He walked the two blocks to school, with his parents’ row still buzzing through his head.
He left home abruptly. He’s been given no lunch today. He arrives early and takes his seat in an empty room. At his desk, he wonders, as he often does, what their home lives are like… these children around him. He has no real friends, but he thinks he should ask them anyway.
Now, late afternoon, he sits at his desk crouched over his book pretending to read down the page. His teacher has asked them all to do this. The words and the illustrations have no meaning for him. His head is still full of anger; his own, along with other peoples’. At home it never stops.
A siren sounds in the distance.
It falls silent.
At a house just a couple of blocks away, a police car sits outside his home. Inside, two officers have responded to a domestic disturbance. A man stands in handcuffs, whimpering. A bloody knife is secured in a plastic bag. A woman lies motionless.
Back in the classroom, there’s a tap on the door. He’s escorted to the headmaster’s office, where he’s told that his auntie will be collecting him today.
Some children get a better start in life than others…