The Last of the Bread Crumbs

The lake had retreated a couple of feet since the last time Everest Wei had visited the Arboretum… which wasn’t that long ago she realized. Every year, their school, Spring Academy, took a single bus to the botanical garden. Yes, the whole k-3rd grade school in one mini bus. A private school, the adults called it, but that didn’t mean anything to the children. She remembered how just last year, in the second grade, the murky moss water had reached the edge of the dirt pathway and how her class, twice the size it was now, used to throw rocks in there. But now, a round downhill beach was exposed. The strange palm tree that grew horizontally and then out of the water was now totally climbable in the dry air as Everest watched her classmates, Christopher Chen and River Arguello dare each other to do it.

“I’ll climb it if you climb it,” River said.

“Yeah. I’ll do it if you do it,” Christoper answered.

The only two boys left in the class, they had bonded quickly that past year, yet neither of them knew what school the other was going to the following year. River said he’d just go to Christopher’s school. Christopher said he’d just go to River’s school. Like they had a choice. They could only condition themselves for when the time came.

“You go first,” Christopher said.

“You’re closer. I’ll be right behind you.” River assured.

Sitting on her bench, Everest couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She couldn’t wait to move to the 4th grade where everyone would be just as mature as her. She knew for a fact this would be true because her mom took her to the school’s open house and everyone there wore clean cut red jackets and plaid skirts. Everest looked at the empty seat next to her, but then turned her face up to the blue sky and palm fern canopies. Taking a deep breath, she appreciated the quiet rustle of the leaves and the chill fragrant smell of bark. She glanced around to see if anyone had noticed just how comfortable she was by herself.

However, the boys’ activity seemed to catch more eyes as Wendy Guidry, who was examining the bark of the curved palm tree, climbed onto its trunk, pushing Christopher and River aside. Everest swung her legs beneath the wooden bench. It was fine. Everest prided her keen observant skills anyway. It meant she was mature.

Wendy said, “Here. I’ll do it, you two babies. Plus, there’s gotta be some more clues at the top.”

Wendy was always going on about maps and secret treasures. Sometimes in class, she’d set up scavenger hunts for the rest of them to play, which Everest admitted could be pretty fun despite its childishness. However, Ms. Kapoor would make Wendy include an “educational component” so when Everest thought about it, it probably wasn’t so fun. Anyway, Wendy looked for treasure everywhere, even on this field trip. She went quite mad when she found “A + M” carved in a tree outside of the forest. It was why the group followed her here in the first place. Not that the group was complaining. The rest of them were incapable of making any decisions at all.

Everest watched as Wendy scooted up the tree rather hastily. She was not afraid of heights or bugs. Wendy Guidry was not afraid of anything. Except for one thing. Her parents had told her they were enrolling her in public school. It was then that Wendy realized that the word “private” actually meant something and that there was an opposite word. An opposite school. Thus, while River and Christopher danced in circles and Everest sat in silence counting down the days, Wendy made it her duty to inform her peers of the wicked truths of reality.

“It’s a backwards school,” she’d tell them like it was a ghost story. “It’s this place where there’s like a hundred kids in a class and they have this thing where you move around through different classes. One for English and one for math and it’s taught by two different teachers. They do this so they can split you up from your friends because everyone there doesn’t like you talking. If you talk you get sent to this thing called detention which is basically child jail. But I don’t get it. If you can’t say anything, how do you decide what you’re going to do that day? Like no more scavenger hunts in class. What else is there?”

And although everyone in the class didn’t quite understand it, they believed her. She was the line leader after all. Everest, though, was displeased that someone like Wendy could know more than her.

Wendy only got about halfway up the palm tree until Ms. Kapoor noticed. She was walking down the dirt pathway with Amelia Francis. Everest sighed. She hoped that Wendy would make it to the top.

“Wendy!” their teacher said. “Get down from there please before you get hurt.”

“But there might be another clue, Ms. Kapoor,” Wendy argued.

“I don’t think-”

Amelia interrupted, waving around a zip block bag. “Ms. Kapoor found my bread crumbs!”

Christopher and River rushed over. Wendy started to crawl off. Everest stayed seated. Feeding ducks was for children.

“Slowly, Wendy! Please!” Ms. Kapoor said.

Christopher jumped excitedly.

“Where were they?” River asked.

“I dropped them at the entrance,” Amelia said.

The children crowded around Amelia.

Ms. Kapoor said, “Technically, we aren’t allowed to feed the wildlife here.”

“I brought them all this way,” Amelia said.

“Please! Please!” everyone started.

Everest covered her ears with her palms. That opposite school where everyone had to be quiet was sounding pretty nice right about now. Everest thought that Wendy should be glad to go to that school. It’d make her more mature.

