"We are here interviewing Chester Millner," the reporter, Tom Ronden, turns from the camera and adjusts himself in his chair to talk to Chester. "So, Chester, you were kidnapped, and have been missing since, twenty-four years ago. Am I right?"
"Yeah," Chester leans back in his chair.
"May I ask you a few questions about your experience?"
"Sure. Whatever," he yawns as he speaks.
"Okay, so, what exactly happened on the day of your kidnapping?"
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It was the beginning of my ninth grade year.
"Chester Millner," Mr. Barnabees, the middle-aged teacher standing in the front of the classroom, said aloud as he looked up from his classroom role sheet.
"Here!" a long-legged boy, with dark brown hair hanging in front of his eyes, shouted at the sound of his name.
Chester sat hunched over his desk whispering to the few other kids sitting around him. The sun was gleaming in green eyes making them shimmer. He was well-liked- you could say popular- but he wasn't a jerk. He didn't have an enemy in the world.
People liked me. I wasn't the most popular guy ever, but I was liked.
As Mr. Barnabees continued down the role, Chester happened to glance out the window. Before he turned back to the brunette girl talking beside him, he noticed a boy, with shaggy, obviously not brushed, golden red hair running on the street. He was wearing some baggy cargo shorts, a t-shirt, and no shoes. It was strange because you never saw someone walking bare foot on the street. The sun always shone straight down on the town, so the sidewalk was so hot, it could melt a hole in your foot.
I felt as though I was Roy from the book, Hoot. I saw some strange kid my age running on the street without shoes.
He was staring out the window. Taylor, the blond guy sitting in front of him, was looking at Chester. Taylor was three fourths Cherokee Indian. He had high cheek bones and very dark features to his profile. His blond hair and dark features were an odd combination, and no one really resembled him, but he was proud of being different.
"Chester? Chester, dude, are you okay?" Taylor asked as he waved his hand in front of Chester's face.
Chester snapped out of it and replied blankly, "Yeah. I thought I saw something, but it was probably just a figment of my imagination."
"Yeah." Taylor turned back around when the teacher walked near them.
The dismissal bell began to chime through the halls of the school.
"Wait! Class, don't forget that your Civil War projects are due tomorrow," Mr. Barnabees raised his voice before letting the eager class jump up from their seats to leave.
Chester grabbed his back pack and ran out the door with Taylor. "Dude, have you finished your project yet?" Taylor asked as they stopped at the locker they shared.
"Nah! You know I haven't even started on that stupid project. I'm just goin' to throw some crap together and call it a C."
"Nice," Taylor said enthusiastically as he shoved his history book into the crammed locker. "I'm about half done with mine. I think it's worth a B."
"Cool."
Taylor grabbed his bag and started off towards the bus ramp to go home. Chester walked home since he only lived down the block from the school. His parents disapproved of him walking on the street and wanted to send the chauffeur to pick him up, but he didn't want people to look at him weird, so he chose to walk.
He picked up his bag after shutting the locker and walked out onto the sidewalk. He looked to see if anyone else was walking home too, but strangely, no one was. It was only him.
I had a gut feeling that something wasn't right. Usually at least ten people would walk home, but that day, I was the only one.
Chester started walking with the same shuffle in his feet his father had had. His father had been paralyzed from the waist down in a car accident years ago.
He reached a crosswalk. There were no cars anywhere on the street. He stopped for a moment to look around to see if he could see anyone.
I wasn't concerned for my safety until I noticed that there were no people nor cars anywhere on the street. Then I began to worry.
"Where is everyone?" he said under his breath to himself. As he said that and looked around, he saw that red-headed boy sitting on the roof of the bakery down the street to his right.
After considering walking over to talk to him, Chester decided not to talk to the strange kid. Instead, he crossed the street.
"I'll just get home, where it makes sense, and sort everything out there after I throw my project together," he said aloud to himself.
No one was around to hear me talk to myself, so I figured it was alright.
The sun was beating down on him causing sweat droplets to build up around the edge of his forehead. He wiped his arm across his forehead as he strode down the street. Not a cloud was in the sky to provide any shade.
I heard footsteps behind me.
The red-headed boy grabbed Chester's shoulder making him stop his pace.
"What do you want?" Chester asked with a hint of irritation in his voice as he turned around and pushed the red-headed boy's hand from his shoulder. He tried to look irritated and tough even though, on the inside, he was scared out of his wits.
His hand was ice cold. I could feel it through my shirt when he grabbed my shoulder. It sent a shiver down my spine.
"I saw you walking alone. Being alone isn't safe," he replied seriously with a slight smile across his face.
"But you're alone," Chester pointed out matter-of-factly.
"Well," he paused, "I guess I am." He stuck out his hand. "My name's Iggy. You?"
Chester took it, and they shook hands. "I'm Chester. Nice to meet you, uh, Iggy." He paused, but the silence was immediately broken again. "How old are you?"
"Fifteen tomorrow. You?"
"Fourteen. What grade are you in?"
"I think I would be in ninth about this time," Iggy replied after taking a moment to think.
"I'm in ninth grade. What school do you go to? I haven't seen you around."
"Oh, I don't go to school. I find it pointless and stupid. I dropped out years ago, and I'm never going back." A slight, unrecognizable, accent was audible when Iggy said that.
"What do you mean you dropped out? You can't drop out in middle school, can you?"
It baffled me to hear someone talk about dropping out of school before high school.
"I mean just what I said. It's stupid, and I'm never going back."
"Well, what do your parents think?"
"They don't know."
"How don't they know?"
"They just don't!"
"Wait. Where do you live? I mean, I've lived here my whole life, and I know everyone in town. I haven't seen you before today."
"I live wherever. It don't matter to me."
When he said that, I felt really bad for him. He was homeless, and I was on my way to the gated community where I lived in luxury.
"Chester, you wanna see a magic trick?" Iggy's facial expression and tone changed.
"Uh, sure," he replied nervously.
"Give me your hand." Iggy took Chester's hand.
Iggy held his hand tightly. Suddenly, he pushed Chester to the ground holding his hand behind his back as if he was arresting him. Chester's face scraped across the scorching concrete. He yelped in pain as open newly-open scrapes touched the hot road. Iggy pinched a spot on Chester's shoulder, and he fell unconscious.
The last thing I remember of that moment is hearing Iggy's voice saying, "Sorry." Then, everything went black.
