People In The Curtains
By
M.T.Graves
Smashwords Edition through Featherwood Publishing
Copyright 1993 M.T.Graves
ISBN 9781935685036
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This work may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to www.smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Printed copies of this book are available at
http://www.featherwoodpublishing.com
Finalist in the 2010 International Book Awards
Young Adult Fiction
Contains
Some suggestive sexual content
and numerous profanities.
This book is self-rated
PG-13
Parental Guidance
Not for very young readers
****
We’ve all seen things we thought were there,
But hesitate to tell.
Especially at night when all is dark,
Perhaps they come from hell.
They move between the shadows,
They crawl across the floor.
We hide beneath our satin sheets,
And hope they come no more.
As morning sun approaches,
They slither out of sight.
Another day without them,
Until the coming night.
But if you have a special gift,
That opens up your mind.
The only way to deal with them,
Is to learn about their kind.
You think that you can know me,
By looking in my eyes.
But can you see tomorrow
By looking at the skies?
So sleep, baby, sleep.
Tomorrow is another day.
Try to sleep, baby, sleep.
Tomorrow find another way.
****
Chapter One
Darkness surrounded him. A tingling sensation crept up his spine.
Aaron swallowed hard and felt his heart pounding in his chest. His attempts to conjure up his last moments of awareness were unsuccessful. All past memories were gone. He reached up and pressed his hand against his head, as a burning sensation shot through his skull and into his brain. He pinched his eyes shut until the pain passed. Taking a deep breath, he reopened them.
Reaching out in hopes of learning of his surroundings, his arm brushed against a strap that crossed his chest. Instantly he reached over and followed the strap down to the canteen that hung at his waist. His fingers tapped a moment against the metal container, as he recollected its role as part of his scouting uniform. Immediately he remembered his flashlight that was strapped to the other side of his belt and he reached for it.
The only other occasion he recalled this much total blackness was when his scouting troop had ventured into Goosecreek Cave, two summers ago. When the group reached the end of the tunnel and was about to turn back, the Scoutmaster insisted that everyone turn off their flashlights. The darkness was breathtaking. After a few minutes in total blackness, the young scout’s brains became concerned with the lack of even the smallest amount of light being sent to them and shot out warning messages, in the form of stomach quivers. One by one, the cub scouts grew anxious and complained that enough time had elapsed and that they should begin their journey out. A resounding sigh was heard from the boys when they were allowed to switch their flashlights back on.
Aaron smiled as he remembered how silly they all acted.
Fumbling with the hook at his side, Aaron finally held the light in his hand. He flipped it on and pointed it out away from his body, scanning the area. The beam of light shined out into the darkness, but never rested upon any solid objects. It was as though the cave was so enormous, that its walls were beyond the light’s reach.
Aaron turned the light back towards himself to be sure it was working. He shined it against his hand. It was indeed on. Again he swept the area with light, but could see nothing but himself in the limited glow that shown outwards.
He felt a drop of sweat roll down the side of his face, even though the temperature surrounding him was quite cool. He held his breath and listened.
Nothing.
“Hey!” he screamed and then listened again. There was no echo to his call in the thick air. The hair on his arms raised, as he assessed the situation. Goosebumps sent a chill across his body. He turned his head to the left, then the right, searching for anything that could give an answer to where he was.
Suddenly something brushed past him, bumping him and knocking the flashlight from his hand, sending him back into total darkness. Aaron gasped and jumped backwards. He held himself still, hoping that whatever it was wouldn’t be able to find him.
A few moments passed.
Quietly, Aaron squatted and reached both hands down to the ground to search for his fallen flashlight. His hands passed well beyond the expected footing, farther than his tennis shoes… yet he felt absolutely nothing. Nothing! Not even the ground.
Tears filled Aaron’s eyes as he jumped up and flung out his arms, waving them feverously through the thick air.
