nationality, and no mistake. Behind them, a sense of regret and pain; a person whose values and moral code conflicted with that of her employer’s.

  “Oh, I see.”

  “Yeah, in widescreen, judging by the looks of you.”

  “Look, I don’t make the rules, Mrs. Goddard—”

  “—I know, I get it. You just follow them.”

  Iris scanned the second drawing of the truck and the bodies once again. This time, she noticed small, horizontal lines where the dead people would have had eyes.

  She looked at Mrs. Tan’s face again and couldn’t help bridge the peculiar connection. “Another outfit back in Germany did the same thing back in the nineteen-thirties.”

  “I hardly think it’s fair to make such a comparison.”

  “Yes. I know you think that. That’s the problem—”

  “—I beg your pardon, Mrs. Goddard”?

  Iris stood her ground, and up to her feet. “Okay, that’s enough of this pantomime. Nothing but wild west theatrics, this school. I swear.”

  “But—”

  “—Okay, I’ve heard enough. Where’s my son? I’m taking him home.”

  Mrs. Tan nodded at the door to her office. “He’s, uh, waiting outside.”

  “I’m going to take him for his favorite lunch, tell him off, and give him the biggest hug of his life.”

  Little Sammy leaned against the corridor wall with a look of fear on his face. The shuffling sound from inside the office meant that the meeting was over, and so was his life.

  The door pushed open and produced his mother who, surprisingly, didn’t launch into a tirade of anger.

  “Hey, sweetheart.”

  “Hi, mom.”

  She snatched his hand and pulled him away from the wall. “Let’s get you out of here. Come on.”

  The boy pulled a smile of relief and waved goodbye to a thoroughly astonished Mrs. Tan, who had little choice but to wave back.

  ***

  Iris drove along the freeway at a calm click.

  Little had been said by her on the journey, and Sammy didn’t dare ask any questions.

  Bravely, he focused his eyes on his mother’s in the rearview mirror to see how she’d react.

  Nothing in the way of emotion, or reaction.

  She looked down at the busted elephant trunk and cleared her throat.

  “What happened to Babar?”

  Sammy scanned the toy’s face and scowled at its flattened trunk. “Daniel Kelly shot him and jumped on him.”

  “Pfft. What a prick.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Her son had no idea, but Iris felt a sense of pride deep inside. It was all she could do not to smile. Relieved, Sammy smiled back.

  The moment wouldn’t last forever, though.

  A sign for Junction 11 A whizzed past the car, advertising the turn-off for the Kaleidoscope shopping mall, city center, and industrial estate.

  Iris hit the turn signal, pulled into the slow lane, and approached the othe
r cars waiting to exit.

  She turned her head to the left to see five tower blocks looming in the lunchtime sun. Unable to turn away, the noise from the outside traffic dampened in her mind, replaced by a peculiar sound of sizzling coming from the middle tower...

  ***

  A row of burgers cooked on the grill, spitting transparent globs of fat in all directions.

  The hustle and bustle of Sammy’s favorite fast food joint - Burger Face.

  “That’s a Stent Tower Burger,” the chef barked at the cashier from behind the stoves. “Order three.”

  He chucked the wrapped burger into a bag and pushed it down the collection slider.

  The cashier hit the register, forcing the money tray to flip out like a rasping tongue.

  “That’ll be seven-oh-six, lady.”

  Iris stared at the grill, lost in her own little world. She ran her tongue across her bottom lip as the chef turn on the gas and spark a light.

  “Lady?” the cashier asked again.

  She snapped out of her daze and looked up. “Huh?”

  “Seven-oh six, please.”

  “Oh. Yes.”

  She opened her purse and paid the man. As he got her change, she glanced down at Sammy knowing he’d caught her aloofness.

  “Come on. Let’s go sit and eat.”

  They took a booth by the window overlooking the main high street. Out front at the Kaleidoscope’s southern perimeter, the stone fountain was in full swing. The water sprayed in all directions, affording a golden opportunity for children to make nuisances of themselves in the glorious late-morning sun.

  Sammy slurped his milkshake in a way that tugged at Iris’s heart. Those wistful green eyes of his. He was her son, of that there was no doubt. Just little details, like the way his nose bulged at the sides, made him all the more adorable.

  “What are you looking at, Mom?”

  Iris held her answer for a moment and sighed. “I’m looking at a brave young man, is what I’m looking at.”

  Sammy saw his mother’s half-eaten burger resting like a corpse over its wrapper.

  “You not gonna finish it?”

  Iris slid the wrapper across the plastic tray. “What, this? Nah. You finish it if you want to.”

  “Okay.”