The Whereabouts of Arthur

Chapter 3

There isn't always an answer to every question that is asked. I used to ask annoying questions as a kid. I never fully realized that my questions were rude. I had a teacher of the name "Mrs. Butterfield, in first grade." One day in class I raised my hand and asked her,

"Why do you teach when you don't know nothing?"

It was a genuine question, with ironic grammatical errors. I sincerly thought that Mrs. Butterfield didn't know much and so I wanted to know why she was a teacher. I was a smart child. Not book smart, but I knew what was going on in the world. Although sometimes the most obvious things would fly by me unnoticeably, like a mosquito.

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Friday. It was Friday. I thought about maybe faking a cough, but how could I perform a good enough artficial cough? Then I thought that I could fake a stomach ache but I pulled that card too much in first grade for my mother to be convinced. I got up that morning fairly quick. I wanted to get the day done with. I thought maybe that by Monday, my first day in New Orleans Elementary, that I would not remember even  attending Riverbank Elementary. I walked down the stairs and sat on the couch in the living room. I put my arms on the arm rest of the couch, drowning my arms in maroon fabric.

"Here you go Carter, your favorite!" Squaked my mother.

I didn't expect my mother to prepare me a breakfast, that by the looks of it, she used every varity of breakfast foods known to man. The plate consisited of fields of yellow scrambled eggs, sizzling bacon, warm toast, checkered waffles and a swirled pastery in which I've never seen before.

"Enjoy..." She said again, sounding more concerned than excited.

"What's the matter Carter? Do you not want the eggs?" My mother spoke looking into the air.

"Are you making me food so that I feel better about today being my last day at Riverbank. It's fine. Im actually happy about going to a new school." I said while the sizzling bacon interrupted my words.

"Great, great honey, that's great!" Yelled my mother.

Great. I remember thinking that that was such an overused and now meaningless word.

"Yeah, it's great!" I forced out of my vocal cords.

I arrived at school a few minutes after my mother had presented me  the overdressed plate. It felt unusually usual. I walked into English class and placed my knapsack in my cubby. I used to take so much pride in my cubby. I had stickers galore. Mickey Mouse infested the walls of my cubby. My third grade teacher made a gesture towards the large calendar in the corner of the room.

"What's today?" Asked Ms. Roose with too much excitement.

"Friday!" The kids screamed back.

I didn't however. I wanted to get through the day and pretend I never went to Riverbank Elementary.

"What's the date?" Ms. Roose yelled.

"March 11th, 1935!" The kids responded incoherently.

 A few hours passed and then came any student's favorite five letter word; Lunch. I used to sit with Paul and Rich but they didn't hold interest in me anymore. I walked up to the back of the lunch line. I was standing behind a girl, whom at first I didn't recognize. Then I realized that it was Allison. Allison Pol. Allison was a very strange individual. Allison's head grew billions of darkened curls and a charmingly lop-sided nose. What I found more interesting than the visionary of her, was her demeanor. Allison was always kind to every human being. She was picked on a lot. A lot could be an understatement. I, on the other hand, was invisible to those kids.