Page 1 of Uproot

Prologue

Selah

Upwood

Ilook up from my desk again, watching my student as he continues drawing on the white construction paper I gave him.

He's so engrossed in what he's doing, he doesn't notice my eyes on him as I sadly look over his rumpled shirt that is a size too small for him, his baggy shorts, and dirty sneakers.

I look down at my watch and see that it's now 4pm. School has been out for almost an hour and a half now, and Edison and I are the only ones still in my classroom.

Today was our final parent teacher conference day before the end of the school year, and Edison told me that his dad was coming for his 3pm appointment, and had instructed him to wait here for him.

I've called his father several times now, but I haven't received anything but the automated sound of his voicemail each time I've tried to reach him.

I wish I could say that this is out of character, but I've had nothing but issues with his father since I started teaching here at Upwood Elementary. He has always been very hard to get in touch with, but that is the least of my issues with him.

Edison has had weeks where he only came to school a few days, or not at all. He has shown up wearing the same clothes multiple days in a row, or clothing that reeked of marijuana. I have gotten in the habit of keeping some extra clothing in his size by my desk as often as I can so he isn't embarrassed around the other kids.

There was never a day that I can remember that he came with a packed lunch, or money in hand to purchase a hot lunch. I finally filled out a form for his father to sign to get him free lunches after purchasing lunch for him for the first few weeks of school myself.

He's a bright boy, and doesn't cause any disruptions in class, but he gets distracted very easily, and is a bit behind his peers. He is usually more interested in drawing than working on math or writing.

Then there are times when he tells me that he doesn't want to go home after school, and when I ask him why, he always hesitates, then just says he doesn't like it there. I've told all of this to Principal Harold countless times, and even asked the opinion of a friend of mine who is the Sheriff of our town, but there is nothing that anyone can do.

Despite what I've seen, his dad somehow passed a visit from CPS, and is doing enough not to be considered neglectful.

Even if it is the bare minimum.

I close up my laptop and grab my purse, forcing a smile on my face as I walk over to Edison. He smiles at me, holding up his picture for me to see, "Do you like it Ms. Selah? It's you!"

I smile brightly, taking the picture from him and looking it over. It's a stick figure with a large head that has a mop of black curls on top of it. Her face is colored dark brown, and there's a huge toothy smile on it. He's even made a triangle, "dress", that is yellow just like the one I have on today.

"This is so lovely, Edi! I'm going to hang it up on our star board," I say, walking over to the large cork board on one of the walls in our classroom. I find an unused push pin and hang up his artwork there along with some of his classmates.

"Edison, let’s go down to Principal Harold's office, ok? Grab your backpack," I say, coming back over to him.

His smile fades, and he looks down at his desk, "My dad isn't coming, is he?" he mutters.

I try to keep my expression positive, even though I feel awful right now.

How many times can one person let you down?

Sadly, I know from experience that the answer is infinite.

"He's running late, so I'm going to figure out how to get you home safe, ok?" I say.

He nods, and goes over to our cubby area to grab his backpack. We walk down the empty hallway to the front office, and go past the front desk. I knock lightly on Principal Harold's door, and he answers telling us to come inside.

The principal smiles as he sees me come in, but his smile falters as he notices Edison with me. He gets up from his desk coming around to us. "What's going on, Ms. Lansing?" he asks, looking between us.

I look down at Edison, and put a hand on his shoulder, "Edi, how about you sit right here, ok. I'm going to talk to Principal Harold for a few minutes over there," I say, pointing to the main office.

Edison nods, plopping down in the seat and swinging his legs. Harold and I walk out by the empty receptionist desk, and he folds his arms over his chest, waiting for me to explain.

"His father didn't show up for our parent teacher conference. I've called him several times, but the phone just keeps going straight to voicemail, and he has no emergency contact listed. The number he updated for Edison's mother goes to a disconnected number with a New York area code."

Harold puts his hands on his hips blowing out a heavy breath. "It's just become ridiculous with his father," he responds, looking out of the large window next to us.

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