“This isn’t possible,” he gasped to himself, as he edged his way into the darkness. He could hear his wheezing lungs fill and spill as he labored for each breath. His heart pounded in his ears. Aaron stopped and shut his eyes, as a spinning sensation suddenly engulfed him. He gripped his head tightly and swallowed some deep breaths, slowly calming himself. His balance returned, as he fought to stay focused. He could reason this through if he tried hard enough. Aaron decided to start with what he knew.
The air felt cool and damp, but smelled stale.
He knew he was not alone. Someone, or something, was there with him. Something was watching him. A chill ran down his back and he shuddered.
“Who’s there? I know you’re there, I can...,” he stopped short and listened.
Shuffling sounds reached him from all directions, then suddenly stopped. Silence.
Aaron’s eyes flew open and he froze motionless, daring to not even breath. His body began to shake, trembling beyond his control.
Directly before him, a pinpoint of light appeared. He swept at it with his hand, but it was farther away than he had imagined. Aaron focused on it as it grew. It appeared to be quite a distance from where he stood. Quickly, the boy bolted towards it, hoping to find some element of safety. His feet fell heavy, as they labored through the darkness. The air was thick like water and running proved an uneasy task. As Aaron neared the light, it grew brighter and the boy shielded his eyes from its brilliance. He slowed his pace, finally stopping. He breathed heavily, hoping he had outdistanced the others.
The starry light cast a faint glow on the vast area surrounding the boy and Aaron finally saw his companions, as they flowed past him, caught in the wake of his sudden movement. The creatures didn’t appear to be solid beings. They were more like negatives or silhouettes. Their shadowy appearances made no sense, since there was nothing viable to cast a shadow against, except for the air itself. Aaron tried to estimate their number, but found they melted in and out of each other as they surged towards the light.
The child watched quietly as they drifted past him, entering the light source, disappearing from his view. Hesitantly, he took another step towards the beam.
“Wait,” a faint voice called out from behind him.
Aaron looked back and tilted his head. Had he heard someone?
“Wait, don’t go yet.”
It was a man’s voice. It sounded friendly. Aaron noticed someone approaching from the darkness. A tall thin figure of a man. It didn’t appear to be a shadow creature. This was a real person.
“Please, don’t go yet.” An old man reached towards Aaron, turning him away from the white star. He noticed the boy’s look of concern. “Don’t worry about them. They’re quite harmless.” He got down on one knee and observed the child, as a wide smile crossed his wrinkled face. “Do you know me?” He waited patiently, as the boy studied his leathery face.
Aaron nodded slowly. “I think so,” he said. Something was familiar about this man, but he couldn’t recall what.
The old gentleman laughed softly. He took the boy’s small hands in his. His large wrinkled hands felt warm and welcoming.
Aaron’s attention was drawn downward. On the back of the man’s left hand was a mark. It caught the child’s interest.
“Look!” Aaron remarked, as he traced over the old man’s blemish with his small finger. “You have a bird on your hand.” The lad held up his own hand with a similar marking and smiled. “Me too.” He grinned up at the old man. “We both have birds on our hands.”
The man tenderly nodded and smiled back. “Yes. We’re a lot alike, you and me.” The gentleman glanced back towards the light as it slowly began to fade. “I came to help you find your way in the dark.” He wrapped his long arms around the boy and held him tight.
Aaron felt safe. The light dimmed away and again he found himself in total darkness, but this time he wasn’t alone with the shadows. He breathed heavily as a familiar peppermint smell filled the air. He almost remembered when he knew it.
Time crept by as the old man rocked the boy, humming lightly to himself. Aaron cuddled into the warmth of the gentleman’s jacket, content to rest. Before long, the boy was asleep.
Faint noises came from the darkness in the distance. Aaron awakened. He listened carefully to the mumblings and strained to make them out. Were people talking? He lifted his face to the man and smiled, even though he couldn’t see him in the darkness. A calm came over him. Everything would be okay.
****
“It looks like he’s back,” someone spoke in a loud demanding voice.
