2023 Fiction Runner-Up: "Drop-Off Lane" by Nichole Maryse
Photo Credit: Joshua Sortino, obtained and licensed through Unsplash.
Drop-off lane
Noah ‘Scooter’ Roberts went missing in the early hours of Spencer Park’s 13th birthday, vanishing from the backyard, and leaving nothing but a dew-damp sleeping bag and his horn-rimmed glasses behind.
Spencer was the first person to realize he was gone.
“I went inside to use the bathroom, and when I came out he was gone,” Spencer said. He was panicking: his face was flushed, his voice was shaking, and he was glaring at everyone like he was ready to punch the first person who didn’t take him seriously. “I don’t– He might have been gone already when I woke up. I thought I saw him, but I don’t know.”
“Spencer, breathe,” Robin said. “He’s probably fine, don’t panic.”
“Don’t panic? Scooter could be dead right now and you’re telling me not to panic?”
There were six boys camping out in Spencer’s backyard: Scooter, who was Spencer’s best friend and who was currently missing; Spencer, who looked like he might start crying; Dylan Myers; Teddy Comer; Robin Sullivan; and Wyatt Knox, who had been the last to wake up.
“Okay, Jesus. He’s not dead,” Dylan said. “It’s Scooter. He’s just sleepwalking, dude.”
“Yeah, he’s around here somewhere,” Robin said, grabbing Spencer by the shoulders. “Calm down. He’s probably just inside in your room or something.”
“In my room?” Spencer was blushing. Wyatt pretended not to notice. “Why would Scooter be in my room?”
“He sleeps over a lot,” Robin shrugged. “That’s what usually happens when he sleepwalks, isn’t it? He just follows routines?”
“Oh, yeah,” Spencer cleared his throat. “He says he usually gets ready for school.”
“That checks out,” Teddy said around a yawn. “Scooter’s a nerd even in his sleep.”
“So, we just have to find him then, yeah?” Robin said. “Wyatt and I will help you look inside. Dylan and Teddy, you guys check the yard.”
They picked up their flashlights and split off. As they slipped inside the house through the kitchen door, Wyatt glanced at the time on the stove: It was just past four in the morning.
“Happy birthday, Spencer,” Wyatt whispered into the dark. Spencer just looked at him.
They searched the house quickly and quietly. Wyatt tip-toed his way through the kitchen, dining room, and living room while Robin peeked in both bathrooms and the laundry room. Spencer checked his bedroom and– God forbid– his parents’ bedroom. They looked in every closet, underneath every bed, and in every nook and cranny the boy could possibly fit in, but no one found any trace of Scooter. The three of them had just reconvened downstairs to say as much, Spencer looking ready to throw up, when a flashlight shining through the kitchen window drew them back into the yard.
“Did you find him?” Spencer asked, out of breath. Teddy flicked off the flashlight.
“We didn’t,” Dylan sighed. “We’ve got a bigger issue.”
The gate being open changed everything.
They all gathered by the fence, barefoot in the grass, listening to the rusted hinges as the wooden gate breathed in and out with the summer breeze.
“Okay, well,” Robin started. “That’s definitely worse.”
Wyatt could see the tension wind itself impossibly tight in Spencer, the way the moonlight reflected off the pale skin of his fists curled at his sides. He drew in a shaky breath.
“I’m going to go wake up my mom.”
They all gathered by the fence, barefoot in the grass, listening to the rusted hinges as the wooden gate breathed in and out with the summer breeze.
“No, don’t just yet,” Robin said. He looked calm, but Wyatt could recognize his tells a mile away: The pitch in his voice, how quickly he was talking, the way he was absentmindedly tapping his finger against the seam in his pant leg. “Don’t wake your mom up. We can handle this.”
Spencer huffed out an irritated breath and turned to march into the house when Robin stepped in front of him. Spencer shoved him, and even though Robin stumbled backward in the grass he didn’t budge. Dylan grabbed Spencer firmly by the elbow, and Teddy tensed up, ready to jump in wherever he was needed. They’d all grown up together and were used to Spencer’s temper, more than capable of handling him when it flared. Wyatt took a step back– he’d only ever watched all their fights from the wings.
