The Kindergarten Teacher Who Doesn’t Exist

With those words, the entire chat seemed to sink under a suffocating weight.

Mrs. Sherman wrote: [My son came home today and smashed the TV, saying he had to find some kind of time machine.]

Mr. Clark added: [That’s nothing. At least yours is just clueless. You did not see my boy. He has gone completely off the rails. He drew a door on the wall with crayons, then kept banging his head against it! Said Miss Never gave him a Magic Door, and if he broke through, he could reach the moon. It scared me half to death!]

Mrs. Jones chimed in: [Your kids are clearly possessed. Let us come over and cleanse them. Three-visit package, twenty percent discount!]

I asked Mrs. Jones out of curiosity: [Mrs. Jones, is little Veren acting strange too?]

Veren’s grandmother, Mrs. Jones, answered: [That child is a loner. All she ever does is draw, draw, and draw. What trouble could that cause?] Then, she attached a photo.

Mrs. Sherman wrote: [That is exactly the kind of kid you need to watch. The more withdrawn they are, the more likely something bad happens.]

Mrs. Jones replied: [Don’t you curse my grandson! If something happens, I will come after you myself!]

…

Back and forth it went, but no one had any answers.

Finally, Miss Zinn broke in to summarize: [Based on what the kids said, they first started seeing Miss Never earlier this month. The police and I went through an entire day of classroom footage. Nothing unusual showed up. But please, do not scare yourselves too much. What we do know for certain is that Miss Never has to be a real person.]

Then she dropped a photo into the chat.

[This card was found on Alice’s body. Police suspect her death is directly connected to it.]

I tapped the image open.

It was a piece of plain white cardstock from the kindergarten. A girl with pigtails soared toward the moon with a bamboo-copter spinning on her head.

Beside her were neat, deliberate words: [Welcome back, Alice Lane.]

The handwriting and drawing style were far too mature for a child.

Hence, the police concluded the card must have come from Miss Never, planted to drive Alice toward her death.

Miss Zinn reminded everyone in the chat: [If anyone finds notes like this on their child, call the police immediately.]

[Also, I’ve arranged leave for the kids who mentioned seeing Miss Never. Until we know more, please, everyone, watch your children closely. Keep them safe. And if you learn anything—any clue at all—share it right away.]

Mrs. Sherman replied: [Okay.]

Mr. Clark responded: [No problem.]

Mrs. Jones answered: [Got it.]

After returning home screen, I felt utterly drained.

I wandered into the kitchen, meaning to check how Justin was doing with his dinner, only to hear him murmuring to himself again.

“Miss Never, if I finish making the Memory Bread and give it to Mommy, does that mean I’ve completed my task?”

Memory bread?

A terrible premonition slammed into me.

I rushed over and saw him clutching a bottle of rat poison I had never seen in our house, sprinkling it frantically over slices of bread.

“Who gave you this?” I grabbed his hand.

We did not keep poison at home. He had not been anywhere else since returning from kindergarten. The only explanation was that it came from someone inside the kindergarten.

Startled by my outburst, his eyes welled up with tears. “Miss Never said I’m not allowed to tell anyone.”

I forced myself to stay calm, taking a steady breath. “It was Miss Never, wasn’t it? Did she also give you a card?”

Justin stared at me, wide-eyed with surprise. “Mom! How did you know?”

I held out my palm and told him to show it to me.

After fidgeting for a long moment, he finally pulled a small, illustrated card from his pocket.

Just as I expected—it was the same eerie style as the one found on Alice.

However, then I noticed something wrong.

In a flash, the pieces fell into place.

I snatched up my phone and dialed Miss Zinn. “Miss Zinn, I know who Miss Never is!”