The silent school - ENG. ver.

Chapter 3

(...They thought they were now doomed, needing to pray to some deity for a miracle, and so it happened.
There was a knock at the door...)

"Come in" said the professor.

A policeman entered with an authoritative demeanor, with his colleague waiting in the hallway.

"Are you Mr. McClain?" he asked.

"Yes. Yes, I am" he replied immediately.

"Please come with me."

"Of course. Class, be quiet."

He left the classroom, a sense of anxiety about to surface, but it was pushed back by some deep breaths.

"How can I help you?" he asked.

"We are conducting some investigations and are asking all the teachers for information."

"About what exactly?"

"Regarding Lucas, the boy who disappeared a week ago. We believe this was the last place he was seen."

He felt a pain in his stomach and his forehead began to sweat.

"I'll be happy to tell you everything I know about that poor boy."

To avoid disturbing the other classes, they moved to an empty room and started a sort of interrogation that went on for almost an hour.

"That's all, sir. Thank you for answering our questions," said one of them.

"You're welcome," Robert replied, "Happy to have been of help in some way."

"You were, and if you remember anything else, please come and tell us."

"Will do."

He waited for the two officers to leave the room before heading back to the classroom to continue what he had left unfinished. However, through the door they had closed behind them, he heard the following words: "We should check the courtyard cameras, don't you think?"

At that moment, his body turned to stone, and he couldn't breathe. Only what the colleague answered reassured him, giving him a bit of hope: "Let's do it tomorrow, my wife is waiting for me and I told her I’d be home by noon."

He had some time and had to use it immediately. He left the room, heading to the surveillance room to fix the footage.

"Professor, what are you doing here?" asked Danny as he walked down the hallway.

"What are you doing here, young man? You should be in class," he replied.

"Well, I'm coming back from the bathroom."

"Sure, I imagine so" he said, noticing his slightly red eyes, "Now get back to class, if I'm not mistaken, you should have Italian now."

"Yes, you’re right."

"Then go."

The bell rang, forcing the professor to return to class to get his things and head to his next lesson. He remained with his head in the clouds the entire time, thinking about what he should be doing instead of sitting there explaining one of the many wars, until recess. He got up immediately when the hour ended and went downstairs to where the surveillance room was, only to find it locked. He looked around for the keys to the door.

"Oh, that door won't be opened until tomorrow" said a voice approaching him.

It was the science teacher, a fairly tall man with gray hair and eyes dark as ink.

"Why?" he asked, curious and a bit worried.

"Apparently, the police don’t want anyone to go in until tomorrow, so it will stay locked until they're done."

"I understand, thanks for letting me know."

"You're welcome."

He had no other choice but to return to doing what he did best: pretending that everything was going perfectly. It was one of his skills that few understood, the ability to mask the reality of things.
Someone had started looking at him differently, imagining him in one of those situations from which one cannot escape with lies, but only with well-thought-out and executed plans. His name was Nicholas, the dark-haired boy who always sat quietly with his classmate, one of those students the teacher adored. He had been suspicious for a while, but certainly didn’t want to reveal it to all his acquaintances, except for his handsome and intelligent friend named:

"Mason. Now do me a favor and calm down" he said, looking him in the eyes.

"Okay, sorry," replied the raven-haired boy.

"I just told you that lately Mr. McClain has been acting strangely."

"And what if he’s somehow involved with Lucas's disappearance?"

"Have you always been so dramatic? I was thinking more of a theft at the bar."

"Indeed, he doesn’t seem like a bad person, but that’s precisely why he could be the one."

"Sure... listen, think what you want and write a story about it while you’re at it. I'm going back to minding my own business if you don’t mind."

And so he did.

Nicholas was not someone who dedicated persistence to things, and as soon as he smelled the effort and commitment necessary to discover what the teacher was really doing, he decided to give up. Unlike Mason, who, as soon as he got home, immediately started thinking about how and why Robert could have committed such repugnant acts.

"So, what motives could he have?" he kept thinking while sitting on his bed, which still smelled fresh. He got up, took a black marker, approached the wall to the right of his desk, and began to write on it: "Robert Case." He couldn't think of a more imaginative name and had just realized he had ruined the white wall of his room. Things couldn’t get worse, or at least that's what he would have thought if he hadn't heard his mother’s footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Mason! Come down, your uncle has come to visit you!" she yelled.

He could hear her approaching the door, ready to open it and come in. Quickly, he grabbed a green and red plaid blanket and hung it over the writing with some tape. His mother entered.

"Did you hear me?" she asked.

"Yes, Mom, I'm coming" he replied.

"Uh, okay. And what’s that?" she pointed to the blanket.

"It's a school project. You know how it is with art."

"Sure, I’ll be waiting downstairs."

As soon as she left, closing the door, the blanket fell, surprising the boy with the incredible hold of the tape, which usually couldn't even hold two sheets together.

"I’ll have to think of something else" he said aloud.

The next morning, unusually, he got up enthusiastic and went to school almost skipping with joy and inspiration.

"What's gotten into you?" his friend asked as soon as he entered the classroom.

It was strange to see him so cheerful since he usually tended to hide what he felt, showing only glimpses of his emotions. However, all this fervor was immediately extinguished by the entrance of one person: Isabel.