The Fall of the Aftons

041: Michael Afton

"Michael, who's coming to pick you up?" Michael's teacher, Mrs. Stewart, asked, concerned about her youngest pupil. "Is your brother not coming today?"

Why did all of the teachers treat him like a baby? It was annoying. Sure, he was a year younger than his peers. But that didn't mean he was a baby that had to be coddled and treated differently than everyone else. 

Michael sighed. "He's not my brother, ma'am," he told his teacher. "He's my cousin. But he is the one who is supposed to retrieve me."

Mrs. Stewart shrugged and walked back inside the school. That's against the rules, Michael though. She wasn't supposed to leave him alone until William picked him up an hour or two later. But William was working late tonight. He wasn't supposed to get home till around ten at night. So, since he was left with no adult supervision and with no Terrance to walk him home, Michael sighed and left to go to the playground. Not the school playground--the playground that was behind the Center. It was the one that William told him to go to whenever Terrance "forgot" to pick him up. The playground wasn't far from the school, just two blocks away. That way, once he got there, he'd be under Miss Iaea's supervision since Felicity was always outside. Now that spring had rolled around again, she could play outside.

As soon as Michael arrived at the playground, he went straight to the bench and sat down as he waited for his friend. He slung his backpack next to him and pulled out the book he was reading. He had read all of his books, both nonfiction and fiction, numerous times already and they were starting to get boring. So, when he and his class visited the school library, he looked around for a new one. He had come across this one, one on American Sign Language. It reminded him of the time he had seen two people communicating with their hands at the store, and when he had asked William about it, he had told him that they were using sign language. It looked fun and interesting, so he checked out the book from the library to read.

"Back again, Mike?" Felicity asked. Her voice made Michael jump. He turned around on the bench to face her as she stepped out of the shadows of a large tree. "Miss us already?"

Michael gasped excitedly when he saw a tiny boy standing wobbly next to Felicity. The little boy, whose name was unknown, was just a baby. He was close to being one year old. He had a warm shade of tan for skin and super dark brown hair, similar to William's but a different shade. He had heterochromia, with one navy blue eye and one emerald green eye. His eyes were always red from crying--Felicity once said that he cried over the slightest things--but it didn't affect anything. He was still an adorable little kid. He didn't know how to talk yet, but he knew how to walk. Well, sorta. He was still learning, and he often toppled over and wavered on his little feet.

"You brought him outside again!" Michael exclaimed, his voice filled with eagerness.

"Sí, I did," she replied as she lifted the little boy from the muddy ground.

"What's his name? Have the police discovered it yet? Or do they still only know his middle name?" he asked as he stood up and walked around the bench. He carefully took the boy from Felicity's arms and rested him on his hip.

Felicity sighed. "No, not yet. Only his middle name, which is Christopher, by the way. I don't think I told you yet." She chuckled. "Everyone is calling him Chris now."

The boy thrust his tongue into his cheek. Michael laughed and copied him, causing the little boy to giggle. Michael laughed more, and Felicity soon joined in before she took the boy back.

"I have to bring him back inside. Miss Iaea doesn't want me to lose him. He's so young. You saw yourself how protective she gets of her littles," Felicity explained with a touch of laughter in her voice. Then she quickly walked off as the little boy happily shouted gibberish at her.

Michael sat back down on the bench and opened his book to the page he'd been on last. He quickly slipped into the world of information about Deaf people and their wonderful, creative language of hand motions.

"Hey, your name is Mike, right?" somebody's young voice asked.

Michael refused to give the person any of his attention until he finished the page he was on. He sighed and looked up, surprised to see a boy from his class. The boy's name was Simon. He was the second youngest in his class, so he was picked on a little bit, but not as much as Michael. The kids actually listened to Simon when he asked them to stop making fun of him. It was a trait that Michael envied a little bit.

"What're you doing here by yourself? Where's your mum and dad?" Simon asked, intrigued to see Michael all alone with no adult supervision.

Michael tilted his head in curiosity and confusion. Simon had been in his class since the beginning of kindergarten. He was one of the ones constantly mocking Michael, too. Mike had been coming to this park almost every day since first grade, and he often saw this boy here when it was warm outside. Was Simon just oblivious and ignorant? Michael couldn't stand people like that. They were hard to talk to, with their immaturity and incapability to process partially complex things. That's why he preferred to be with either the smarter kids, the adults, or by himself with nobody around to bother him.

"My father hasn't arrived yet," Michael answered plainly. His voice was quiet. He didn't want to talk to Simon. He wanted to return to his book. 

"Would you like to play with me?" Frederick asked kindly. A giant, expecting smile spread across his face. A gap between his two front teeth showed extravagantly. 

Michael glanced at where William typically parked to pick him up. His father hadn't arrived yet. Then he glanced over to the Center. Felicity hadn't returned. It was close to snack time. She probably had to stay inside for the rest of the day.

"Sure," he reluctantly agreed after a heavy sigh. But before he could even get up to play, somebody called his name.

"Oh, thank God, you're okay!" the person yelled, a hint of relief and ecstasy in their voice. The voice was easy to recognize--it was Terrance's. "Why the fuck did you come here? I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"I bet you were," Michael muttered as he rolled his eyes. He scowled at Terrance. "You haven't come to pick me up and walk me home since first grade!" He stood up, put his book in his backpack, slipped the bag over his shoulders, then pulled up his hood and stormed off. "Let's go home already. Then you can go 'chill out'"--he finger-quoted--"with your friends."

He quickened his pace, leaving the others in his dust. He didn't want to spend a minute more speaking to incompetent Terrance, and he certainly didn't want to spend any more time wasting brain cells on ignorant Simon.

"Michael, wait!" Terrance shouted. Michael could hear the thumps of his cousin's feet as he struggled to catch up. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Michael stopped walking and turned to face his cousin. Surprised, Terrance stopped, too.

"You haven't come to bring me home since first grade!" Michael explained, his voice spilling over with anger and disappointment. "As soon as I turned five, you stopped doing anything with me! You've spent all of your time with your friends from school."

"What the hell are you even talking about? I've come to pick you up almost every day!" He sighed. "Every time I come to get you, you're gone. And whenever I go to the school office and call home, William always tells me he brought you home."

"Terrance, your wing of the school is let out earlier than mine. How do you fail to arrive on time to pick me up?" When his cousin didn't answer, Michael scoffed. "That's what I thought."

Michael walked off again, his feet heavy with rage. Terrance hesitantly followed after him. They walked in silence to their house.