“Spencer, do not wake your mom,” Robin said. “We don’t need to freak her out yet.”
“But–”
“If you wake your mom up, she’ll wake your dad up, and then she’ll call Scooter’s mom, and then they’ll start looking for Scooter. We don’t have time for that. He hasn’t been gone for very long, he can’t have gone that far.”
“I don’t know how long he’s been gone.” Spencer blinked rapidly. “I– I don’t know if I saw him when I woke up, I only–”
“I’m trusting that you did,” Dylan said. He squeezed his arm. “It hasn’t been very long.”
“He– He’s not even wearing any shoes. He left his glasses.”
“To be fair, he’s asleep,” Teddy said. “Don’t really need glasses if your eyes are closed.”
“We’ll go find him, alright?” Dylan said, pointedly ignoring Teddy. “We’ll find him.”
For a moment, no one moved. Spencer closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, and after a few tense seconds, he opened them and nodded stiffly.
Dylan patted him on the shoulder. “What’s the plan, Robin?”
Robin nodded. “Alright. This just leads to an alley, so there’s really only two ways he could’ve gone. Dylan and Teddy, you guys go left and down to Carrie just to be safe. Spencer, Wyatt and I will go right towards Finch. Teddy, you have a watch, don’t you?”
“Yessir.” Teddy raised his hand in salute. Wyatt reached up and pulled it down silently.
“Perfect– It’s a quarter past four right now. Meet back here at a quarter ‘til, preferably with Scooter. Everyone got it?”
Everyone took a minute to lace up their sneakers and slip on their jackets over their pajamas, and then Spencer latched the gate behind them, and they split off down the alley, Teddy and Dylan going one way and Spencer, Robin, and Wyatt the other. Spencer led them– he walked a few feet ahead of Robin and Wyatt, shining his flashlight behind every trash can and in every corner as they traipsed down the lane, gravel crunching beneath their feet.
“Do you remember Boy Scout Camp a couple of years ago?” Robin said softly, nudging Wyatt with his shoulder as they walked. Sometime since school had gotten out for the summer, he’d gained an extra inch of height on Wyatt and he had to lean down slightly to speak in his ear. “When we couldn’t find Scooter then? And he ended up being underneath the bunk bed?”
“He’d pulled his suitcase in behind him so we couldn’t see him at all,” Wyatt grinned. “How’d we even find him that time? I can’t remember.”
“I think Dylan heard him snoring.” Robin shook his head. “That was a fun night.”
No one said anything else for a while. The alley ended and they turned onto the sidewalk, passing underneath streetlights before delving back into darkness like ships at sea routinely illuminated by the glow from a lighthouse. In the light, Wyatt could plainly see the dark circles under Spencer’s eyes and the bitten-red skin of his lips. He was carrying Scooter’s shoes by the laces, letting them dangle at his side. He had his glasses perched on top of his head, and in the lenses, Wyatt could see the moon reflected in them, bright and full.
The alley ended and they turned onto the sidewalk, passing underneath streetlights before delving back into darkness like ships at sea routinely illuminated by the glow from a lighthouse.
Wyatt had never been particularly afraid of the dark but seeing the neighborhood in the middle of the night blanketed him in an eerie feeling he couldn’t quite shake. He was used to the noise– The steady thrum of cars on the road with their radios blaring, the incoherent drone of soap operas and the evening news drifting out of open living room windows, the jarring buzz of lawn mowers and leaf blowers beyond picket fences. He was used to the sound of the static, the background noise that he could always rely on to drown out the things he didn’t want to hear, something to remind him that he was only a mumble in a room full of conversation. In the stillness of the street, there was only a lone cricket in the distance, the slight rustle of grass in the breeze, the soft beat of their sneakers against the concrete. Robin was walking close to him, and Wyatt didn’t want to think about what it would mean if Robin could hear how quickly his heart was beating every time their shoulders brushed. It was the kind of stillness where Wyatt knew that, if he spoke, he would be heard, and he didn’t think that should scare him like it did.