Aaron jerked. The sudden voice startled him. He felt himself slip through the folds of the peppermint jacket and out of the arms of the old gentleman. His eyes burned as he fought to open them. Light filled the room with blazing brightness.
“Close those blinds,” another stern voice yelled out, “and get his mother in here, now.”
As the light in the room softened, Aaron could see several people hurrying around. To his left he could see a tall dark figure, back-lighted by the window. To his right, a bottle of water dripping endlessly into a long tube. The room was stark white with little decoration. The effort to open his eyes proved too much and he allowed them to close again. He drew in a deep breath and knew he was not where he had been. The air here was warm and dry.
He felt someone lift his hand.
“Aaron, honey. Are you awake?” whispered his mother’s voice.
Aaron tried to open his eyes, but they were too heavy. Instead, he smiled. He heard soft crying at his side, as someone kissed his hand. Aaron licked his lips and swallowed. Soon he drifted back into sleep.
****
Again the child woke. The room was empty of people. A clock ticked a steady beat, high on the wall above the door. Even though the room was dark, Aaron could make out every item he gazed upon… a chair, a draped screen, a radiator heater. This darkness was not the same intensity as the darkness he had been in. Unfamiliar voices came from beyond the door, voices that were low and slow. Aaron’s eyes fell shut again and he slept.
****
Aaron noticed the smell of bacon. He opened his eyes and pushed himself up. His head throbbed as he glanced around. Again he was alone in a dim room, but this room looked familiar. His stuffed toys were piled in the far corner and a picture of his mother and grandmother sat on the dresser next to him. Several “get well” cards stood atop his nightstand, obviously made by his fellow classmates. He felt an unfamiliar pain pinching his right hand, as his left hand automatically reached over to touch it.
The boy looked down and noticed a long tube securely taped to the top of his hand. It flowed over the edge of the bed and up to a hanging water bottle. The bottle dripped constantly. Had he seen that before?
He heard whistling coming from another room. “Mom?” Aaron’s voice was raspy and small. He laid back and rested on his flattened pillow. His head pounded and he felt exhausted.
Within moments, Aaron’s mother stood in the doorway. Her smile was contagious and the small boy sheepishly grinned back. She hurried to his side and placed her hand upon his forehead. She seemed satisfied that the fever had not returned and she stroked his cheek.
A fading rash was clearing from the boy’s face and the freckles that speckled across his nose and cheeks were beginning to return. His lips were still puffy and cracked, remnants of the severe fever he had endured. His auburn hair poked out in every direction, revealing that it hadn’t been combed for some time.
“I’m glad to see you’re awake again. You gave us quite a scare, little man.” Tears filled his mother’s eyes, as she thought of what his illness had almost cost her. “The doctor told me to call him the next time you woke up, so….” She started for the door. Turning back, she wiped her eyes and added, “Is there anything you need? Are you hungry? The doctor said you could have anything you wanted.”
“I think I am hungry.” Aaron sniffed the air again. “Do I smell bacon?”
“You do. I’ve got lots of bacon... and eggs. Let me get some for you. I’ll be right back.”
It wasn’t long before Aaron’s mother returned with a full plate of food.
Aaron nibbled on a crisp piece of bacon, while his mother sat on the bed next to him, unable to take her eyes away.
Finally, she stood. “You finish up. I’m going to go call the doctor… and then I’m calling grandma.”
The boy enjoyed the food but found it difficult to eat. Glancing at the eggs still sitting on the dish, he set the plate down on the nightstand and settled back into the warm covers. He was exhausted. Within minutes, he fell asleep.
****
“Aaron… grandma’s here and she has something for you,” his mother whispered.
Aaron’s eyes cracked open a moment, as he glanced about the room. They then closed again. Mother was standing at the foot of the bed. The lamp by the bed was on, casting a warm glow across the covers. Aaron wasn’t sure why he felt so dizzy and tired. He managed to open his eyes a second time. Near him, to his right, stood grandma and in her arms she held a small black puppy.
