Page 33 of Property of Scythe
“Hi, I’m Lottie Bishop. Mila’s teacher.” We shake briefly.
“I’m Emma. Mila is my niece.”
Oh. Damn. Is she related to Scythe or his ex?
“Scythe sends his apologies. He wanted me to let you know that I’ll be picking Mila up and dropping her off today.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“Mila’s been talking about you every day since school started. She really loves your class.”
“That’s wonderful. She’s lovely.”
Emma leans forward, lowering her voice. “It’s been rough since my sister ran off with a trucker and abandoned these two. I do what I can, but it’s been hard.”
“I can’t imagine. You’re a good sister to help like that.”
“I adore Mila. She’s the sweetest little girl. It’s good for her to have another woman to look up to after everything, you know?”
“Yes, I agree.”
“Well, I should run. I’ve got a paper to finish by noon. See you later, Lottie.”
I wave as she rushes from the doorway, and I wonder if there’s anything romantic between her and Scythe. She doesn’t seem to be territorial about him. Her conversation was more about Mila than her dad. I’m guessing they’re friends, and Scythe relies on her for help with his daughter.
I’m not going to pry since it’s not my business.
The morning speeds by as they do on most days, and I usher the class outside for recess. I’m lost in my thoughts, standing by the slide, when I feel Mila tug on my shirt.
“Ms. Bishop?”
I blink and look down. “Yes?”
“There’s a scary man watching you.”
Every muscle in my body tenses. That sentence, spoken so calmly by a little child, is unnerving. It takes a few seconds for me to compose myself enough to answer her. “Where?”
She points toward the empty soccer field that stretches to the fence. It’s only about the length of a football field from our location. The local YMCA uses this field as well as our school, so there’s a parking lot that you can access from the street.
I don’t want to look, but I know I have to see if Mila is right. The fact that I’m not as aware of my surroundings as I should be is cause for alarm. I have an obligation to keep these kids safe. I need to be focused.
I turn my head and see a man dressed in black standing still as he faces the fence. He’s on the parking lot side, but there’s something creepy about the way he doesn’t move. “You’re right,” I tell Mila. “I want you to run toward the school. Go inside the classroom and stay there. Promise me.”
“Okay, Ms. Bishop.”
Mila listens, obeying me without hesitation. Maybe she senses the urgency in my voice or understands this isn’t normal behavior. Does she understand the concept of Stranger Danger?
The bell rings, and I hear the kids head back indoors, and still I stand, wondering what this stranger wants. His hood is pulled low over his face, and he’s wearing gloves. I won’t be able to provide any significant information about him to describe him to the police.
My first thought is that I should call the sheriff’s office. But I don’t. Instead, I dial Scythe’s number with trembling fingers.
“Lottie?” his voice is in my ear after only one ring.
“Scythe. I’m scared.”
I don’t know why that’s the first thing I say. It’s stupid. I should be describing the man who takes a few steps closer like he’s taunting me.
“Baby, I need you to tell me what’s happening. Are you and Mila safe?”