Ms. Kapoor grimaced. “I know but the rules-”

Fresh out of college, the academy was Ms. Kapoor’s first hired position as a teacher. She arrived when Everest was in the first grade. She was young and beautiful and so nice that everyone couldn’t wait to have Ms. Kapoor in their last year of school.

“We can’t stay long,” their teacher said. “There’s still a lot to see here and we only have about an hour before we head back and I know we all want to help Wendy find that treasure. And I don’t see any ducks at all. Maybe a few fish. That should be fine right? But really, we shouldn’t. But oh, if you really want to. A few minutes.”

Everest was beginning to think Ms. Kapoor might be too nice and it made her feel a little limp, her mind unable to grasp why it could ever be such a bad thing.

Christopher grabbed at the bag, but Amelia pulled it away.

“Hey!”

“Can I have some?” he asked.

“Ask politely, Christopher,” Amelia said.

“Can I have some? Please?” he said.

“Okay, okay,” Amelia said. “Just hold on.”

Amelia was a sweet but empty girl. She was the most unlikely out of the five students to ever be somebody which probably meant she was going to be somebody as the world often likes to play ironic surprises on people. It seemed to go down that path as Amelia was transferring to an elementary art school the next year and how she waited for Christopher, River, and Wendy to make a quiet semi-circle around her. She smirked as they cupped their hands out and pleaded. Even Wendy found herself at Amelia’s mercy. Amelia didn’t even look over to Everest who remained seated. Everest made a show of stretching her arms. It didn’t seem to do the trick as Ms. Kapoor approached. Everest slumped.

“What are you doing Everest?” she asked, looking down at the girl.

She rested her hands behind her head. “You know. I’m just sitting here. Enjoying the view, you know.”

“Well, why don’t I sit with you?”

Ms. Kapoor took a seat next to Everest. She was quite round hipped so Everest scooted a bit closer to the left arm. She felt a knot form in her throat as she feigned a great interest in the white and red summer cottage across the lake. She knew her teacher was just being nice, but this wasn’t exactly what Everest wanted. She didn’t like talking to adults.

“I think I’ll get, you know, some breadcrumbs,” Everest said.

Ms. Kapoor nodded, but it was so slight that Everest couldn’t tell.

When Ms. Kapoor realized she needed to give a response, she rushed, “Yes, Everest. Of course you can go.”

So the girl got out of the seat and asked Amelia, “May I please have some?”

Amelia beamed. “Here you go!”

When Everest didn’t say anything, Amelia said, “You’re welcome.”

Everest nodded and walked away, carrying the perfect square pieces of grain bread that Amelia got up especially early to cut. Christopher was already getting seconds. The mandarin ducks filled up the lake so much that the water level seemed to be rising. Everest had no idea where they came from. Some even waddled onto the beach, quacking aggressively for more.

Ms. Kapoor had gotten up to her feet again, tentatively pulling some of her students back but they pulled away from her weak grasp.

“Why don’t we all back away. Does that sound like a good idea?” she asked. “Class? We should go now. Do you want to do that? I think so.”

Slowly but surely, Ms. Kapoor was able to nudge the group to move their legs and keep walking. They walked backward around the edge of the lake, entering the thick mass of trees that made up the man-made forest, but they didn’t stop feeding the ducks. The animals waddled with them, some cruising on the lake next to them. Pine needles were strewn all over the dirt ground like some kind of branch snow. The ground was squishy like the foam floor of their school’s playground.

Everest continued flinging her crumbs as the ducks rushed toward her for a snack. She smiled. She’d forgotten how fun it could be. The ducks demanded more though, forming a crowd in front of her. The ducks only wanted one thing from her, food. If they didn’t have Amelia’s crumbs, they’d never bother to say hello to her. People were like ducks. Everest thought herself quite intelligent for making that connection.

Amelia had lagged behind and Ms. Kapoor had to backstep.

“I’m trying to give the bread crumb to the turtle,” Amelia said.

A small turtle’s head peeked from beneath the surface of the murky lake water, its shell barely visible beneath the ripples. Amelia kept aiming for it, but the ducks and fish were faster. There were just too many of them. Ms. Kapoor crossed her hands and waited patiently.

“I just want to give it a bite. Everyone else is being so mean,” she said.

Up ahead, Wendy had given up and thrown the rest of her bread straight into the water. It peppered the surface like ashes from a forest fire and was quickly gobbled up by the large koi fish. She was more interested in a line of eight pinecones on the ground. She was probably thinking it was a clue. Eight steps in which direction? Wendy’s ducks quacked but when realizing she had no more food, joined the large group following River and Christopher who were bickering about Pokemon stats.