The backs of Robin’s knuckles brushed against his own. Wyatt drew his hand back like he’d been burned. He blushed, hoping Robin couldn’t tell in the dark.
“What’s on your mind?” Robin asked softly.
Wyatt shrugged and looked away. “Nothing important.”
He looked away, busying himself with studying the grain of the concrete and the weeds growing through the cracks. He didn’t even realize Spencer had stopped walking until he ran directly into his back. Robin placed a steadying hand on his shoulder as Wyatt righted himself.
Spencer was glaring at the green Finch Road sign hanging above their heads.
“Are you fucking happy Robin?” Spencer asked without looking back. “We didn’t find him. He’s been gone almost an hour and we didn’t find him. Can I panic yet?”
“Teddy and Dylan might’ve already–”
“And if they didn't then that's more time that we wasted because you said it was fine.”
“Spencer–”
“Stop talking.” He turned around quickly, moving towards Robin until they were nose to nose. Robin was taller but that didn’t stop Spencer from staring him down. “Can you just stop?”
Spencer shoved Robin hard. Robin took a half-step backwards then held his ground.
“Spencer, we’ll figure it out, just–”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” Spencer pushed him again. This time Robin pushed back.
Wyatt watched from the sidelines as they scuffled. It could have been worse– he’d seen his older brother throw a punch and break someone’s nose before. Robin and Spencer just kept shoving each other, grabbing each other by the arm or collar of their shirt and then pushing harder. They were only children playing at fighting, following all the same rules the big kids did: No scratching, no biting, no hair pulling.
Wyatt didn’t know what to do. He was completely alone. There were no adults, no parents around to pull them off each other. They were two blocks from the school but there were no teachers that he could run to for help. All he could do was watch as Spencer threw the first punch of the night, sluggish and inexperienced and–
They were two blocks from the school.
Wyatt turned and squinted farther down the road. He could nearly make out the silhouette of the flagpole standing in the schoolyard.
He looked away, busying himself with studying the grain of the concrete and the weeds growing through the cracks.
“Hey, you guys?” He turned back around. Robin had Spencer in a headlock. Wyatt sighed and raised his voice to a yell. “Guys!”
They both stilled just as Robin pulled Spencer’s arm behind his back, the pair of them breathing heavily as they looked up at Wyatt.
“You said Scooter usually gets ready for school when he sleepwalks, right?”
Spencer slowly nodded.
Wyatt shrugged. “Then let’s go to the school.”
There was one beat, two, where no one moved, and then Robin released his grip on Spencer. It took half a second for him to start sprinting down the block, the slap of his shoes against concrete suddenly the loudest sound on the quiet street.
Robin laughed breathlessly, grinning under the glow of the streetlight, before taking Wyatt by the hand and pulling him along as they took off running after Spencer.
They found Scooter sitting on the curb in the parent drop-off lane. His bare feet were stretched out on the black-top in front of him, and he was leaning back on his elbows, gazing up at the stars with a strange expression on his face. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. Robin and Wyatt skidded to a stop a few feet away while Spencer immediately sat down next to him.
“Hey, buddy,” Spencer said, his voice the softest it had been all night. He gingerly pulled the glasses from his head, situated them on Scooter’s face, and pushed them up the bridge of his nose. “You forgot your glasses.”
“I forgot my backpack, too,” Scooter mumbled, his words slurred together. “I’m going to fail this math test, dude.”
“Oh, shit,” Robin said quietly. “He’s still asleep.”
Spencer glanced back at them while Scooter continued to ramble about his math test, and only then did Wyatt realize he was still holding onto Robin’s hand. He let go quickly, stretching his arms out behind him and trying to look nonchalant, but Spencer was looking at him with an unreadable expression. After a moment, he turned his attention back to Scooter.
“Come on, Scooter,” Spencer said, carefully sliding his shoes onto his feet and then double knotting the laces. He took both of his hands in his and pulled him slowly to his feet. Scooter was mostly limp, allowing Spencer to move him around like a rag doll. “We can study for that test at my house, yeah?”
