"Hey, look! It's Limpy Luc!"

Nine-year-old Lucien "Luc" Moreau gripped his crutches tightly and hobbled down the hallway. He exited through the side entrance of the school and went down the white concrete ramp, straight into an array of activities. By now, the schoolyard had become a massive gathering place after school. Loud chatter and laughter spread throughout the school grounds as students celebrated the end of a school week and the start of a five-day break.

Children scampered across the yard towards their parents' cars. Friends hugged each other goodbye with 'Happy Thanksgiving' and 'see you in a week' hanging from their lips. Teachers mingled through the crowds, stopping occasionally to greet a parent or student. Shrill whistle sounds pierced through the air as safety patrol guided cars in and out of the school driveway. School buses honked one final time before closing the doors and pulling away from the driveway. The loudspeakers blasted garbled announcements of upcoming events and important notices.

Luc tuned everything out. Instead, he concentrated on trying to navigate through the crowds without getting knocked over. He trod carefully, his small figure almost blending in with the large crowd of people.

"Hey, limpy! Where you limpin' off to?" A nasty voice sneered. Luc recognized the voice as Deondre Bennett, a fifth-grader who took pleasure in poking fun at his leg injury. He chanced a glance at Mrs. Calvert, one of the teachers on duty. The mousy-looking teacher met his gaze and quickly looked away, resuming her conversation with a parent as if she didn't hear anything. Luc rolled his eyes.

Typical, he thought.

By now, he was used to it. Getting teased for being different was practically the social norm. Luc was half-French and half-Chinese, which made him an automatic target. The fact that he had to walk with crutches only made things worse. Sure, most of the teachers were sympathetic, but they never did anything to prevent it. They merely dismissed them with a "kids will be kids," and left it at that.

"You wanna go a little faster there, Limpy Luc?" Deondre shouted. "At this rate, it'll be tomorrow morning before you make it home." The yard exploded in laughter. Some of the nearby students turned to look at Luc but then quickly turned away. No one stepped in on his behalf, except for one.

"Leave him alone, D," a little girl's voice broke through the noise. Luc couldn't help but smile. Jayla. His best friend, and one of the few kids who didn't care about his leg.

Who also happened to be Deondre's younger sister.

"Awww, does my widdle sister have a widdle crush on the school cripple?" Deondre mocked. His friend burst out laughing again. Some began to make kissing noises. Luc looked back and met Jayla's eyes. Despite her unhappy expression, the girl managed to give him a smile and a wink.

"See you later," she mouthed.

Luc smiled back and gave her a nod in return. He turned and disappeared into the crowd.

-------------------------------

The noise eventually faded as Luc got further away from the school. Soon, he was on a familiar path of trees and townhouses. Step by step, he hobbled down the street while he relished in the quietness. The crutches were a nuisance, but compared to a few years ago when he was confined to either bed or a wheelchair, hobbling was a blessing to him.

"Where's your bodyguard, Limpy Luc?" Deondre's mean voice broke the silence.

Luc tensed, but he continued on his way as if he didn't hear his bully's question.

Normally, he'd go home with Gabby. His sister was tall for an eleven-year-old, and she took full advantage of that. Deondre's group tended to stay away if they saw them together. It wasn't that they were afraid of a single Eurasian girl. It was the fact that this particular girl happened to be quite popular in her class that scared them. Deondre may be tough, but even he wasn't stupid enough to piss off the entire sixth-grade class.

Today, however, Gabby had to stay after school for choir practice. She asked Luc to stay with her so they could leave together afterward, but Luc refused, not wanting to stay at school until five in the evening. Plus, he didn't want to rely on his sister all the time. Luc insisted he'd be fine. After all, it was a mere ten-minute walk to their family-owned Chinese restaurant. How bad could it be?

-------------------------------

Deondre became impatient when Luc didn't answer. "Hey, I'm talkin' to you," he shouted.

"Maybe he's too scared to talk to you, D," a voice piped up. "I guess Wimpy Luc is afraid of you."

That was followed by a mixture of snickers and laugher. "Wimpy Luc, that's a good one," Deondre said with a chuckle. "Yo, wimpy!" he called out. "What's the matter? You got so scared that you forgot how to speak English?"

The silent treatment continued, which only riled Deondre up even further. "Answer me, you freak!" he yelled.

Unable to hold back his anger, Deondre rushed forward and gave Luc a hard shove. He watched as the boy was thrown off-balance, and grinned in satisfaction when he was sent sprawling onto the concrete ground.

His friends roared with laughter, and some even patted him on the back. Deondre stood over Luc's body with a smirk. "Ready to talk now, you stupid weirdo?" he demanded. His hands clenched into fists like he was ready for a fight. So engrossed in his rage, Deondre didn't realize his friends had all become quiet.