“Yes!” Amelia said as she raced to catch up with the rest of them. “I fed a turtle! Did you feed a turtle? Because I did.”

She knocked over Wendy’s pinecone line and startled many of the ducks so they flew back into the water.

“Wow, thanks Amelia,” Christopher said.

“Yeah. Thanks,” River said.

That’s what Everest was going to say, but she just shook her head at Amelia.

“Excuse me,” Amelia said. “But who brought the bread in the first place? Me. I fed a turtle. I can show you.”

“Nobody cares,” River said.

Everest wanted to know but she shook it off. She didn’t need to feed a turtle. It was fine.

Ms. Kapoor caught up to Wendy who was trying to align the pinecones upright again, but she couldn’t remember the order.

“Maybe we should keep up with everyone else,” Ms. Kapoor said.

Wendy kicked the pinecones with her foot, and yelped; they were heavy fellas. Ms. Kapoor backed up a little.

“Let’s go.” Wendy stomped off, but it was too slow so she ended up running and pushed her way to the front, purposely using her hands to shove past Amelia.

“Hey!” she said.

“Wendy, I saw that,” Ms. Kapoor said, reaching behind them.

Wendy pushed Amelia again. “How do you like being knocked over?”

Ms. Kapoor tried putting her hands on each of their shoulders to pull them apart, but she was swatted off. River grabbed Wendy and Christopher grabbed Amelia but then Wendy and Amelia began fighting River and Christopher. And Everest only sighed and looked out to the water at the anxious ducks. She fed them some more.

“Please, everyone, settle down, please,” their teacher tried.

Luckily for Ms. Kapoor, an old man hobbled down their path and that got everyone to shut up quickly. The worst thing to do in front of a very old person was to act like a child. He leaned heavily on his cane, his baggy skin falling at every step. He didn’t say a single word. When he had passed, nothing had physically changed, but the students had all stopped fighting. There was just something draining about the old man. He sucked energy out like a vampire. However, in Everest’s opinion, it was only because he dispelled some maturity on them like bread crumbs, but these ones tasted kind of bad to Everest’s dismay.

Soon, they reached the end of the forest and entered an open, freshly cut lawn in front of the glossy red and white cottage Everest had spotted across the lake. The ducks had met them and started to waddle out again. They were determinedly hungry.

Amelia gave everyone another serving of the bread except for Wendy who had already clambered up the cottage steps and was pressing her face all over the hinged windows.

“Is there a way in?” she asked.

Ms. Kapoor peered over Wendy’s shoulder. “This cottage belonged to the owner of the Arboretum who bought this land as his summer home. He got rich from the railroad-”

“Whatever. How do I get inside?”

“It’s just for show, Wendy.”

Everest joined them. “What are you looking at? Oh, pretty.”

Inside, elaborate and old fashioned living rooms and tea sets were arranged delicately in the rooms. It looked brand new despite being the furniture of centuries past.

“Yes. Pretty.” Wendy was beginning to succumb to the idea that there might be no treasure at all.

Ms. Kapoor said, “I’m sorry, Wendy. It’s hard to strike gold.”

Everest didn’t understand why Ms. Kapoor was sorry. Saying sorry was the hardest thing for a kid to do, but for some reason adults used it excessively for no reason at all. And of course Wendy’s treasure would be hard to find. People thought her a foolish girl for trying so hard, but Everest understood. She knew that when Wendy got older, she'd never look for treasure again. She wouldn’t have the time. So if she wanted to find gold and live care free for the rest of her life, she needed to find it now. Everest didn’t know how to break it to Wendy. It'd probably scare her more than the public school. Or maybe they were the same thing.

Everest decided not to say anything as she walked down the front steps of the cottage to join Amelia, River, and Christopher. She still had some bread crumbs clutched tightly in her sweaty palm. She scraped the pieces off that stuck to her fingers by smacking her hands together. All the ducks immediately flocked to her. Everest tried to hide her grin, but then it turned into a very visible scowl as Amelia childishly jumped into the middle of the twenty or so ducks that had gathered, littering crumbs in her wake like how rich people made it rain, stealing Everest’s thunder.

“I need more bread!” Christopher yelled.

Ms. Kapoor, who had walked back down to the lawn with Wendy by her side, put her hands on her hips. “Let’s all try to be a little more quiet, please.”

Amelia sighed. There was none left. Christopher fell to his knees quite dramatically. Ms. Kapoor bent down to help him up, worried.

“Noooo!” Christopher wailed.

Suddenly, a hoard of Canadian geese flapped their wings as they exited the water and approached the third grade class. They honked, which somehow made them seem twice as big. Everyone looked at their empty hands. They had nothing left to give.