It took twice as long for them to lead Scooter back to Spencer’s yard as it did to walk to the school. Spencer walked backwards, guiding Scooter slowly and talking to him quietly the entire way while Wyatt and Robin followed closely behind. Whenever Scooter veered off course or stopped walking, they’d gently coax him forward until he was following Spencer’s lead, his steps shaky and unbalanced like he was learning to walk for the first time.
They never even considered waking him up– most of the time it just upset him, and there was an unspoken agreement that a sleepwalking Scooter was better than a sobbing Scooter. There was something endearing about him in this state, almost drunken as he tripped over his feet and giggled to himself. They listened to him mumble nonsensically about the dreams he was currently lost in, grinning sleepily at Spencer the entire time. Every now and then, his glasses would slip precariously down the bridge of his nose, and Spencer would let go of his hand for only a moment so he could fix them for him.
A block from his house, Spencer looked up at Robin.
I’m sorry, he mouthed, his eyes wide and red-rimmed.
Robin laughed breathlessly, grinning under the glow of the streetlight, before taking Wyatt by the hand and pulling him along as they took off running after Spencer.
Robin rolled his eyes and flipped him off, grinning, and Wyatt knew that that was all that needed to be said.
“Oh, thank fuck,” Dylan called, as they slowly maneuvered towards the gate. They were both leaning over the fence from inside the yard, and as they saw them approaching, they scrambled to open the gate and help guide a delirious Scooter inside. “Teddy was about to try and wake up your mom.”
“Teddy, you’re not allowed anywhere near my parents’ bedroom. Never do that.”
“What the hell?” Teddy looked genuinely offended. “Why not? Your mom loves me.”
Scooter nearly face planted as they led him through the gate, slipping on the grass as he muttered something about Teddy’s mother under his breath. Spencer caught him under the arms, and Scooter gave up entirely, his head lolling forward onto Spencer’s shoulder and his legs going completely limp. He began to snore loudly in Spencer’s ear.
“At least he waited until you got back to the house,” Dylan said. “A true gentleman.”
They laid him down gently on his sleeping bag, zipping it to his chin while Spencer carefully untied his shoes and pulled his skewed glasses from his face. They circled around his sleeping form like newborn parents around a bassinet, the moment almost tender until Teddy kicked him unprompted. Scooter slept through it.
“I’m going back to bed,” Teddy yawned. “That was bullshit.”
They all slid back into their sleeping bags, Spencer looking more awake than he had been all night. Wyatt laid down on his back, hands under his head, and stared at the stars. He’d nearly drifted off to sleep when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“That was really smart,” Robin said quietly into his ear. “Looking at the school? I never would have thought about that.”
They grinned at each other; Wyatt’s face half pressed into the fabric of his pillow. Robin looked like he had more to say but he fell asleep before he could say it, leaning half onto Wyatt’s sleeping bag. Wyatt watched him until he began to drool and then he turned his head towards the horizon, watching the first bright sliver of morning rise over the neighborhood.
***
Spencer’s mom surprised them with chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast the next morning, loaded with whipped cream, sprinkles, and strawberries on the side. They stuck a lit candle in Spencer’s, and after a muffled version of ‘happy birthday’ filled with voice-cracks and groans, he blew out the flame with a yawn before laying his head down on the kitchen table.
Dylan was slumped so far down in his seat Wyatt could only see him from the shoulders up. Teddy didn’t even try– he hadn’t said a word to anyone all morning and simply went back to sleep at the table, his head resting on his arms as he snored softly.
Wyatt had his elbows on the table and his head propped up in his hands, his eyes so heavy it almost hurt to keep them open. Next to him, Robin was trying his best to be polite and sit up straight, but every few seconds, he tipped over precariously, leaning into Wyatt’s side. His eyes would flutter shut for a few moments before he jerked back awake, his face red as he smiled at Wyatt and softly muttered an apology. Wyatt didn’t mind at all.
“I don’t know why you guys are so tired,” Scooter said, shoveling pancakes into his mouth. Behind his smudged glasses, his eyes were bright. “I slept great.”
Spencer pushed him off his chair.
Nichole Maryse is 22 years old, five feet tall, a cat person, a Taylor Swift fan, and a writer, among other things.