Too quiet.

"Man," someone finally spoke up. There was an air of awkwardness as reality set in, and the looks of enjoyment soon turned to fear as the boys stared at Luc.

Luc's left cheek was scrapped with blood and concrete. Although his thick winter clothes padded part of his fall, Deondre could still see blood seeping out from the cheek wound. He blanched at the sight, but no way was he going to show any signs of weakness in front of his friends. He took a threatening step towards Luc. "I'm still waitin' for my answer, you dumb cripple," he shouted.

Someone held him back. "D, that's enough!"

Deondre pushed him off. "Get off me," he yelled.

"Come on, D. We gotta go," someone else called out.

"Shut up!" Deondre forced himself to remain tough, but inside he was panicking. He only wanted to mess with Luc a little. The twerp wasn't supposed to get hurt. If Mom finds out about this...

The sound of sirens broke him out of his thoughts. Deondre looked up, and his heart sank at the sight of the approaching police car.

Shit!

"Cops," someone shouted. There was a scurry of movement as the boys turned and ran in the opposite direction, leaving Luc alone on the streets.

-------------------------------

Groggily, Luc struggled to sit up. He winced as pain shot through his body. A gust of wind blew past him, causing him to shiver. He felt the bitter cold cut into his cheek like a jagged knife. He touched it with a gloved hand. It came away sticky, and his stomach churned in nausea at the sight of blood on his fingers. He took a deep breath and fought back the tears that had welled up in his eyes. At least they're gone, he told himself comfortingly.

There was the sound of a car door opening, followed by approaching footsteps.

"Jesus," a deep voice cursed. Luc turned slightly and caught a glimpse of a man wearing a black snow cap. On it was a police insignia.

"It's all right, son." The man knelt down. "I'm Officer Kevin Sanders of the Chicago PD. Are you okay?" African-American, athletic-built, and from Luc's view, he looked to be six feet tall. For a moment, the boy wondered why he didn't try out for the Bulls.

The sound of static snapped Luc back to reality. "Everything okay, Sanders?"

The police officer tilted his head towards the walkie-talkie on his shoulder. "Yeah," he replied. "Can you bring over the first aid kit?"

For a while, there was no response. Then, Luc heard a car door open. Another figure approached them. He watched a second policeman knelt down in front of him, the requested first aid kit in his hands.

"This is my partner, Officer Owens," Officer Sanders told him. Luc stared curiously at the second policeman, taking note of his Caucasian features. He was nearly the same height as the other policeman, but with a lankier body. He didn't say anything but reached out for Luc. Immediately, the boy tensed.

"Hey, it's okay," Officer Sanders said quickly. "He's just going to take a look at your cheek and see if we can do anything to make it better." He felt around his jacket and took out his badge. "Here." He handed it to Luc. "Technically, I'm not allowed to show this off, but I'm gonna make an exception for you." He gave the boy an encouraging smile.

Luc hesitated for a moment but took the badge. He ran his hand over the metallic surface and studied the large bold letters and serial number. A feeling of nostalgia ran through him. He thought about the badge he had, buried deep in his drawer. It had the identical insignia and letters like the one in his hand, but with a different set of numbers.

"Can you tell me your name?" Officer Sanders asked.

The boy relaxed slightly. "Luc," he replied.

Officer Owens paused at the name. "What did you say your name was?"

"Luc," he repeated.

Officer Owens frowned as he studied him. Then suddenly, his eyes widened in recognition. He closed the first aid kit with a snap. "He needs to go to the hospital now," he said bluntly. He got to his feet. "It'll take forever to wait for an ambulance. We can take him there ourselves." Without waiting for a response, he gingerly picked Luc off the ground. The boy started with the sudden movement.

"Now, wait just a minute," Officer Sanders protested. "It's just a cheek wound."

"It's not his cheek I'm worried about, it's his legs," said Officer Owens. "And grab his crutches, will 'ya?"

Luc's head spun. What's going on? He stared at the officer with a puzzled frown. How does he know about my legs?

"You don't remember me, do you?"

Luc shook his head dumbly. Was he supposed to remember him?

"It's okay," Officer Owens reassured him. "You're going to be okay, son."

-------------------------------

Officer Sanders brought the crutches and first aid kit to the car just as his partner was settling Luc into the backseat.

"Your wife works at County, right?" Owens asked.

"Yeah," Sanders replied, wondering where this was going.

"Think you can call ahead to let them know we're coming?"

Sanders folded his arms. "I need an explanation, Danny," he said. "We can get in trouble for doing this."

His partner stared back. "This is Moreau's son."

Officer Sanders stilled at the name. "Moreau as in your ex-partner, Moreau?"

