Under the school’s stairwell, trouble found him. A group of fourth-graders, bored and looking for a target, spotted him.
- “Yo, blondie, what’s that on your face? Bird poop?” one jeered, elbowing his friends.
Noah’s cheeks burned. He knew they meant his birthmark.
- “Wash your own face,” he muttered, trying to sound brave.
The leader grabbed Noah’s jacket, yanking hard. The fabric tore, two jagged rips across the sleeve. A teacher’s shout broke up the scuffle, but Noah was already running, his eyes stinging. Lisa would be furious—new clothes weren’t cheap. And Ethan? He’d give that heavy, disappointed stare that cut deeper than any words. Ethan had promised to take Mia and Ava to Scoops Ice Cream Parlor after school, a treat for the first day. Noah hadn’t been invited, but he’d hoped, maybe, he could tag along. The torn jacket crushed that dream.
Why did his dad love his sisters more? Mia and Ava got piggyback rides, trips to the lake, even lessons on how to steer the pickup in an empty lot. Noah got nothing—no hugs, no praise, just a pat on the shoulder and a gruff, “You’re a boy, you don’t need coddling.” But Noah craved it, longed to feel his dad’s hand ruffle his hair, to hear a proud “good job” just once. He vowed to earn it, to get straight A’s, to be the best in class. Maybe then Ethan would look at him differently. But the torn jacket was a bad start.
At a bus stop near school, Noah saw a regional transit bus idling, its doors open. Without thinking, he climbed aboard, sinking into a seat by the window. He wanted to escape Lisa’s anger, Ethan’s coldness, the sting of being unwanted. The bus rumbled through Willow Creek, past the diner, the gas station, the Dollar General. Strangers got on and off, their faces a blur. Noah stared out, his reflection pale and small in the glass. At the final stop, the driver, a burly man with a graying beard, called out.
- “Hey, kid, this is the end. Where you going?”
- “Here,” Noah mumbled, slipping past him.
He stepped onto a cracked asphalt lot, the air cooler here at the town’s edge. Beyond a row of shabby houses, Willow Creek Forest loomed, its pines dark and inviting. Noah’s anger flared. If they didn’t want him, he’d leave.
- “I’ll live in the woods,” he thought, kicking a pebble. “Build a fort, eat berries, fish in the creek. Let Dad take the girls for ice cream. I don’t need them.”
Meanwhile, Ethan was at his shop, elbow-deep in a Chevy’s engine, grease smudging his forearms.
- “Finish up, boys,” he called to his two part-time mechanics. “Kids are probably home from school. Promised Mia and Ava some ice cream.”
He wiped his hands on a rag, a rare smile tugging at his lips. The shop was doing well—steady customers, enough to keep the lights on. He headed home, thinking he’d include Noah in the outing. The boy deserved a treat, especially for starting first grade. Ethan knew he’d been hard on Noah, his own pain clouding his love. Maybe today could be a fresh start.
At the house, Mia and Ava bounded into the foyer, their backpacks slung over their shoulders.
- “Dad, are we going to Scoops? Can we get sundaes?” Mia asked, bouncing on her toes.
- “And the arcade after?” Ava added, clutching her unicorn plushie.
- “You bet,” Ethan chuckled. “Where’s Noah? He’s coming too.”
Lisa, lingering in the doorway, froze. Her eyes darted nervously.
- “Noah? You’re taking him? You didn’t say. I’ll… go check on him.”
- “Check on him?” Ethan’s smile vanished. “Where is he?”
Lisa fidgeted, twisting a dish towel.
- “He’s not back from school yet.”
- “What the hell, Lisa? You were supposed to walk him there and back! It’s his first damn day!”
- “It’s only a few blocks,” she said defensively. “He knows the way. I had to hit the store.”
- “It was just an assembly!” Ethan roared. “He should’ve been home hours ago. Go find him—now!”
Lisa scurried out, but Ethan’s gut twisted. He sent the girls to their room and grabbed his keys, calling the school. Mrs. Callahan confirmed Noah had left after the assembly. No one had seen him since. By evening, with no sign of the boy, Ethan drove to the Willow Creek Police Department, filing a missing person report. He barely slept, pacing the living room, guilt clawing at him. He should’ve gone to Noah’s first day, should’ve shown him he mattered. His coldness had driven the boy away.
The next morning, Ethan rallied his shop crew, and they combed the town—alleys, playgrounds, the creek bank. Nothing. Volunteers joined, plastering flyers with Noah’s photo on every lamppost and storefront. The community rallied, neighbors dropping off coffee and donuts for the searchers. A tip came in by noon: a bus driver reported dropping a boy matching Noah’s description at the forest’s edge. Ethan’s heart raced as the search shifted to Willow Creek Forest, a dense sprawl of pines and underbrush. Townsfolk, from the diner cook to the high school principal, joined in, their voices echoing through the trees.
On the third day, Ethan was running on fumes, his eyes bloodshot. He stopped home to grab water and found Rachel, his sister, sitting with Lisa. Rachel, polished in a blazer despite the red-eye flight from Chicago, stood to hug him.
- “I dropped everything when I heard,” she said. “Any news?”
- “We’re searching the forest,” Ethan replied, his voice hoarse. “Wanna help?”
- “Damn right,” Rachel said, grabbing her coat.
- “Lisa?” Ethan asked, his tone flat.
- “I’ll stay with the girls,” she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.
Ethan nodded, unsurprised. He and Rachel headed to the forest, where volunteers fanned out with flashlights. In the car, Rachel picked up a flyer from the passenger seat and gasped.
- “Ethan, Noah’s the spitting image of Grandpa Joe! That teardrop birthmark on his cheek—it’s identical. Skipped a couple generations, huh?”