originally published in Issue 2 of The Banshee in 2022
Robert Weser was my last student. After what happened in the woods I never taught again. He came into my life like a ghost out of a fog from the woods one morning, alone. He disappeared through those same woods taking everything with him, never to be seen again.
The first time I saw Robert was a cool October morning before school. I had just pulled into the parking lot of Saxon High School. He just appeared. Walking out from beyond the school grounds in the undeveloped woods behind it. He looked tiny as he passed several bulldozers parked in front of a sign that read “Coming soon! Luxury Condominiums. Buy now! In the low 200s.”
My first-period class was quiet that morning. The students were never awake enough at that hour to cause much disruption. A knock at the door broke the haze. Vice-Principal, Mrs. Hanover stepped in. I was surprised to see the boy from the woods follow behind her.
“Ms. Ellas, we have a new student, Mr. Robert Weser.”
Robert waved sheepishly at the class. His blue eyes softened as he flashed me a shy smile. A hushed ripple of snickers spread across the room as the students looked over Robert’s out-of-date clothes. He was wearing a green hoodie, the seams on the wrists and waist frayed over a camo t-shirt and baggy pants, a chain wallet, and bleached blonde hair.
“Mr. Weser, please take a seat.” Mrs. Hanover looked at me for some direction.
“Pick any open seat you like, Robert.”
Robert chose a desk in the far left corner of the room near the window. He slumped down in his seat and looked out towards the woods.
“1998 called, it wants its clothes back.” One of the students joked. The others erupted in laughter. Robert didn’t flinch. He just stared out the window.
“All right. That’s enough. Please open your books to chapter six.” The students shuffled as they opened their textbooks. I noticed that Robert had no backpack, books, or school supplies.
“Robert. Do you need a book?”
He looked up at me. “Yes, Ms. Ellas.”
I brought him a textbook, a fresh notebook, and a pencil. He paid no attention to the lesson. Tapping the pencil on the desk, he stared out the window and into the woods until the bell rang at the end of class.
The next day was the same. Robert paid no attention in class. He stared out the window. He tapped his pencil on his desk. Unlike the day before, it was a distinct beat though not something I recognized. It made me feel uneasy. I had trouble focusing on the lesson trying to place it.
“Dude!” one of the students shouted, glaring at Robert. “Cut it out!”
Robert blushed and slouched in his seat, putting his pencil in the pocket of his hoodie.
Every day that week when Robert sat down at his desk, he fidgeted in his seat, trying, it seemed not to make noise. But before long he’d start tapping out that same beat. Every day adding a new layer. First his pencil, then his right foot, then his left, then the open palm of his left hand. It drove the other students mad. They would yell at him to stop. He always did immediately, blushing and slumping down in his seat.
The following Monday Robert was late for class. All the other students had settled into their seats and had begun working on their quizzes. He burst into the room making a lot of noise and carrying a large pink box.
“Robert, why are you late? I can’t have you disrupting the whole class.”
“Sorry, Ms. Ellas. I had to stop at the bakery. It’s my birthday today. I brought cupcakes.”
“The baby brought cupcakes for his birthday?” One of the students mocked. The rest of the class erupted in laughter.
Unfazed, Robert opened the box. “Yeah, I brought enough for everyone.”
The students stopped laughing and looked at the box, eager for a sugar fix.
“Can I pass them out, Ms. Ellas?” Robert turned to me, his cold blue eyes twinkled.
“After the quiz.”
“Awww!” The whole class groaned.
I sighed. “Alright, fine. Pass them out now and everyone can quietly enjoy their one cupcake while they take the quiz.”
I gestured for Robert to go ahead. He moved around the room, gently placing a single cupcake in front of each student. He stopped at me last and set the cupcake down on my desk, careful not to get his fingers in the swirl of bright pink frosting. It sparkled a little under the dull fluorescent lights. It looked too sweet, disgustingly sweet. I’ll throw it out after class. I thought to myself. The students devoured them, getting frosting all over their desks, hands, and faces.
Robert watched them eat with a sly smile on his face, not eating a cupcake of his own. He pulled a phone from his hoodie pocket. It was the first time I had seen him with one. After a few swipes of his screen, a techno beat blasted out of the tiny speaker. The same one Robert had been tapping out all week. He began to bang along on his desk, clapping his hands in between each pound of his fists. The other kids in the classroom joined in. A few at first, then every student. The children turned and focused on Robert intensely. Their pounding synchronizing to the song coming out of the phone. The beat dropped, and the children stopped right in time as if they had been anticipating it. A synth melody played. Robert stood up from his desk as the beat kicked back in and the students all clapped in-time as they too stood up and followed Robert out the door and into the hall.
“Hey!” I called out to them but they ignored me as if in a trance. The commotion drew other teachers out of their classrooms. “What’s going on?”
The security guards tried to stop them. But Robert and the other children just pushed right past and out the doors. They danced across the school grounds and toward the woods. To the very spot, I first saw Robert emerge from. The security guards chased after them into the woods. I followed behind. I saw the students as they went around a hill, but quickly lost sight of them as they went behind it. The music stopped as soon as they were out of sight. “What the?” “Where the hell did they go?” The guards ran around the other side of the hill. “Did you see them come past here? Where are they?”
I walked slowly around the hill but found no sign of the students. No music. No broken branches. Nothing. Back on the school grounds, it was the same. No sign of them.
The police searched for days. Days became weeks, and weeks became months. The construction of the condos was delayed but eventually went ahead as it was thought that clearing the trees might reveal some clues, but nothing was ever found. On the first anniversary, the community got together and put a memorial plaque at the far end of the schoolyard for the thirty students who walked into the woods but never walked out again.
