Justen felt proud as he sat on the school bus and gazed out through the streaky glass at the many people who were hurriedly making their way to do whatever it was that grownups did.
His feeling of pride was primarily caused by the fact that his Mother trusted him to make the journey to and from school by himself. He felt that at the age of six he was pretty much grown up and by allowing him to ride the bus alone, his Mother must have felt the same way.
He lurched forward in his seat as he felt the bus stop at an intersection. He smiled when he saw an old lady being tugged along the street by a large woolly looking dog. The bus pulled away from the intersection and then whack! He felt something hit him in the back of the head.
He looked around the bus and all he could see was the raucous behaviour of thirty children. The noise was deafening and it somehow blended into the grinding and groaning noises made by the dilapidated old bus.
He turned back around and amused himself by tracing the graffiti on the back of the seat in front of him with his finger when – splat!
Something hit the side of his face.
His cheek stung from the impact of a stale sandwich, the evidence of which was resting on the top of his back pack which he had placed by his feet.
He bent down and picked up the soggy sandwich and turned again to face his unknown attacker.
He fought the urge to cry and rubbed at the stinging in his cheek as he looked around and stared at each of the many faces on the bus. He felt a sudden flush of anger as he stood and screamed at the crowd.
“Who threw this? It’s not funny!”
The crowd of children all stopped talking at the same time at the sound of Justen’s voice and then as if on cue they all burst out laughing at him.
He felt outrage and then humiliation as a piece of ketchup ridden salami slid slowly off the top of his head. He spun around quickly in his seat, grabbed the soggy salami and threw it out the window.
The stinging in his cheek combined with the stinging in his eyes as tears welled up and streamed down his cheeks.
The sudden lurching movement of the bus provided his escape as it had pulled up at the bus stop outside of his building. He hurriedly brushed the tears from his eyes, grabbed his bag and strode to the front of the bus.
He kept his head down as he walked and mumbled his thanks to the driver as he exited the bus. He deliberately ignored the jeering children as the bus pulled away and left him alone on the sidewalk.
It wasn’t until the bus had departed, that Justen understood that he was, in fact, alone.
His Mother was absent. He felt a flutter in his chest and his breathing quickened as he looked around and then towards the front of his building as if any moment his Mother would appear beside him to hold his hand.
He did not understand why his Mother was not there. He was also confused as to why Crystal had not shown up to take her place.
He felt a sudden rush of panic and sprinted towards the main door of the building. He burst through the door and almost tripped over the body of a man who was lying on the floor of the building’s foyer. Justen recognised him.
“Hi Leroy, have you seen my Mother or Crystal? They were supposed to meet me at the bus stop.”
There was no response.
Justen leant in closer to Leroy. He had never seen a dead man up close and wondered whether Leroy was dead.
He bent down and gently grabbed a handful of tattered coat and shook him.
Leroy reacted violently as he shrugged his shoulder away from Justen and clutched desperately at a crumpled brown paper bag.
“Goway! Leave mmelone,” he managed to slur before falling back into unconsciousness.
Startled by Leroy’s aggressiveness, Justen jumped backwards and ran towards the stairwell beside the lift.
He did not use the lift because his Mother had told him that lifts were dangerous. He did not understand why his Mother had forbidden him from using the lift.
It didn’t matter; he had fun counting the stairs as he climbed the eight flights of stairs that led to Crystal’s apartment.
As he climbed, he gazed at the walls of the stairwell. He could see strange pictures and lots of ugly looking words and numbers scrawled across them. He did not understand why someone would write on walls.
Didn’t they have paper?
He gave up counting the steps after the first thirty and sprinted up the last remaining flights. He opened the door at the top of the eighth flight and entered the corridor. He always felt a little scared walking alone in this corridor.
He could still remember the first night he had stumbled out of Crystal’s apartment and entered a room that looked like it was falling apart.
He shuddered when he remembered hiding from the bad man behind some old boxes. He did not know why he felt that the man was a bad man. He just remembered that the man had a really big gun and had fired it out the window.
Did he shoot someone?
When he saw that the man had fired the huge gun and was about to turn around, he saw a flash of the man’s face. It had a crack in it.
Scared out of his wits, he ran from that room as quick as he could. His heart was beating really hard. He was petrified.
What if the man had seen him? Would he shoot him too?
He remembered his urgent need to get back and find his Mother. It was whilst he was running back down the corridor and into the stairwell that he ran into Crystal. She had hugged him and told him that everything was okay.
He remembered how relieved he had felt when Crystal had taken him back to his Mother. He had seen his Mother’s face and how scared she looked on that night. He decided that he would not tell her what happened with the bad man. He did not want her to look so scared again.
He suffered with bad dreams ever since he had seen the bad man fire the gun and one night he had to break his vow and tell his Mother what had happened.
