The Boy With the Crooked Smile

By Moony

It’s just past eight now, and a lullaby can be heard through the open window of number five. Do you see him? The boy in the upstairs room: The one with the flickering light bulb. His name is Johnny Williams, do you know?

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You stare slightly as Johnny Williams enters the classroom, his long sleeves remaining stubbornly down despite the heat of the afternoon. Probably to hide the bruises.

Sam and Gary had come in a few minutes prior, looking particularly smug, and Sam had been sporting a slightly reddened mark on his cheek. Immediately he smirked at you, and then began bragging about how he’d got one over on “that pervert Williams”. Somehow you know that, despite this, Johnny’s the one who’ll end up in detention.

When it comes to Johnny, all you can remember of his interaction with his peers is a hundred times you’ve screamed at him, “Stop stalking me, creep!” and variations of the same thing. That, and the picture of the skinny little boy who used to follow you around in year five, until his eyes turned cold and the only looks he ever gave you were contemptuous.

But it all merges together and ends up as a squelchy feeling in your gut, because he’s smiling that crooked smile of his again, and there’s a nasty glint in his eyes that tells you that his smiles aren’t for you any more. And in the end, it doesn’t matter, because no one else even looks at him except to jeer, and now it’s only you and him in this strange, misty world: You and him, and the knowledge that this is all because of you.

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It’s just past eight now, and a lullaby’s ending can be heard through the open window of number five as little Joy Carlson is put to bed. Do you see him? Do you see that boy in the upstairs room: The one with the dying light bulb? Do you see the glow in his sweet, crooked smile?