Bringing the Light

3. Arlene

Something is not right in that house. But I just can't prove it.

Stephen is a sweet, sweet kid. But his teachers keep calling us saying they think he's being abused. He comes to school, when he goes to school, in threadbare clothes. Often in the same clothes for several days in a row. He always seems hungry and more often than not, his mother, for lack of a better term, seems to forget to pack him a lunch or fill his lunch account.

And there's the bruises. His teachers say he often has bruises on his arms. But he always wears long sleeves. They'd only noticed because he'd pulled up his sleeves for an activity and when his teacher commented, he said they were from playing with his friends.

Except Stephen doesn't seem to actually have any friends. Not at school, anyway. His teachers have said he often spends recess alone in a corner of the playground, just watching the other kids. None of the kids engage with him and the teachers try to encourage him to play and make friends, but often, he just sits under a tree and watches his schoolmates. Or he reads.

I want to say he's antisocial, but he isn't. When I can talk to him, he's very bright and engaging. He's a funny kid, too. He's got a great sense of humour.

His grades are off the charts. His class work is too easy for him, but he doesn't complain. He doesn't ask for more work. He keeps his head down, gets incredible grades. He's first in his class. He's first in the entire school! He should be skipping at least Third Grade but his mother won't let them skip him. She claims it would be awkward for him to be the youngest and smallest child in the class.

As I pulled away from the house, I couldn't help but feel I'd missed something.

Besides a little cigarette ash on the carpet, the house seemed clean enough. No red flags there. The furniture is old and worn, and the coffee table has cigarette burns. I could tell someone had smoked marijuana inside recently, but there were no signs of any being around where Stephen could get to it.

I had smelled cleaning product and bleach, so the house was recently cleaned. Stephen and his mom were in clean, nice looking clothes, even if Stephen's looked a little big on him. But he's a small boy. Small for his age.

I didn't like the circles under his eyes, but Cassidy had said he'd been sick recently, and that could explain it.

It bothered me. There was just something there that I couldn't put my finger on. I decided I'd check in with the school on Monday and make sure Stephen attended. I'd ask them how he seemed. His teacher was a gem. She really cared for her students and Stephen in particular. She knew his mom had a string of boyfriends that came and went throughout Stephen's life. Some better than others. The most recent one, none of the school staff had met, though he had dropped Stephen at school a couple of times. He always drove off before any of the staff could introduce themselves.

I spent the weekend trying to put the visit out of my mind. My boyfriend, Chris, tried to distract me. I just couldn't get Stephen and his mom out of my mind.

"If you think there's something there, then address it," Chris said to me as we were eating in our favourite Italian restaurant.

"That's the thing," I said. "I can't actually prove anything. It's not uncommon for an active eight year old to bang himself up. Or for him to be a picky eater. The house is always pretty clean when I visit. Nothing concerning, anyway. I mean, there was some cigarette ash on the carpet and it smelled like someone was smoking weed at some point, but I didn't see anything alarming. His clothes were clean, if a bit big on him and he was just so, polite."

"A polite eight year old?" Chris smiled at me. "Now that's cause for concern."

"Shut up," I smiled back at him. "He's a really sweet kid. I just wish I could put my finger on what is happening there."

"Babe, I know you. Either you'll figure it out and get them help, or you'll figure out that your SpideySense is a little off and everything is fine. It's the weekend. You're not on call. Let's just enjoy the time off."

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "I shouldn't be bringing work home with me. Or on a date."

"A date? Is that what this is?" Chris smiled.

"What did you think it was?" I shot back.

"Dinner. I thought the date part was later," he grinned. I rolled my eyes at him.

"If you're lucky, after the movie," I said.

"Drat! Foiled again!" He said in his 'evil nemesis' voice. He wasn't very good at it, but it always made me laugh.

We finished our dinner and walked over to the movie theatre. ET was playing and I was looking forward to seeing it. I love Stephen Spielberg movies. And this was supposed to be a heartwarming movie about a boy and an alien. How could it not be good?

Chris and I laughed through the antics of Elliot being controlled by ET and freeing the frogs in his biology class. We cried (well, I did) when we thought ET was going to die and then again, but happy tears, when ETs family came back to Earth to pick him up. And the effects were phenomenal!

We walked along the street heading back towards our apartment. Chris thought an ice cream would be nice to end the evening on, so we got ice cream cones from the ice cream shop next to the theatre and walked home enjoying our treats.

Once we got home, Chris ensured any concern I had about young Stephen were pushed out of my mind.