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It’s not until Monday morning after the announcements but before the pledge of allegiance, that Evan remembers Susie.
Her seat is empty, and it remains that way all throughout the morning lessons. He tries not to pay too much mind to it. After all, a kid missing a day or two of school is nothing new, and she did just watch her puppy get run over. Poor girl's probably traumatized.
Evan does his best to focus on what his teacher is saying. Something, something a sentence needs a noun, subject, and verb blah, blah. But his gut turns uncomfortably, making him nauseous.
He really, really hopes Susie forgives him. Leaving her behind hadn’t been his intention. Saturday was hectic and between all the chaos and planning, he had forgotten her. To be fair, though, she should have come looking for him when he didn’t come back out.
He nods as if in an agreement with himself.
“Evan?” His teacher asks.
Slowly, he glances up, to see his teacher’s exasperated expression. Sheepishly he offers an awkward smile.
“Read please,” she says.
Evan looks back down at his desk, which still has his math book on it. He’s not quite sure why they would be reading aloud from a math book, but he’s also not the teacher.
“Kathleen has sixty watermelons-”
“No,” his teacher - a bony, middle-aged woman of average height - interrupts. A few of his classmates snicker amongst themselves. “See, this is why I tell you all to pay attention. I’ll say it one more time, open to page 546 in your guided reading book .”
Evan fumbles with his book, willing his teacher to choose anyone else to read.
“Mrs. Summer, may I read.”
He can feel his teacher glare at him, and he does his best to ignore her by quickly flipping to the correct chapter.
“Yes, read the first couple pages, then I’ll draw popsicle sticks to see who’s going next.”
The class collectively groans.
“Or I could do popcorn reading?”
When Mrs. Summer turns away to write on the board, Evan looks up to see who saved him from further humiliation. He meets eyes with Cassidy, one of Susie’s friends. He can vaguely recall his sister mentioning her before.
She gives him a bright smile. Her two front teeth are gone, and her eyes are all scrunched up.
Awkwardly, he returns the smile. “Thank you,” he mouths.
She opens her mouth, but shuts it quickly, seeing Mrs. Summer whirl back around.
-x-x-x-
The rest of the morning goes by agonizingly slow, and by the time the lunch bell rings, all the kids are ready to leave. They spill out into the hallways, making navigating them harder than usual.
He spots Elizabeth heading for the front door, following after a few of her friends.
Evan frowns, kicking the ground.
Lucky.
Mum didn’t let them come home for lunch, and dad doesn’t like them wandering around during school hours (even if it is during a break period). So, unless they had friends that were generous enough to feed them lunch, they had to stay at school.
Good for Michael, who has had the same three friends since primary school.
Good for Elizabeth, who can get along with seemingly anyone besides her own brothers.
Bad for him, because the idea of talking to the other kids instantly gives him a stomach ache.
Evan drags his feet the rest of the way to the cafeteria. The one good thing about most people leaving school is that the room is practically empty.
The only ones left are the kindergarteners (who, by school policy, can’t leave the grounds during lunch), a small group of fifth graders sitting at the far end of the cafeteria, trading baseball cards, and him.
He gets in line between two bickering kindergarteners.
“Noooo! Blue is my favorite color!” A girl, no younger than him, whines, stomping her foot. She’s right behind him, and her foot almost catches the back of his shoe.
He tries to keep his focus on the small, impromptu menu that sits just before the serving area.
Should he get Pizza or-
“Miss Cohen said we can both like it,” another girl says, leaning around Evan to see her friend (are they friends? God, why does he even care?)
“Nuh uh.”
Pizza or chicken-
“Uh, huh.”
Chicken tenders. They’re usually dry, but the idea of eating pizza right now makes him feel nauseated.
“Nuh uh.”
He can feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He white-knuckles his lunch tray.
Silently, he pleads with them to shut up.
Shutupshutupshutupshutup
“You’re so stupid!” The first girl screeches, earning a look of concern from both lunch ladies.
Evan walks away from the lunch line, shaky and close to tears. He drops the empty, unused tray into one of the nearby trash cans.
He finds a seat at one of the many empty tables. The table is cool, and when he puts his forehead down against it, it helps the pounding in his head.
Why is he like this? Why has he always been like this? Maybe Michael was right calling him a-
Thud
The bench across from him creaks.
Is that…? Cautiously, he glances up.