Aaron shook his head, even though the throbbing pain persisted. He forced his eyes open. The pup was mostly black, but had some brown and white markings on his belly and around his neck and face. New found energy surged through the boy’s body and he forced himself up. His eyes opened wider, as did his mouth.
“Ohhh… grandma. A puppy.” He looked up at his grandma. “Is he mine?”
“You bet he is and he’s anxious to meet you.” She handed the pup to the boy, being careful not to disturb the tube that fed into his hand.
The small dog seemed to think it was important to repeatedly lick the boy’s face.
Aaron had all he could handle, as he tried to hold the puppy back. The boy laughed at the animal’s persistence. “He’s so wiggly. What’s his name?”
Grandmother smiled and answered, “Whatever you want. You name him.”
“Humm....” Aaron finally got control of the pup with his left hand and stroked his soft fur with his right. What to name him? Aaron examined the puppy… from his sparkling eyes, down to his long pointy tail.
Mother noticed his tailward glance. “In a few days we can take him into the vet and have his tail snipped off if you want.”
Aaron looked up, “What’s wrong with his tail?”
“Well, these types of dogs usually get their tails shortened.”
“That would hurt, wouldn’t it?” Aaron looked back at the puppy. “Do we have to get it cut off?”
Mother glanced towards grandma and smiled. “No dear, of course not. He can keep his tail if you want him to. It doesn’t have to be snipped.” She seemed secretly proud that her child had that much concern over the little puppy’s feelings.
Aaron lifted the small pup. “You get to keep your tail, ‘Snips’, and I won’t let anybody hurt you… ever.” He kissed the small black head of the newly christened puppy and cuddled him close to his chest.
A buzzer sounded.
Grandma looked up. “That must be Dr. Pitts. I’ll get it.” She hurried out of the room.
Mother rounded the bed and lifted the puppy. “Okay, that’s enough for now. I’ll take ‘Snips’ back to the kitchen and put him in his box. He’ll be warm in there and he won’t fall off the bed. And as for you, young man, the doctor will be in any minute, hopefully to take that feeding tube out.” She hurried to the door, glancing back once more before leaving the room.
Aaron relaxed and waited as he heard the adults conferencing in the entry way. He was still groggy and his head felt heavy. He stared at the doorway and waited for the others to return. On either side of his door, hanging from the ceiling, were memories from his past.
In one corner was a solar system display. Each planet hung from a string, circling around an orange colored sun. He remembered when he and his mother removed the outermost planet, Pluto, when it was deemed unfit for planet-hood. It didn’t seem that long ago.
In the other corner of his room was a hanging plant. Mom called it a Spider Plant because the babies that hung down somewhat resembled spiders. Names were funny.
Aaron’s eyelids were growing heavier as he waited. What was taking so long? His head tipped back as the boy gave in.
He suddenly felt something tugging at his arm, ripping at its hair. With a grimace, Aaron opened his eyes. The two women were standing at the foot of the bed, as the doctor continued to remove the white tape that held the medication tube in place. He carefully slid out a long needle, bandaged the area and checked the boy’s pulse.
“Good.” The doctor nodded and smiled down at Aaron, then turned and addressed the boy’s mother. “He should begin to eat more regularly and he won’t sleep as much, now that the I-V is out. He’s a very lucky boy, Bonnie. I’m glad you didn’t wait to call me when that ear infection took a turn for the worse. Meningitis is not an illness you can fool around with.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small white tube, examining it for a moment. “Here’s an ointment for the blisters around his lips. Let me know if they don’t subside within a few days.”
Turning back to the boy, he tilted the child’s chin from left to right, directing it into the lamp’s light. “This rash may last another week or so. Try to keep him in bed until it’s gone.” The doctor removed his glasses and tucked them back into his jacket.
The adults left the child alone again and returned to the living room.