He had sobbed when he told her of what he had seen. She had cuddled him and told him that she would always be there to protect him. After he had told her his secret he slept without the night mares.
Justen shook his head to clear away the bad memories of the night mares as he reached Crystal’s apartment. He put his bag down and reached into his shirt and pulled out the chain with the key on it. He inserted the key in the lock and was about to turn it when the door moved forward. It was already open.
With a puzzled expression on his face, he shrugged his shoulders, pulled the key out the lock and tucked the chain back into his shirt. He picked up his bag and entered the room.
The room was dark, only a thin sliver of light filtered in through a tear in one of the blinds. Justen squinted against the darkness and fumbled with his hand on the wall near the doorway, feeling for the light switch.
He shivered as his fingers brushed against an old cobweb as they hovered over the switch, instantly causing the light to come on.
He enjoyed the fact that he could control electrical items without touching them. It wasn’t a big deal to him. He thought everyone could do it until his Mother had seen him do it.
She told him that he was a special boy and he had to keep it a secret so that the other kids wouldn’t get jealous. He was puzzled by his Mother’s reaction but he made sure that he told no one of his gift. He had not told his Mother that his gift was becoming stronger; he did not want to worry her.
His eyes squinted as the single bare bulb which hung suspended from the ceiling lent a small degree of illumination to the hovel. It wasn’t a hovel to Justen.
He loved the fact that Crystal wasn’t a neat freak. He loved the tatty old carpet and the thread bare sofa. He was a kid, he didn’t care about decor.
He even liked the weird smell. His Mother didn’t like the smell and told him that he should keep his window open in his room. Apparently his lungs needed fresh air.
The pain from the sandwich attack had subsided and he soon realised that he was hungry.
He felt upset that his Mother had not been at the bus stop to collect him because she always had a glass of milk and some yummy cookies waiting for him.
He decided that Crystal wouldn’t mind if he raided the refrigerator.
The fridge was nearly empty except for some blue furry looking cheese and a large carton of milk.
He struggled with pulling the heavy milk carton out of the fridge and was proud that he had only managed to spill a single splash of milk over the counter.
He ran his index finger through the milk puddle and made a smiley face. He sucked the milk from his finger and reached for the cookie jar.
Grabbing a handful of cookies he proceeded to the sofa to watch cartoons on the television. He slumped heavily onto the sofa and almost tipped out his milk. He leant forward and carefully placed his glass and pile of cookies on the coffee table.
He fumbled in the folds of the sofa looking for the remote. He frowned when he couldn’t find it and had to go over and point at the power button on the old style set to bring it to life.
By concentrating really hard he could flick through the channels. He finally settled on the Cartoon channel when he noticed the flashing red light on the phone’s answering machine that was on the small table next to the television.
He muted the television, went to the phone to retrieve the message. He had seen Crystal retrieve messages before and knew which button to use.
He smiled as he listened to the cheery voice of his friend.
“Hi this is Crystal Meth leave a message after the beep.”
Beep!
Ahh hello…Ms Meth?…This is Nurse Richards from George Washington General’s ER, I believe that you are currently living with a Miss Sylvan Peters. I got your details from her mobile. I need you to come down to Washington General.
She has been the victim of an attack. She is in a coma. I can’t tell you any more on the phone. Please come down, we have some urgent questions we would like answered. (click)….Beeeep!
Justen stood rigidly, staring at the phone. The tears welled up in his eyes. He felt sick. He could feel his tummy twisting.
He bent over from the pain as the tears began to pour down his face. The lights in the room flickered wildly and the television inexplicably turned itself off.
Justen ignored this as he felt his lungs start to burn as the stress triggered his asthma. He started to struggle to breathe.
Gasping for breath, he stumbled to his school back pack and quickly pulled out his inhaler and desperately took two quick puffs, instantly feeling the calming effect of the medicine.
Once he could breathe easier his mind began to race. Questions flooded his mind.
Is that why he had been left alone? Where was Crystal? Had she heard the message and had gone to see his Mummy? What is a ‘coma’ and why was Mummy in one? Who attacked her?
He straightened up and wiped the tears and snot off his face using the sleeve of his jacket. He knew that he had to see his Mother.
He felt in his pocket for the emergency five dollar note his Mother had given him. His fingers gripped the wrinkled note.
He snuffled and wiped his face with his sleeve again. He shoved the inhaler in his other pocket as he raced towards the door.
He had a plan; he was going to ask a taxi driver to take him to see his Mummy at the hospital. He burst out of the building and onto the street.
As he stopped and looked around, wondering which way to go, he noticed that the street was empty. There were no people. He suddenly felt frightened.
Clutching his backpack to his chest he took a deep breath and headed in the direction that the bus was going. He was driven by one thought.
I have to find Mummy!