Page 32 of Ice Darling
As gently as I can, I steer the children out of the way. Once I get to the knob, I yank the door open and burst inside.
Miss Potts, Gordie’s homeroom teacher, is stooping on the ground. Her neck twists to look at me, and relief pours through her expression.
“Viking,” she says softly. Just beyond Miss Potts’s shoulder, I see a flash of pink. It’s the same shade as Gordie’s Space Rocks shirt that she chose from her closet this morning.
Stomping forward, I kneel beside the teacher and look carefully under the desk.
What I see makes my heart shrivel up inside. My daughter is lying sideways on the ground, her eyes shut as she curls into a fetal position.
“Gordie?” I croak out.
She keeps her eyes closed, but I notice her fingers relaxing a bit.
“She’s been under there for an hour,” Miss Potts explains in a low voice. “Every time we try to touch her or get her out, she trembles and gets more flustered. We didn’t know what to do.”
Her words are English, but they make no sense to me. What does she mean Gordie randomly hid under her desk?
As if to prove her point, Miss Potts inches under the desk and touches Gordie’s arm. “Gordie, you need to?—”
My daughter trembles and inches away. Her mouth is tightly shut, but the deep, pained frown on her face is enough to break my heart in two.
I can hardly believe my eyes.
Miss Potts backs away, straightens her shoulders, and gives me a “you see” look.
I swallow hard. “Gordie, you need to come out from there.”
My daughter doesn’t respond to me.
“Gordie, come on. Daddy’s here. Come out, and I’ll take you home.”
She remains quiet.
It sends me into a deeper mode of panic. I reach for her.
Gordie squirms away from me too, trembling and tucking her chin close to her chest.
My heart shatters, and my throat bobs in disbelief.
Her silence is louder than the bells ringing in my ears.
Withdrawing from the desk, I stand and turn to the large windows looking out over the school yard. I take a moment to wipe the tear at the corner of my eye and then whirl around.
Miss Potts is behind me, wringing her hands in front of her skirt.
“What happened?” I bark at her.
She flinches, and I feel a twinge of remorse for lashing out when it’s not her fault at all.
“I don’t know. We came back from lunch and started reading time as usual. A bit later, I noticed that Gordie wasn’t at her desk, and I saw her like this.”
A pain so deep consumes me that I can’t talk for a moment.
Wrestling my emotions away, I approach the desk again and croak out, “Pumpkin?”
Gordie keeps her eyes closed and doesn’t respond to me.
My brain is firing on all cylinders. A million thoughts rattle around in my skull.
