Who knew something you care for so much could be so easily be taken away from you? Every parent fears for their kids’ safety, but at least they would know how to deal with it. I, on the other hand, was far too young to handle something like this. The neighborhood I lived in at the time was very sociable and friendly (in fact I’m still very good friends with a lot of them to this day). I grew up with them and they seem more like family than friends.
     

Directly across the street from my house, was William and his parents; Shell and Michelle (I know, I know, fitting names for a couple). William and his father, Shell, have the same last name, whereas Michelle had a different one. They never bothered getting married, but they loved each other just as much. Next door to them was Nicole and Raymond, we called him Ray. They had three kids; Kay’shaun (KK), Da’shaun (Men Men), and Geremie. To an outsider, the nickname ‘Men Men’ definitely sounds strange, but we grew up saying it, so to us it was perfectly normal. There were quite a few other friends in the neighborhood, but they’re irrelevant to this story.
     

Geremie was the youngest, being three grades below me. William was two grades in front of me, Da’shaun was one grade in front of William, and Kay’shaun was two grades in front of her brother, making her the oldest. So to put it in perspective; when I was in fifth grade, Geremie was in second, William was in seventh, Da’shaun was in eighth, and Kay’shaun was in tenth. I use these numbers because that’s when this even took place; fifth grade in late 2011.
     

We had all gone to the same elementary school, just at different times of course. We went to the same elementary school. We all walked to school and back because of how close it was. All you had to do to get to the school was walk down our street, make a right through the next set of houses, then turn left and there you are. It usually took about 4 or 5 minutes to walk to the school. There was a time when Da’shaun, William, and I would all walk to school together, but that was in first and second grade. But then it was just William and I the next year when Da’shaun graduated to Middle School, and that next year William had moved on, too. I was about to start fourth grade and I would have been walking to and from school alone had it not been for Geremie. That year he started first grade.
     

The year after that, when I was in fifth and he was in second, he was happy, successful, had lots of friends, was semi-popular, and was on the football team (he was good at it, too). One day at the end of the day, the bell had just rung, jumpstarting the whole school, and I made my way towards Geremie’s second grade classroom like I always did. We found each other and we quickly exited the school’s oversized metal gated. After a bit of walking, Geremie had gotten a little bit ahead of me to talk to what I presumed to be his friend. I could still see him through the crowd of kids in between us, and he and his friend started walking to the edge of the sidewalk almost on the street. This was normal; most kids walked in groups so big they spilled into the street. But then I realized they were going to a white car sitting idle on the side of the road. And I, behind the crowd, watched him climb into this car. The crowd was thick as I tried to push my way past them all, feeling their eyes burn into the back of my head as I tried to do so. “What are you doing?!” I managed to get out, not quite up to the car, but close enough.
     

“They’re gonna take me home!” He shouted. And that was it; the door slammed shut, and the car raced off. I watched it turn the corner that would eventually take you to our neighborhood. I ran to the same corner just in time to see it go down the following curve (of which you had to take, there was no other possible route). This street was a bit lengthier, so it took more time than I desired to run down to that corner. But when I did, there was no sign of Geremie or the people he was with. So I did the first sensible thing anyone would do in my situation; went to his house. I knocked on the door, breathing heavily, and after a minute or two, Kay’shaun, Geremie’s sister, answered. From the look on her face, I assume she figured out that I was distraught.
     

“Is Geremie here?” I asked, dreadfully.
     

“I thought he was with you?” She replied. That’s when I mentally lost it, but I still had a tiny shred of hope… William’s house. Of course she wanted an explanation, and I feel bad because thinking about it now, there’s no way I sufficiently told her what happened. Maybe I got out two confusing sentences vaguely explaining what I knew before I said I was going next door to ask Michelle. When I knocked on her door, she answered and I asked the same thing I asked Kay’shaun.
     

“Is Geremie here?” I asked again, only with less anticipation.
     

“No.” She simply responded. My face must have gone white or something, because she then said, “Whoa, are you okay? What happened?” I was crying now, as I told her something similar to what I told Kay’shaun. I imagine my explanation to Michelle was clearer than my other one, because I had nowhere to rush; there was no other houses in the neighborhood that Geremie would go to. As I was talking to Michelle, Kay’shaun had gone to get Nicole, her mother, and roughly tell her what happened. I don’t remember ever talking to Nicole, but I know she got the story and started anxiously calling everyone she knew, asking if they knew where her little boy was. I don’t think anyone called the police, though.
     

After talking with Michelle, I forlornly walked home and told my parents the story. They sped across the street to see if they could help in some way, leaving me in the house alone with my thoughts. Saying I cried would be an understatement. I thought-no, I knew it was my fault. I remember thinking ‘he’s gone forever.’ I remember thinking ‘I’m never gonna see him again.’ I remember thinking of all the possible things they could be doing to him. I remember thinking ‘I could of saved him. I could have been a better guardian and kept him by my side. I could have told him not to trust anyone. I could have done something.’ Then I started thinking about everything that was going to happen now because of me. How all of his friends would miss him and know it was my fault. How his family would hate and never talk to me again. How no one would forgive me (not that I deserved it). I remember thinking about how I would see ‘Missing Person’s’ posters with his face on it on my way to school in the morning. And I kept thinking. I honestly don’t remember what happened after that. I just remember pacing back and forth a 3 feet area, sobbing and thinking. And then I remember nothing, but maybe that’s a good thing…
     

I do know that several hours later, Geremie was brought back home (though I don’t know how). He was at a friends’ house but no one knew of this friend or his parents, but Geremie was okay.
     

I’m sorry if you were expecting a different ending. I’m sorry if you wanted a much more horrifying outcome. I’m sorry if you wanted something else to happen. But this experience has made me much more cautious. Geremie got a nice long lecture on we always need to know where he’s going and who he’s going with. The rest of us learned a little something, too; we were lucky. We are so astonishingly lucky that nothing happened to him. For every one kid that gets off lucky like we did, hundreds of thousands of other kids aren’t as such. Everyone involved in this situation got a pretty clear lesson, and I hope you do, too. Stay safe.