Charles Monologue

“‘Charles?’ she said. ‘We don’t have any Charles in the kindergarten.’” “Charlie, then,” I told her, relaxing against the wall, “Charles is just what Laurie calls him.” Of course, with Laurie just in kindergarten, he must have given him a nickname. However, the teacher’s face still did not show any sign of recognition. “No, we don’t have any Charlie either,” she said, brow furrowed, as she tucked a strand of long, dark hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure who this ‘Charles’ is. Are you sure you aren’t talking about another class?” Her smile looked a little strained now. Maybe Charles’ mother had asked her to not mention him. “You are Laurie’s teacher, right?” I asked her, frowning slightly. Perhaps she taught a different class. Yes, that would explain it, I decided.
“This is my class,” she remarked, pointing out a list of names, “but there’s no Charles, Charlie, not even a Charlotte.” “But you must know Charles!” I laughed, thinking of all the tales of the troublemaker that Laurie had brought home. “Laurie’s told us all about him. Charles is the boy that hit and yelled. He’s the one that was fresh, and Laurie told us that just a week ago, he told a little girl to say a bad word twice, and she did it!” I glanced up at the teacher and saw understanding flooding across her face. She started nodding slowly. “Was it Laurie who told you all this about Charles?” She asked, placing a soft hand on my shoulder. When I nodded, she asked me another question. “Has Laurie always been honest with you?” To this, I just tilted my head curiously. Laurie was just a kindergartener. He couldn’t be expected to do everything right all of the time. The teacher seemed to take my silence as a yes and went to say something. Then she hesitated. A sick feeling of dread crept into my stomache as I got an inkling of what this was about. “Charles...well, Charles