Rainy days and Mondays

He was a small tight ball of flesh in the foyer. About the size of one of those beach balls that are tossed around concerts or sporting events. He wrapped his arms around his legs and tucked his head in between his knees and made himself as tiny and as invisible as he could. He tried to just disappear. When Mrs. Marva walked into the office the tension was high. 

“We have to get him on the bus,” from the secretary.

“I don’t know how we’re going to get him on that bus,” said the aide.

“The buses are leaving and so are we,” from another aide. “It’s time to roll the buses! Let’s go!”

“Can you just pick him up and get him on the bus?” again from the secretary.

“Are we going that route again?” said the first aide as she rolled her eyes to the second aide.

Mrs. Marva peeked out into the foyer. She knew the student. He was one of her students. As a Special Education teacher in the building, she had the fortune of working with certain students for many years and getting to know them. This particular student she had been building a relationship with for three years now. “Do you mind if I go talk to him?” she asked.

“Go ahead, but be talking to him as you walk him on the bus!” the secretary told her. “We are locking the doors behind you.”

Mrs. Marva plopped down on the tile next to the ball of clothes. “Hey Charley, you seem pretty upset. What’s happening?”

Charley peeked his tear streaked face at her. His lips parted to speak when the doors opened and arms scooped him up. One aide had him by his arms and one had him by his legs. He was being carried out the double glass doors and down the sidewalk to the waiting bus. 

“NOOOOO!” Charley yelled.

“Here we go again,” said the bus driver. “He’s gotta stay in his seat this time or I’m not leavin’ the parking lot.”

The aides struggled to wrestle the eight year old on the bus. He was tiny for his age, but all bones and might. He learned he needed to fight for what he needed or wanted in life. He wouldn't stop today. He put his legs on either side of the door and pushed. The two aides almost toppled backwards. They doubled their efforts and pushed harder to get him up the stairs. 

Mrs. Marva followed the trio out onto the sidewalk. She watched helplessly as her student tried to get out of the women’s hands. 

Charley was forced into a seat in the second row on the right side of the bus. This way the bus driver could keep an eye on him as he was driving. The moment the aides took their hands off him, he popped up off the seat and tried to run. The aides blocked the aisle. Charley dove over the seat. The student sitting there cried out in alarm, but one aide was able to deflect the force of the incoming body. The other aide wrapped her arms around him and pulled him back into his seat. 

“Listen, I’m not paid to stay past 3:30. I’m not ridin’ this bus. It’s not in my job description neither,” said the aide.

The other aide agreed, “Yeah, I’m not stayin’ on here either. You gotta sit here and ride the bus.”

Mrs. Marva climbed up the stairs and stared at the trio. She looked at the bus driver who just shook his head. “Charley, would you like me to ride with you?”

One aide wiped her forehead with her forearm and said, "Best of luck to ya." They both walked down the steps and into the parking lot. Neither of them made eye contact with Charley or Mrs. Marva. The bus slowly rolled out of the school parking lot, about thirty minutes later than its normal departure time because it had taken so long to get Charley on the bus. However, now they were on their way and driving around the city. It seemed like the bus was making an awful lot of stops. Mrs. Marva never realized how much school buses crisscrossed the city before. This bus had stops all over the place! My goodness! How do students even keep track of where their houses are or where their bus stops are? And, how long does this bus route last anyway? It seemed like they had passed the same neighborhood several times now. Finally she had to ask the bus driver, and where will you be dropping Charley off again? She couldn’t remember if this was mom’s weekend or Grandpa’s. 

“Charley won’t be dropped off until we cross over to the East Side, Mrs. Marva,” the bus driver said. “We have a ways to go yet.”

“East Side? That’s in our district? Really? I didn’t even think…”

“MV I believe, if ya know what I mean Mrs. Marva.” 

Oh, homeless. Well, that explains some of his behavior. Why aren’t all the teachers made aware of these things? And the aides certainly should be told! They may have a bit more compassion for the little guy if they know he’s homeless and being put on a bus to go...home? What does home even mean to him anymore? How can anyone expect him to learn when he doesn’t even have a home? Where did his home go? Who is his home? When did this happen? Poor Charley.

She glances down at the tiny boy sitting next to her on the orange vinyl seat. He cradles his blue backpack. The tear stains leave white streaks on his red sweaty cheeks. His navy t-shirt hangs loose on his narrow shoulders, the jeans are too short and too hot to be wearing on a hot June day. One shoelace is untied and the other is knotted rather than tied in a bow. He sits like a limp noodle. Defeated. The sky is growing darker and so is his face. The thunder begins to roll.

As the bus crosses over the bridge to the East Side, Charley looks up and asks, “What day is it?”

“Don’t say it,” the bus driver says at the same time Mrs. Marva says, “Friday.”

Lightning flashes and the backpack is thrown. Charley whirls in his seat, fists in the air and starts one, two, three punches at Mrs. Marva. He hits her in the chin, in the cheek, in the chest. She is stunned. Too stunned to stop him at first and then she tries to grab hold of his hands. “Charley? Charley! What’s the matter?” The rain spatters the windshield. 

She has his hands, so he butts her with his head into her chin and her chest. Thunder crashes again, closer this time. He tries to bring his feet up into the seat to kick her. He starts to scratch at her hands and arms. The rain starts to come down in great big drops. The bus driver turns on the wipers. Charley quickly draws blood, but she holds onto the wild child in her arms. She isn’t sure what happened to spark this fury. The rain is now coming down in sheets. Thunder crashes as he bends down to sink his teeth into her flesh and bites down as hard as he can. She pushes back until he has to release. Now they are wrapped in a bear hug. Mrs. Marva glances across the aisle to see a dark stain forming on the kindergarten student’s shorts, a tell-tale puddle on the floor beneath. “It’s okay Henry,” she reassures the student. “Charley is just having a hard time right now. You’re okay and he’s okay.” The rain slows to a steady downpour. The windshield is fogged over. Mrs. Marva wonders how the driver can even see the road.

Mrs. Marva turns so she can whisper in Charley’s other ear. “I’m trying to help you. Can you tell me what’s happening?”

“Mom said I was going to Grandpa’s house,” Charley said. 

*********

If Charley had gone to Grandpa’s house, he would have come back to school on Monday. He would have come into school to tell everyone about the weekend he had spent with his cousins. He liked going to his Grandpa’s house because that was the place where he could play. Grandpa had video games that he liked to play. Grandpa had a yard with grass so he could play outside. At Grandpa's house he didn't have to shove his clothes under the door to try to keep the cigarette smoke from crawling in to smother his breath and make him sneeze and wheeze. Grandpa always made sure to have Fruit Loops and milk with the green label. He was never hungry there. He had a place to sleep. Grandpa had a bedroom just for him to sleep in when he came to visit. He had Grandpa to look over him and take care of him.

Charley told us he wanted to go to Grandpa’s house. He told us pretty loudly and very clearly. He shouted that he wanted to go to Grandpa’s house. He screamed that he wanted to go to Grandpa’s house. He said it with words and with fists. He told his teachers, the aides, the secretary, and the bus driver. He told all of us that he wanted to go to Grandpa’s house. 

But we didn’t listen.