He was more concerned about the man who came from the woods at night and walked along the perimeter of the yard in that strange way, like one of those puppets held up by strings; the parts move and you have to pretend it’s alive. He had seen a puppet show like that at school once. There was a tiny stage and curtain in the front of the classroom and this weird, funny, fat man was there making the puppets dance and move on stage. Jacob watched the puppets but he also watched the man whose face hovered just over the curtains as he told a story and the puppets acted it out. The man smiled in a strange way and the puppets moved by his unseen hands. Maybe that was who was outside the window at night, Jacob thought. Maybe it was the puppet man.
His mother kissed him goodbye and watched him from the driveway as he stood with three other children at the stop sign, waiting for his bus. Jacob said hello to them but didn’t speak much after that. He kept his hands busy by adjusting his backpack. It was cold out today. Not cold enough to see his breath, but cold enough to make the wait seem eternal. The bus could be heard across the whole neighborhood. The rolling hills and trees didn’t block its big diesel engine and squealing brakes. When it pulled up he was the last to climb the steps into that big tube on wheels that smelled like vinyl and rubber. His mother stood at the top of the driveway, arms crossed to keep her hands warm, and watched him as he passed by encased in glass and steel.
Jacob had yet to fully understand the large building that was the Region 12 Consolidated Elementary School. Their town was small and shared the school with neighboring Burlington. It was his first year at this place, which still seemed huge and strange despite his having come here nearly every day for the past two and a half months. The first few days left him in tears, trying to find his way to his classroom, trying to understand the rules, trying to decipher the orders from his teacher and the directions his classmates constantly spilled out at him as if they had been attending classes for years. Now, at least, he knew the routine. But still, the school branched off into long, dark hallways, doors appeared out of nowhere, and in the bathrooms older kids would mingle and laugh and stare as he stood before the urinal. When he had to pee, he waited until the midpoint of class so that he could be relatively sure he’d be alone. Without the throngs of other kids stumbling through the hallways, bumping, talking over one another, pushing him this way and that with their over-large bodies, the cheaply tiled hallways seemed to yawn like the open mouth of a cave, hiding doors to other worlds. His first week at this school, Jacob accidentally went to the wrong class and sat down at a desk. He still couldn’t understand why they had to go to different classrooms to learn different things; why didn’t the teachers just walk to the classroom he was in so he didn’t have to navigate the maze of doors and classroom numbers? But he sat down with a sick, uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Somehow, he already knew he was in the wrong place. Things just didn’t look right. The kids looked slightly bigger than him, slightly more knowledgeable. They looked at him and then seemed to purposely ignore his presence, but he was lost at this point and didn’t know what else to do, so he waited.
As soon as the teacher began her lesson, he knew he was in the wrong place. But now, with an entire classroom of older boys and girls, all with two eyes with which to stare at him, he kept his silence. Finally, the teacher’s eyes found him sitting in the second-to-last row.
“I don’t recognize you,” she said. Her hair was so blonde it was practically white and there were lines in her face that deepened when she spoke to him. “What’s your name?”
“Jacob Hollis.”
“Are you sure you’re in the right class, Jacob?”
“Umm…”
“How old are you?” Now he was being grilled, and he felt his stomach tightening.
“Seven…”
“No. You’re in the wrong class. What class are you supposed to be in?”
Jacob didn’t know.
“Well, march down to the main office and talk to them. They’ll get you to the right place.” Her voice was harsh, and she watched as Jacob stood from the desk that wasn’t his own and walked back out the door. The other kids laughed quietly as he left. No one held his hand; no one told him where to go or what to do. It was just him, alone, in this monstrosity of a place.
That feeling had not yet left him and he wondered if it ever would. He wondered what this place was supposed to do for him, why there was so much emphasis on coming here, enduring here. In this place, surrounded by other kids, he felt alone.
There was something different about today, though. Although he was never happy or comfortable here, he had begun