Just as she did not two hours earlier, Cassidy meets his eyes with a smile. Up close he notices how her eyes are a deep brown and don’t actually close all the way when she smiles.
“Hi,” she says, voice soft. “I’m Cassidy.”
“I know,” he mumbles. Suddenly realizing how that sounds, he quickly adds, “because we’ve been in the same class since kindergarten last year. Which, I guess, is only two years. But not really because we just started-”
“You’re Evan, right?”
He takes a deep breath; grateful she interrupted his rambling.
“Yes.”
“I usually sit with Susie, but since she isn’t here today- I mean, I don’t like sitting alone. Can I sit with you?”
Numbly, and perhaps a little guilty, Evan nods.
“Thank you,” she says, “for letting me stay.”
“Sure.”
-x-x-x-
“I notice you don’t eat. Did your parents forget to give you money?” Cassidy asks, during one of their lunch periods.
Today an older kid had thought it funny to step on the backs of his shoes, tripping Evan up, and making the older boy howl with laughter.
“They do…I…I’m just not hungry.”
Cassidy says nothing, pursing her lips.
-x-x-x-
Clank
Evan looks up from his homework. Doing it at home is nearly impossible, and he and Cassidy can easily swap answers.
There, on the table, is a Fredbear and Friends lunchbox.
Cassidy slides it closer to him. “Do you like it?” She asks. “It used to be my brother’s, but he doesn’t like the show anymore and my mama tends to make extra food. I thought maybe if you didn’t like the lunch line, then I could bring you lunch each day.”
Evan opens the lunch box, staring at the contents inside. He must stare for too long, because Cassidy starts to reach for the box.
“It was a st-”
“No!” He exclaims, startling both of them. “Sorry, I mean, no, I like it. But I can’t make you do this.” Evan digs into one of his front pockets for his lunch money. “Here,” he says, placing the money in front of her. “I hope this covers it.”
Cassidy sighs deeply, pushing the money away from her. “No, friends don’t do nice things for friends to get something out of it. At least that’s what my mama told me.”
“Are you sure?” He asks, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He wipes his eyes, not wanting to start sobbing and scare her away.
“One hundred percent,” she confirms.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, tentatively picking up a PB&J and taking a bite.
“Sure.”
-x-x-x-
“When do you think Susie’s coming back?”
Evan’s half-way through eating a peanut butter sandwich, so it takes him a second to answer. “I don’t know. Probably soon, though, right?”
By this point it’s been a little over a week, and yesterday her parents came to his house asking about her.
Evan had answered the front door-even though Michael was closer, and he was helping Gregory get set-up with finger paints in another room-and came face-to-face with Susie’s parents. They both looked so, so tired and sad and worn-out.
Her father reminded Evan of all his father’s business associates. The ones that come to their house late at night, dressed in wool, three-piece suits, and then father convinces them to buy bits-and-pieces of the diner for a lot of money. Which confuses him greatly.
Why would anyone want to buy a piece of the diner?
The entry fee is only three bucks, and that includes a few tokens and a slice of pizza and a pop.
Adults are stupid sometimes.
“Son, are your parents home?” Susie's dad had asked him, crouching down to talk to him.
Feeling caught off guard, all he could do was look to Michael, who did his best to ignore him behind a Muscle Fitness magazine.
“No,” he finally said. They both looked a little taken back by this- or maybe it’s his accent, he can never tell. “Mum left for her job at the factory half-an-hour ago and father won’t be home for a while.”
“I see,” the man said. “I don’t suppose you would happen to know our Susie, would you?”
He should tell them. They deserve to know.
Susie’s mum has that same curly blonde hair that fluffs out. Standing there, running on fumes and the desire to see her daughter again, her hair looks flat and tangled in some places.
Like a kick in the stomach, he remembers standing next to Susie. How she reached out for him, sad and desperate and in-need of a friend. And he…he had left her all alone.
They need to know.
“Y-”
A hand on his shoulder stopped him short.
“Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met before.”
Susie’s father eyed him warily before standing slowly. “No, I’m Stanley Abel and this is my wife Janice.”
By that point, father had pushed him back inside, while he stepped outside to talk to Susie’s parents.
“Evan…?” Cassidy snaps her fingers in his face, bringing him back to the present moment.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, bringing the sandwich up to his mouth. “I hope she comes back soon.”