The Empty Desk

Kai’s desk had been empty three times in two weeks.

When he did come in, he sat at the back with his coat on and his head on his arms. He didn’t hand in homework. When Mr Bell asked him a question in history, Kai said “Dunno” without even lifting his head, and three people laughed.

“He’s just checked out,” said someone at lunch. “He doesn’t care any more.”

The Clue Club heard about it on Wednesday. Inez pinned a blank card in the middle of the corkboard, with a red string running out from it in five directions.

“One behavior,” she said. “Five places to look. Who wants to start?”

They all wanted to start. That was the problem with the Clue Club; everybody had a theory.

“It’s his body,” said Bramley at once. “Bet he isn’t sleeping.”

“It’s feelings,” said Thea. “Something’s upset him.”

“Thinking,” said Orrin. “The work’s got too hard and he’s frozen.”

Pella folded her arms. “It’s friends. It’s always friends.”

Ashby, who was quieter than the others, said, “What if it’s something he feels bad about?”

Inez held up her hand. “Stop. Listen to yourselves. Five of you, five different answers, and none of us has actually found anything yet.” She tapped the card. “We don’t pick one. We look in all five places.”

So they split up the looking, the way the club always does. Gently. No spying, no asking Kai a hundred questions. Just noticing, and being friendly.

By the next Wednesday, the corkboard looked very different.

Bramley pinned up the first card. Body. Kai had started a paper round before school, six mornings a week, to help out at home. He was getting up at half past five. No wonder his head was on the desk.

Thea pinned up the second. Feelings. In the changing rooms, Kai had told her that his dad had lost his job, and that everyone at home was stressed all the time. He hadn’t wanted anyone at school to know.

Orrin pinned up the third. Thinking. The history work had changed to essays, and Kai had missed the two lessons where Mr Bell explained how to plan one. Now every essay felt impossible, so he didn’t start.

Pella pinned up the fourth. Friends. Kai’s best friend had moved to another school at Easter. He didn’t really have anyone to sit with at lunch, so he ate fast and went to the library.

Ashby pinned up the last one. Doing what’s right. Kai felt guilty. He was proud of helping his family, but he also felt bad that he was letting his teachers down, and every missed homework made the guilt bigger, and the guilt made it even harder to face school.

The five of them stood back and looked at the board. Five cards. Five strings. All leading back to one empty desk.

“It’s not one thing,” said Thea quietly. “It’s all of them.”

“A little bit in every place,” said Orrin. “And together it’s a lot.”

Inez nodded. “So is he checked out?”

“No,” said Pella. “He’s carrying a full bag in every hand.”

They didn’t fix Kai’s life. You can’t fix a dad’s job or bring a best friend back. But knowing all five clues meant they could help in five small ways instead of guessing at one. Bramley made sure Kai always had something to eat at break. Orrin showed him the essay plan from the lessons he had missed, one box at a time. Pella invited him to the football at lunch, and he came. Thea kept his secret about home, because it was his to share. And Ashby told him, simply, that he didn’t think Kai was letting anybody down.

Kai also decided, in the end, to talk to Mr Bell himself. Mr Bell gave him an extra week for the essays and moved his seat away from the cold window.

Kai’s desk hasn’t been empty since half-term.

At the next Clue Club, Inez took down the five cards and gave one to each person who’d found it.

“Remember this one,” she said. “When someone seems like they’ve given up, don’t stop at the first clue. Look in all five places. Body, feelings, thinking, friends, doing what’s right.”

Then Bramley asked if anyone had any biscuits, because all this detective work was making him hungry, and everyone agreed that this was an excellent body clue.