Kindergarten of Death

My heart sank.

I definitely remembered Lilian—Carl Marks' mother—reminding the class teacher that Carl was allergic to shrimp.

She had been dead serious, even writing it down in case it slipped everyone's mind.

But now, a mother who was so cautious about her son's allergy would happily say that her son's allergy was cured?

Taking my daughter to a corner, I dropped to a crouch and kept my voice even as I asked, "Think again, girl. Are you sure about what you saw? Where?"

Wendy Johnson pursed her little lips, her brow creasing with a look of utter seriousness.

"Yesterday afternoon, during gym class. After Mr. King let us off, a teacher took Carl behind the storeroom. I sneaked there, waiting for him when I saw the teacher bring a black stick.

"She poked Carl on the arm, and he fell. His hands were trembling and his face was pale. Later, he was crying and said he won't be picky with his food anymore."

Wendy's little hands were animated as she told her tale, and there was clear trauma in her eyes.

I could feel my blood going cold.

Wendy had been honest even as a toddler and would confess if she broke a cup—she would never fabricate a lie as ridiculous as this one.

And yet, Carl looked perfectly normal.

So what was going on?

Did Wendy make a mistake? Or…

Before I could think further, Lilian held Carl's hand as they approached the new teacher, Quinn Ackles.

There was no hiding Lilian's smile as she exclaimed gratefully, "Oh, thank you so much, Ms. Ackles! Just look at Carl—he's such a good boy now. He was always such a fussy eater and would never touch shrimp.

"But now, he eats everything on his plate! It's all thanks to your special allergy therapy. It doesn't just treat the symptoms but also the cause. I'm really grateful."

I watched as she talked so animatedly, my suspicions growing.

Turning towards Carl, I asked cautiously, "How was your day, Carl? Did you enjoy gym class yesterday?"

Carl kept her head lowered, his fingers tugging on the hem of his own shirt, his long lashes hiding the look in his eyes.

After seconds of silence, he nodded, but suddenly shook his head.

He was also stiff, unlike the energetic boy I remembered.

"Oh, Carl…"

Lilian quickly chimed in, patting Carl's head with an edge in her tone, "He didn't like this jacket, so I scolded him a little this morning. Guess he's still upset."

Carl's lips parted, but he didn't speak.

That was when he looked up at me, and it was a blank look that left my heart skipping a beat.

After the autumn camp, Wendy dozed off on the safety seat, her breathing rhythmic.

Gently putting her on her bed and tucking her in after I got home, I stared at her dainty face as she slept, my suspicions during the day surfacing again.

Wendy never lied, and while Carl was alive and well, the many oddities stayed stuck in my mind.

My wife Sue Willow only returned at 11 pm, and I poured her a drink. "There's something I need to tell you…"

After I told her everything at autumn camp, I asked, "Don't you think it's suspicious? Carl really didn't look like he was pouting to me."