In a low voice, Dr. Pitts addressed the two ladies, “Aaron’s been through a dangerously high fever and it may have taken a toll on his mental abilities. You may expect to see…. changes… in his behavior. Perhaps he won’t be able to remember as well or maybe he’ll remember better. It may even bring on ADD, that is Attention Deficit Disorder, where he won’t be able to concentrate for long periods of time.” The doctor stared at them solemnly. “We just don’t know how this is going to affect him. But be aware that you will see some type of abnormal behavior. Let me know if you have any trouble coping with it and I’ll see if we can get you some pertinent information that might help you deal with the changes.” He finished and waited a moment. “Do you have any questions?”
Bonnie glanced towards the elderly woman, then back to the doctor. “Is there any chance Aaron could slip into another coma?” Her voice was soft and it trembled.
“No, no. The spinal fluid I drew last week showed that the infection is entirely gone. There’s little chance of a relapse.” He looked back and forth between the two ladies and waited a moment, then nodded. “Ok then.” The doctor gathered his belongings and headed for the front door. He stopped and turned to grandma. “Mrs. Anderson, you’ve finished all your antibiotics, haven’t you?”
Doris was surprised he had turned his attention on her. “Oh yes, certainly, a week ago.”
“Good. We wouldn’t want you coming down with any super bug now, would we.” With that, the doctor grabbed his coat and left. A gust of cold wind blew in through the front door, as he pulled it shut behind him.
Grandma glanced around the room. “Bonnie, the doctor forgot his hat.” Doris raced to the front window and peered out, hoping to draw the man’s attention.
Snatching up the tailored hat, mother headed out the door. She stopped the doctor at his car and thanked him again for his concern and help. She folded her arms tightly around herself, as she watched the man drive away.
Bonnie turned back to the house, as snow fell lightly through the treetops. She took a deep breath and looked up into the gray sky. Quietly she whispered, “Thank you dear Lord, for all your help. I don’t know how I could live without Aaron.” Bonnie hung her head and wiped away some unexpected tears. She seemed inclined to regain her composure before entering the house, and she cleared her throat several times.
The woman delayed her return further by standing on the covered porch and looking out over the yard, slowly being covered with a fine layer of fresh snow. The daffodils and tulips bent under the weight of the frozen moisture, yielding to its pressure. The flakes were thick and made clicking sounds as they fell, brushing against the newly formed leaves. The stillness became overwhelming and Bonnie pulled her sweater tight. She seemed nervous. Even though she had endured this crisis in her life, she felt there might be something else to come. The pain wasn’t over yet. With a few last gestures of appreciation to the Great Almighty, she turned and entered the house.
“Mom,” she called out. “It’s getting quite snowy out there. You’d better get going.”
Doris emerged from Aaron’s bedroom. “I noticed it was starting to come down again.” She looked out the front window. “I wonder if spring will ever come this year.” Grandma turned back to Aaron’s room. “Let me give this little guy in here just one more kiss and then I’ll be off.” She placed a dainty kiss atop the boy’s forehead and patted his cheek. “I’ll see you in a few days, sweetie. You be good and get better. Okay?”
Aaron nodded and smiled. “Love you grandma. Thanks again for the puppy.”
Doris and Bonnie walked through the kitchen in silence. Bonnie helped her mother on with her coat.
“Thanks mom, for bringing the puppy over. I knew Aaron would love him.” The two ladies looked down at the sleeping puppy. His legs kicked and his lip quivered as he dreamt. “And thanks for being there... you know.” Bonnie’s eyes watered and she hugged her mother tightly.
Doris patted her daughter on her back. “He looks good, honey. He’s going to be all right.” She nodded and smiled at her daughter, then kissed her on her cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow dear. Love you.” Grandma stepped carefully down the snowy back steps and swished the snow off the windows of her car. The engine started easily and she backed out of the driveway, waving to her daughter one last time before driving away.
Chapter Two
“Okay class, there’s the bell. Be sure and finish up your sketches tonight. I’ll call for them at the first of class tomorrow. Remember, your final grade depends a lot on these homework assignments,” Mr. Dilworth shouted over the scraping chairs, as the children pushed them back under the desks. He smiled, as a few children acknowledged that they had actually heard him. “Ah... spring. The kids don’t hear a word I say,” he murmured to himself.