“Now, children, let’s all slowly walk away,” Ms. Kapoor said, placing her hands on their shoulders.

Christopher pulled away. “Run!”

He started sprinting and the geese seemed to catch the energy, honking all at once and flapping their gray wings. Everyone then started to run, even Ms. Kapoor who followed behind them yelling ahead to the children to watch where they were going. Please. They laughed and Everest was filled with excitement. Back through the forest of fern foliage they went. Wendy had rushed to the front, naturally, and had led them off the dirt path, despite Ms. Kapoor’s “stern” warning against it.

“Poop!” Wendy called ahead.

In a line they jumped one after another: Wendy, River, Christopher, Amelia, Everest, Ms. Kapoor. Everest could hear Ms. Kapoor gasping for breath. Amelia did too.

“Wendy!” Amelia cried. “Slow down!”

The line stopped. At that moment, Everest also took the time to bend over her knees to catch her breath. A little too fast for her. They continued on foot. Everest wondered where Wendy was taking them this time.

“Where are we going?” Christopher asked.

Wendy didn’t respond. It was then that everyone realized their line leader had no plan for the future. No one, however, was willing to take her place. They had no idea either. And Ms. Kapoor seemed tired.

“Are we lost?”

“We’re lost!”

“No we’re not.”

“Everyone calm down.”

“This is Wendy’s fault for leading us off the path.”

Then, Everest heard distant shouts and laughter through the trees.

“Did you hear that?” Everest asked.

Everyone turned around at the sound of her voice.

“What?” River asked.

“Be quiet,” Everest said.

The wind ruffled the greens and the noise of other children closer.

“We should follow it,” Everest said.

The rest of the class couldn’t agree more and they waited. Everest realized they were waiting on her to lead them out. So she stopped and listened closely, closing her eyes and pinpointed that the sound was louder in her left ear so she walked in that direction. Boy, did she feel mature, but it was a different feeling. Usually when she thought of herself as mature, it was when she was apart from the group and her chest felt lower, down to her stomach, but now it felt elevated, up to her neck. This must be what it was supposed to feel like.

As the sounds of children grew louder and louder, the trees became thinner and thinner, until they reached the very end of the Arboretum. A real sized model train station was set up. Behind it was a chain link fence. A few tracks of railroad were nailed into the ground. The station house was to the right, a small, big roofed building. A classic steam locomotive, newly painted in black, was on the railroad tracks, open for the public to walk through. The Spring Academy kindergarten class was the origin of the noise. The biggest class with about twenty five kids were goofing around, swinging on the ladders on the train or digging through the dirt like wild monkeys.

When Mr. Jules saw the third grade class coming, he said, “Waterfall!”

All the kids answered, “shhhhh” and quieted down.

“Let’s get going and let the third grade class have the train station for a while.”

Amelia puffed her chest out as the kindergarteners walked past them in a line holding each other’s hands. It was nice being the oldest. The third grade class got privileges because things were ending. They got the train to themselves. Everest thought it was cool. Ms. Kapoor just wanted to sit down. So she led them all inside.

They climbed the ladder and through the door. The five kids each took their seat, one behind the other. Ms. Kapoor kneeled, facing the back face of the bench so she could look at the children.

She coughed. “I actually. Well. I have something for you all.”

This perked everyone’s ears.

“A prize?” Wendy asked excitedly.

“Sort of… You all are promoting in a week,” she said.

This was not news. The five students were sick of hearing it.

Ms. Kapoor continued, “And you’re all on your own paths toward different schools.”

River glanced behind his seat at Christopher.

“Well I just thought, although we didn’t find any treasure today, I could give you some.”

Ms. Kapoor took something out of her purse. It was a small pink treasure chest that one might find at an aquatics shop. She passed five down the row. Everest opened it. Taped to the back of the lid was a picture of the five students and Ms. Kapoor on their first day of class. They were all making silly faces. Everest couldn’t stand looking at pictures of herself, but she had to admit the gesture was sweet.

Despite this, none of the children said a word and looked elsewhere. They couldn’t understand yet why they’d ever need a gift like that.

Ms. Kapoor rubbed her hands together. “I just thought, you know. I wish I had cherished my elementary school days more. It’s why I like to teach. I just... thought this would be nice.”

But all the students couldn’t help but feel that they were given a worthless plastic treasure box and picture, realizing for the first time, just how cheap Ms. Kapoor really was. It was hard to think otherwise. It really was, because no matter how still the train was stationed, the five Spring Academy children looked out of their windows, and their bright, dancing imaginations could only picture the fantastical scenes zipping by on a train moving forward.