Owens nodded. Sanders mentally swore. That'd explain his bizarre behavior. Sanders didn't know the late Police Officer Eric Moreau personally, but from what he heard, he and Owens were partners and close friends, having known each other since their days at the academy.

This put him in a bind. As a more seasoned police officer, Owens had seniority over him. However, what they were about to do didn't fit standard protocol. On the other hand, this was a chance for him to build a better working relationship with his partner, but it could also put his job at risk. He already made a few rookie mistakes by not noticing the boy's legs and the nearby crutches. The last thing he wanted was to be viewed as incompetent for not following the rules. Or get a rep for being a bad partner, he thought.

"Just make the call, Kevin. I'll take full responsibility if anything happens." Officer Owens' impatient voice cut into his thoughts.

For a second, Sanders wondered if his partner could read minds. Getting in the car, he picked up the radio and contacted dispatch, informing them of the situation. He then radioed the hospital to notify them of their impending arrival.

Running into your partner's old partner's kid on your first day of patrol. What are the odds? He mused as he looked over to Owens, who was in the backseat talking softly to the boy.

He waited until his partner settled into the passenger seat before pulling away from the sidewalk. "What's wrong with his legs?" he asked quietly.

"Car accident, five years ago," Officer Owens explained. "He and his mom were on their way to meet Eric at the station when a car ran a red light and slammed straight into them. Luc barely made it, but his mother was pronounced dead at the scene.

"He was four at the time, and his legs were so banged up the doctors weren't sure if he could ever walk again. Eric used to give me updates on how he's doing, but after he died..." Owens' voice trailed off and looked out the window. "I can't believe it has been five years already. I almost didn't recognize him."

"You didn't keep tabs on him?"

Owens shook his head. "After Eric died, his kids were adopted by his wife's relatives and they moved to Chinatown. I was stationed at the 22nd precinct at the time, and work was so busy I could never find time to swing by."

Sanders didn't know what to say. He observed the boy in the rearview mirror. Luc had fallen asleep, a blanket over his small body. He could only imagine the boy's devastation when he lost his parents. No kid should go through this kind of pain.

"Don't worry, man. It happens to the best of us. Who knows? Maybe this will be your chance to be in his life again." He gave Owens a smile. "A couple of hours here and there, and the kid will be calling you Uncle Danny in no time."

"Uncle Danny, huh?" Owens chuckled. "I like the sound of that."

-------------------------------

She looked up when the back door swung open.

"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded. Deondre shrugged and slammed the door close. "I asked you a question, boy!"

Deondre rolled his eyes. "I was hangin' out with my friends," he finally answered. "It's no big deal, Mom." He tried to sound as casual as possible.

He was rewarded with a smack on the head. "Don't play smart with me, boy," his mother told him harshly. "I said you are to come home right after school..."

"And I did!" Deondre cut her off.

His mother, however, was relentless. "So why did you say you were hangin' out with friends, huh? You lyin' to me now?"

"I walked back with my friends, all right?" Deondre exclaimed. "That is hangin' out."

His mother looked ready to strangle him. "Well, I don't remember giving you permission to do that," she yelled. "Do you know what time it is?"

Deondre turned to look at the wall clock. 5:30. "So? It takes time to walk home," Deondre fired back defensively.

His mom looked ready to argue but suddenly looked behind him and frowned. "Where's Jayla?"

Deondre looked puzzled. "She's not home?"

"What do you mean 'she's not home'?" His mother's eyes blazed with fury. "You two are supposed to come home together. Why isn't she with you?"

Deondre's heart dropped. They were supposed to walk home together, but today he had told Jayla to go home first so he could mess with Luc for a bit. He didn't think it'd take long, and that that he'd catch up with her later.

"Where is she, Deondre? And don't lie to me this time," his mother pressed on firmly.

Deondre's mind went blank. "She was supposed to be home before me," he whispered.

"Well, she's not here," his mother screamed in his face. "So I'm asking you again. Where. Is. She?"

-------------------------------

Thanksgiving break was over all too soon. On Monday, they were dragged out of bed early in the morning to prepare for a new school week. Cars piled into the school driveway as parents dropped off their children before heading off to work. Teachers walked about the school hallways, occasionally stopping to greet a student or two. Kids lingered out in the schoolyard to savor their last moment of freedom before heading inside the massive prison that was school. Friends gathered by the lockers while keeping an eye on the school clock.

It looked like any typical school day.

Except, should anyone listened closely, they would hear that the same name echoed throughout the school.

"Did you hear about Jayla?"

"Who?"

"Jayla Bennett, Deondre's sister."

"Deondre the Bully?"

"Yeah, but his sister is really sweet."

"O... kay. So what about her?"

"She's missing."