Falling Out of Time

Mark | Kindergarten

Kindergarten

Mark wanted to go home.

Kids played all around him, their voices bouncing off the colorful walls of the classroom, but he wasn't having any fun. Huddled in a corner closest to the bookshelves, he watched as his classmates made new friends without him. No one approached his beanbag chair; no one even looked at him. If this was what school was like, he hated it — and it was only the first day.

"Okay, boys and girls," Mrs. Iberman announced, clapping her hands. "All toys need to be put away and the craft table cleaned of any mess. Make sure all books are back on the shelves, and if you need to go potty, do so now. It's nap time!"

Mark moved warily around the rest of the kids, trying to stay out of the way. He wasn't used to talking to anyone except his brother, Ronnie, but that didn't count — Ronnie was just a baby. He stood off to the side as Mrs. Iberman wheeled out the cots and arranged them around the room. One by one, friends picked cots together and bounced with excitement.

"Which one's mine?"

Mark jumped at the sound of a high voice next to him. He turned and found a head of wild curls staring back, her eyes curious. He remembered seeing her at the beginning of the day; she was wearing a green dress, his favorite color.

"W-what?" Mark felt a familiar cramping in his tummy, the one he'd had all morning.

"Which one's mine?" she asked again, pointing at the cots.

"I don't know," he answered, squirming uncomfortably.

"Hmmm." She stared at the cots a minute longer, then looked at him again. "Which one's yours?"

Mark was on the brink of tears now. "I don't know."

"Then I want this one," she announced, tugging at the cot closest to them. Mark watched silently as she climbed on top and tucked herself under the covers without another word.

Now that he helped her, she didn't need him anymore. Twisting his fingers so he wouldn't cry, he started to wander off.

"Where are you going?"

Her voice took him by surprise again. When he glanced back, she was sitting up in the cot, arms crossed. Mark didn't know where he was going, but he didn't want to keep repeating the same answer.

"To find a bed."

"You have to sleep next to me," she insisted with a pout. Clambering out of her cot again, she pulled one over until the edges were only inches apart. "See? Right here."

"O-Okay," Mark said softly, rushing over to the cot. The cramp in his stomach dissolved into excited jitters.

"Alright, boys and girls, eyes and mouths closed. Sweet dreams, little ones."

The lights around them dimmed until Mark could barely see. Curling up under his blanket, he began to drift off.

"Psst."

It was so soft, Mark wasn't sure he heard anything. Seconds later, he felt the girl tap his arm.

"Can you hold my hand?"

"What?" He scooted closer to hear her better. Mrs. Iberman said no talking, but this girl was the first person to see him all day. He wouldn't ignore her.

"Can you hold my hand," she repeated, leaning in over the space. "I'm scared of going to sleep."

Mark knew what it was like to be scared. He reached over and took her hand. It felt soft and warm, kind of like his mom's. The curve of her smile reminded him of her, too — back when his mom used to smile.

"I'm Amber," the girl whispered from her cot.

He grinned back. "Mark."

Their hands dangled together in the space between their cots. They didn't say anything else, but Mark watched Amber until his eyes drooped, the pull of sleep tugging him down.

I have a friend, was his last thought before he drifted off to sleep.