I decided to look for Noah, only to realize that I didn't know where his math class was. I didn't want to go back to the twins since that's where Mrs. Golladay would look first. There's Zeke...but I don't know where he would be either. Running didn't sound so bad for once so I continued. I ran through the halls, out of the school, and through the parking lot. I ran through the residential neighborhoods, trying to remember the way back to the Atkins house. Mr. Atkins should be home. He would know what to do.
After fifteen minutes, I slowed down to a walk so I could catch my breath. And to figure out where I was. I wish I paid more attention to the streets we took to get to school so I wouldn't be this lost. By now, math should be over and health should have started. Noah would see that I'm missing. Maybe he'll tell the teacher and the office. Maybe they'll tell him instead. Ugh. What to do, what to do.
A car honked. I jumped and looked around. A black and white cop car with the words, county sheriff, pulled up next to me. The driver side window rolled down to reveal a middle aged man with a gray mustache. "What are you doing out here in the cold, kid?"
I shrugged. I'm not sure anymore.
His eyes narrowed. "I received a call, reporting a suspicious teen for just roaming around in circles." I blinked. I was going in circles. "Is there a reason you're not in school?"
Yes. I nodded. There was definitely a reason I wasn't in school.
"Are you trying to go home?"
I nodded some more. Yes. Exactly. I want to go back to the Atkins house.
"I'm not really good at charades kid. I'm also not a fan of twenty questions. Why don't I give you a lift home and we can talk with your parents?"
I ran my fingers through my hair. Then I thought of a solution. I stepped closer to the cop car and mimicked writing on paper.
He looked shocked. "Oh. You're a mute? You can just take some paper out of your bag to tell me where to go."
I hurriedly went through my bag and grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. Then I started to scribble.
"Lost. Don't remember address. Looking for the Atkins home." I showed him.
His eyebrows disappeared under his bangs. "Usually older kids like you aren't this dumb. You must be autistic. Get in the backseat and I'll take you to the station. We'll talk more there."
I got in the back, feeling extremely embarrassed. I wasn't dumb or mentally lacking. I just...I can't find the words. I held my tears back as he drove throughout the unfamiliar houses. We arrived at the county sheriffs department and walked in together. The police department had an open setup with ten desks in a giant size area. He led me to one and we sat down on either side.
He pointed at his nameplate. "I'm deputy O'Brien. Can you tell me your name?"
I wrote down 'Jake Hollander' and showed him.
"Good. Good. Now, if you can't remember your address, do you think you can remember a phone number for your parents? Home, cell, or work phone numbers?" I shook my head no. I didn't bother learning any of that since I always had Noah. "Okay. How about I look up your parents names?"
I frowned. He kept saying parents this, parents that. But I don't acknowledge either of them. What if...I did this? I scribbled on my sheet of paper. "Foster parents: Wayne and Mary Atkins. Social worker: Doug Duncan. Doctor: Dr. Moore. Best friend: Noah Atkins." I passed it over, hoping he could make do with that.
"Oh." He replied, surprised. He thoughtfully tapped his desk as he looked at the paper. Then he looked at me. "You're not trying to run away from them are you? Are you in danger in any way?"
I shook my head vigorously and snatched my paper back to add a note. "They're nice. Super nice. I want to go back to their house." I handed it back.
He thought it over and made a face. Then sighed. "Okay. First off, I'm going to see if they have called to ask about your whereabouts. You can't be reported missing until 24 hours, but maybe they're worried and called. Next step is to reach out to child protective services and your case worker. Just to be sure that this family isn't coercing you in any way. Then we'll go from there. Sound good?"
I nodded.
Deputy O'Brien started making phone calls and spoke with others. I sat back feeling a little more relaxed like I did before being called into Mrs. Golladay's office. I held my backpack in my lap and waited. And waited.
"Jake!" A familiar voice cried out from the entrance. I turned to see Mrs. Atkins speed walking my way and then she broke out into a jog. She stood by me in seconds. "Jake, where have you been? We were so worried! Where did you go? Are you okay? What exactly happened? Is something wrong?"
I started to tear up again. So much concern. From a woman that's a mother, but not my own.
"Jake? Jake?" She became blurry as the tears came out and skewed my vision. She turned to the deputy. "Are you O'Brien? We got your call and I rushed right over. What's happening? Where did you grab Jake from? He should be at baseball practice right now, not an intimidating police department."
Deputy O'Brien fixed up his desk, pulling out some notes. "I found Jake Hollander on the corner of Rolling Hills and Wilson Avenue. He looked cold, confused and too young to be on his own during school hours, so I pulled over to ask some questions, which he was unable to answer."
"Jake's a mute." She quickly came to my defense.
The deputy nodded. "Yes. We established that. And then settled on notes for communication. He was unable to list an address or phone numbers. But he was able to list names." He tapped my notebook paper with my chicken scratch on it. "I made some calls and found that you were already looking for him."
So soon? Did Noah call her?
Mrs. Atkins nodded, and crossed her arms over her chest. "My youngest son has the same classes as Jake. When he didn't show up to the last class of the day, he sent me a text. I immediately called the school to find out where my kids are. They had the nerve to tell me that Jake isn't my kid even though I'm listed as his guardian. Let me tell you, I want to file a complaint with the county for the schools lack of supervision."
"And that brings up my next phone call." The deputy stood up. "The school reported Jake Hollander as a truant. As he was picked up by me, an officer of the county, I'll have to write him up."
"Write him up?" Mrs. Atkins jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding."
"I'm not." He looked down at me. "Jake, did you or did you not leave school campus during class hours?" I nodded. "That means that you skipped. An unauthorized absence is frowned upon. Education is vital to your future. Understand?" I nodded again. "This is your first offense so you'll get off with a warning. Next time you get caught with an unauthorized absence, and marked truant, it'll go on your permanent record and your parent or guardian will be fined $2500."
I gulped. That's a lot. For just skipping class? I looked up at Mrs. Atkins, sorry for dragging her down with me.