Side Story - Lorcan

1982

It was the first day of first grade and he wasn’t there.

He fought and cried and had a whole tantrum last night because he didn’t want to go to school. It had worked the previous two years when his parents wanted to send him to kindergarten.

But this year it wasn’t his father who put his foot down and was overruled, it was his mother. Apparently she “got a job” and “couldn’t be there to teach him at home anymore.” He had suggested that he could go to school at Grandma’s house but it was an unequivocal “no, young man.”

So here he was, throwing rocks at the big, fat rat that was creeping ever so near to where he was sitting on the bench behind the library eating the sandwich that was supposed to be for lunch.

He looks down at the crossword puzzle in his lap. Three letter initial for the 35th president of the United States.

He swallows the last bite of his sandwich and wipes the crumbs off the corners of his lips. Looking around to make sure no adults are around he puts his hand into the pocket of his jean jacket and pulls out the crumbled little cigarette.

He puts it in his mouth and takes out the small matchbox his mom puts on top of the fridge. It takes him a few tries and a few broken matches to get a flame. He brings it close to the head of the cigarette and hesitates.

He moves the flame to the front and then waves the match. He holds the cigarette in his mouth, the faint smell of tobacco tickling his nose. He watches and waits. He’s seen his father do this hundreds of times.

He brings it out of his mouth and tries to blow smoke out but nothing comes. He looks at the cigarette confused and checks to see if it’s actually boring. Hmmm.

“Sally says that’s bad for you.”

A small little voice causes Lorcan to look up and see a small little child standing in front of him. They have their hands gripping the straps of their backpack. The rat moves to chew on their shoelace.

“Who’s Sally?” Lorcan asks.

The child watches the rat gnaw on their white lace and doesn’t make any move to kick it away. “My older brother.”

Lorcan puts the cigarette back into his mouth and watches the kid. They look familiar. Maybe he’s seen them around town? They’re small but they don’t look much younger than him. They could be the same age.

The kid bends down and runs their hand through the rat’s matted fur. Lorcan makes a grossed out face. The kid’s hand moves down to the rat’s tail and it jerks, making Lorcan inhale. An acrid taste fills his mouth and goes down his throat.

He spits the cigarette out and coughs violently. He hits his chest with his fist. The kid sits crouched on the ground as he continues his coughing fit. After spitting out globs of spit Lorcan swallows painfully and wipes his running eyes.

He locks eyes with the kid and expects them to taunt him with “I told you” so’s, but they keep a closed mouth and an apathetic expression. Lorcan stomps out the cigarette and swears to never smoke again.

He puts the pencil to the crossword and tries to think of the word he had in mind before he was interrupted.

He looks up to see the kid still there in the same position, staring at him. Their eyes bug him. They seem to not look like the eyes everyone else has. But they have all the things eyes have. Nothing’s missing. Weird.

“What are you doing?” they ask.

You look down at your crossword and then at them. “It’s a crossword.” They stand up and go back to gripping the straps of their backpack.

“What’s the hint?”

You tell them and they look at nowhere for a second before saying, “it’s JFK.”

They turn around and walk away, not looking back once as Lorcan’s eyes watch their figure get smaller and smaller. Once they’re out of eyesight he writes down the letters and flips to the end of the book to check.

“Weirdo,” he says.

He looks at the big clock mounted above the doors of the library. “Crap” he says and quickly shoves his things into his backpack.

He closes it and pulls up his backpack. His eyes randomly land to where the kid was standing and he sees a little plastic piece. He bends down and picks it up. He doesn’t remember the word for this but it’s the plastic end to a shoelace. It was the thing the rat chewed off.

For some reason, he doesn’t know why and he will never know but he puts the piece into his pocket. The first of many things that over the years he would take from them without reflection.