Page 46 of Final Escape
On Friday, Carrie unlocked her desk when she arrived and found her folder of the mysterious drawings was gone.
She drew in a sharp breath. Searched all of the drawers, the stacks of papers on her desk and her briefcase. Who could’ve taken it, andwhy?
A second, closer inspection of the drawer that had held the missing folder yielded a single drawing—the newest version—that had slipped beneath some other papers.
She slid it into her purse, put it in the file cabinet behind her desk and locked the drawer.
As soon as her class was over, she hurried across the hall to Marie’s room. “I already had a strong suspicion, but I now know who did those drawings.”
Marie glanced up, then continued sorting a box of pieces that appeared to be from an old Erector Set. “Really.”
“Noah has been gone all week, and not one picture has appeared during his absence.”
“Good guess, then.”
Carrie stared at her. “I was already pretty sure. But you knew all along?”
Marie shrugged. “Let’s just say it wouldn’t surprise me.”
“And now the folder of drawings has disappeared from a locked desk in my room.” She caught the uncertainty in the older woman’s eyes. “Do you know about that, as well?”
Marie turned away, ostensibly to straighten the supplies on her desk. “Just let it go.”
“This child seems incredibly quiet. Disconnected. I know he must be grieving badly over his mother, and I wonder just how much counseling and support he’s really getting.” At Marie’s sharp glance, Carrie fell silent for a long moment. “I should have been told about things like this before the very first class this summer. Noah should be receiving extra help.”
“We don’t have resources in this district for extra services. Just do some research on children and grief. It takes time for anyone. And if you’ve met his family, you know that his father and aunt are very protective of him. Noah—for the most part—has done fine. I’m sure he’s moving beyond that unfortunate tragedy and is simply back to his normal, quiet self.”
Unfortunate tragedy?Carrie’s mouth dropped open at the sheer insensitivity of the woman’s remarks. “Then what about all the violent pictures he draws? With a river that flows red with blood? That doesn’t seem like the hallmark of a well-adjusted child to me.”
“What do you expect, after what happened in his life?” Marie taped the top of the cardboard box shut and turned to set it on a shelf in her supply closet. “He was in Miss Carson’s class last year. He was really troubled for the first half of the year, but he was seen by the school counselor once a month. By spring he started to do much better.”
Only once a month?“If he’s doing so well, why hasn’t he been in class all week?”
Marie glanced at the doorway, then raised an eyebrow when she looked back at Carrie. “Uh...he’s not the only kid who isn’t in school now. A lot of people are worried about their safety these days. Maybe you want to talk to Mr. Grover about this.”
Carrie turned toward the door to find the principal frowning at her. “I’m just worried, that’s all.”
He beckoned her out into the hallway. “As I said before, I understand that you’re new here.”
“But not new to teaching. And I’m—”
“Concerned. I understand that as well, and I’m trying very hard to be patient with you and with...with that other situation. But the resources you might have seen in a big-city classroom aren’t exactly what we can offer children here. In many ways I think the more intimate, caring educational setting of a small town can offer more. Would you agree it’s possible?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Ms. Randall. The teachers here know the kids practically from birth. There’s continuity here because staff turnover is rare, and they see the kids growing up throughout their school years, along with their siblings and cousins and neighbors. Our kids do well on the basic skills tests and college entrance exams. And because our student population is small, a child like Noah does not fall through the cracks.”
Carrie sighed. “I understand.”
“Weareopen to new teaching philosophies, but we believe in solid tradition, as well. You can be rest assured that he is receiving the consistency and quality of education that he needs until he is successfully launched toward college, trade school or whatever else he dreams of.” His bushy silver eyebrows drew together. “We do well with our tight budget, and will continue to do so—even with the very big cuts we’re facing next fall.”
He must have given this very speech before, and his words were logical and calm, delivered with an edge that made his true meaning clear. The system was entrenched. And no crusading, upstart teacher was going to rock the boat and still find herself employed.
“I understand,” she repeated, disappointment washing through her.
“Good, good.” He glanced at his watch. “Now I’m late. Afternoon, ladies.”
Carrie watched him bustle down the hall toward the exit. “That was sure helpful.”
