The bus pulled away as Mrs. Chambers edged herself along the aisle, her large bosom leaning over Jake.
“There’s no need to panic—we’ve got your medicine and EpiPen now, okay? Off we go, driver! We’ll still be there in time for lunch!”
I looked along the gap in between the seats and the windows; I could see Jake, two rows ahead, slumped with his head resting against the glass.
“Why do you have to spoil everything, Jake?”
“That stupid bag! Haven’t you grown out of it by now?”
That September we started middle school and Jake and I were put into different classes, so I didn’t see him much anymore. I hung around with Tom, and Jake surrounded himself with some horrible kids from older years and gained some kind of admiration by becoming the school rebel. I regularly saw him slouched on the desk outside the principal’s office, picking at the dried flakes of skin on his forehead and jutting out a foot every now and then to try and trip someone up. I guess in a weird way, he’d stopped being bullied by becoming the bully.
Monday, July 28th. 6:14 p.m. Office/nursery.
People known to be at home at the time of Teddy’s disappearance: Mr. Charles
Casey
Hannah
Sue Bishop
Old Nina
Gordon and Penny
Claudia
People known to be out:
Sheila and Brian Corbin (working)
Leo Bishop (working)
Mr. Jenkins (jogging)
People unaccounted for:
Jake
Melody
I stared at the names as I tapped my pencil on the desk. It didn’t look like much, but it was a start. Teddy couldn’t have gone far on his own—I was certain of it. If he’d wandered off, surely they would have found him by now?
I looked out on the cul-de-sac as the police bustled around, busy gathering evidence to try and piece together the mystery of what had happened to the little boy.
But they didn’t know the neighborhood like I did. They didn’t see the things I saw.
I looked down at the pile of pink petals that Teddy had been picking, now gathered in a small mound by the gatepost, and I knew what I was going to do.
I was going to work out who took Teddy Dawson.
I was shaking as I stood over the bathroom sink. It had been hours since I’d last washed my hands. I’d lost track of things and not kept on top of keeping clean, and now I was in danger of becoming ill. And if I became ill, then who knew what that could lead to? I washed my hands over and over and over until my eyes streamed from the pain. I went to my room and was going to put a pair of latex gloves on, but I had to save them.
“Someone’s got him, Lion,” I said to the wallpaper. “Someone has taken him. I’m sure of it.”
The Wallpaper Lion looked back at me sadly.
“I need to be alert. I need to keep an eye on things, see if I can spot any clues. You need someone like me, watching things. I was the last one to see him! If I hadn’t seen him, they wouldn’t have known he was in the front yard at all, would they?”
I began a new page in my notebook.
Teddy’s Disappearance—The Facts
Mr. Charles wasn’t coping very well with his grandchildren and now seems more worried about his fish.
Casey pushed Teddy in the pond and showed no signs of wanting to help him until Mr. Charles appeared.
Old Nina? Could she be involved?
Jake Bishop? Would he be capable of hurting him? Maybe hiding him for the attention?
Melody Bird. An unlikely suspect, but she does go to the graveyard A LOT. Would she know of some place to hide him over there?
The first search party returned at 7:18 p.m. They hung around in the middle of the street for a while, not quite sure what to do next. The police were still going in and out of Mr. Charles’s house. Gordon turned toward home, fanning his scarlet face with his wide-brimmed hat as he went. Jake opened the door of number five, swigging from a can of Coke as Sue walked up to him and grabbed him in an awkward bear hug. He looked up at me over her shoulder and glared. Claudia went back to number three and Melody opened the door, Frankie yapping at their feet as they hugged as well. Mum turned to our house and looked up at the window. I held up my hand and gave a pathetic wave as she smiled weakly.
I stood at the top of the stairs as she came in.
“How did it go? Did you find anything?”
Mum shook her head and then rubbed at the back of her neck with her hand. She looked tired.
“I can’t believe this is happening. That poor family. Is your dad still out?”
I nodded. Dad had come home from work to find the police everywhere. He’d thrown his tie and briefcase into the hallway and rushed out to join another search team along with Jake’s brother, Leo, recently home from work, and Mr. Jenkins, who must have returned from his run when I wasn’t watching. He didn’t call up to let me know he was going like Mum had. I actually thought he’d forgotten I was there at all.
Mum leaned her head against the front door and closed her eyes.
“You know what I need right now, Matthew? I need a nice, big hug from my lovely, lovely son.”
Her eyes remained closed as she took a deep breath. I stayed still at the top of the stairs as I watched her. In her mind she was probably willing me to walk down the stairs, to take her hand as I rested my head in the little dip between her shoulder and collarbone. She’d then envelope me with her kind, strong arms as we stood there breathing in and out in time with each other.
Her eyes flickered open and they glistened as she looked up at me, sitting on the top step, frozen to the spot.
“I think I’ll put on the kettle,” she said and she made her way to the kitchen.
When I was five we used to walk to school each day with Sue and Jake. Jake would usually have some kind of makeshift weapon on him that he’d use to attack any shrub or hedge he thought could do with a good bashing, whereas I’d walk beside my mum and hold her hand.
“Matty! Matty! Let’s have a war!” he’d yell at me, thrusting a sharp stick into my chest. I turned away from him and nestled against Mum’s leg. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to play, I just wanted to stay as close to my mum for as long as I could before I went into class.
“I don’t think he wants to today, Jake,” Mum said kindly. Jake huffed and ran on and began whacking at a bush with his stick.
We carried on walking, and I put my other hand over the top of hers, covering her soft knuckles.
“Jake, why don’t you hold my hand like Matthew?” said Sue, grabbing his arm to try and stop him from hitting the bush.
Jake scowled and tugged his arm away, then studied his palm. His pink, angry skin seemed to hypnotize him, and he stopped to pick at the little white flakes.
“Don’t do that, you’ll make your eczema sore! You don’t want to make it worse, do you?”
Sue dropped behind to inspect her son’s hand as Mum and I walked on.
“Do you know what?” said Mum. “One day you’ll be a really big boy and you won’t want to hold your mummy’s hand anymore.”
I frowned up at her and she laughed.
“It’s true! Us mummies know these things.”
Swinging our arms back and forth, I giggled as we marched onward like clockwork soldiers.
“I’ll always hold your hand, Mummy,” I said after we’d slowed down. “I promise. Even when I’m twelve years old!”
Mum laughed so much that this time I saw her bright, white teeth.
“We’ll see, Matthew,” she said, smiling. “We’ll see.”
And then she squeezed my hand a little tighter.