The children hustled through the door, bumping into each other, pushing and shoving. Everyone talked at once. Everyone wanted to be the first one out. The classroom quieted as the majority of the students exited and the tension lifted. Mr. Dilworth exhaled with relief and sat back in his chair. There was less than a week to go before the end of another school year. He enjoyed teaching and he enjoyed children, but he enjoyed summers most of all.
A few children lingered and gathered their belongings.
The teacher leaned forward in his chair. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Aaron. Glad to have you back.”
Aaron turned towards the teacher. “Mr. Dilworth?” he whined, “Do I have to draw three faces by tomorrow as well?”
“No, Aaron… of course not. You were gone for how long… five or six weeks? You’ve missed a lot of instruction and I don’t expect too much. Just do your best and we’ll take everything into account. Okay?” He smiled at the boy and added, “We’ll have to see how you can make it up over the summer.”
The boy grinned back. “Okay. Good. See you tomorrow Mr. Dilworth.” Aaron turned and ran out the door. He was anxious to get home and see Snips. He hadn’t been away from the pup since he first got him, almost two weeks ago. As he ran down the street, he felt like he could fly. Looking at the trees above, Aaron noticed that their new spring leaves were all but in. Skipping along the cracked sidewalk, the shadows that cast down around him seemed to reach out and embrace him. Aaron could tell that something seemed different from the last time he came this way. He felt more in touch with the trees, more open to their ideas and their experiences. “Their what?” he thought. His pace slowed and he looked up.
The five pointed maple leaves tapped lightly upon each other in the warm breeze. They appeared to be waving hello to the young lad beneath them. The longer Aaron stared, the more mystified he became. The entire canopy seemed alive with movement and sound. No longer just leaves brushing against leaves, now it was an entire assembly of individual beings, welcoming Aaron back… back to the living. They all waved to him and congratulated him on his brave recovery.
Aaron smiled at the flickering foliage. He felt secure among them. A new feeling of friendship overcame him and he wondered why he had previously missed their attention. The boy waved back to the trees and turned.
He picked up his pace and ran the next block. He felt jubilant that he could communicate with the majestic beings. He hadn’t even thought of trying before. The shadows were still with him, though cast from different trees. He felt comfortable being with his new found friends. His mother always told him that he could use all the friends he could get. Since there wasn’t any other kids his age that lived in his neighborhood, these were as good a friends as any.
When he came to the end of that block, he stopped and looked back. The tree lined street seemed still. Aaron hesitated a moment and yelled, “Bye! See you tomorrow!” He waited a moment and smiled. The trees had heard him.
The final portion of his journey home was without shade. This particular block had become infected several years back with some dreaded tree disease, destroying dozens of the towering giants. Although the residents that lived along the street agreed they would all replant, so far, no one had. Even his own family had replaced only one tree in the front yard, but it was placed up close to the house. They did however, still have the giant cottonwood in the back yard, sheltering the small house with welcome shade from the summer’s heat.
Without the familiar branches to catch his upward gaze, Aaron found himself staring off into the clouds that dotted the light blue sky. The longer he looked, the more intrigued he became. Their shapes were so obvious and so perfect in form. He had seen clouds before, why were these so different? They fit together perfectly to form simple shapes that you needn’t be a child to find. He was amazed to see the extent of their efforts. Animals, objects and people’s faces were easy to see. Aaron slowed his pace and observed the wonders more fully.
Suddenly, Aaron got an idea. He reached down into his backpack and pulled out a clean sheet of paper.
“One face coming up,” he laughed. He then searched in his bag for a pencil. Pulling one out, he lifted his eyes to the sky and began sketching. A picture was beginning to form. Easily, effortlessly Aaron’s pencil glided over the paper.
“Hey stupid, what you doing?” someone called out.
Aaron stopped and turned when he heard a commotion behind him. Three junior high boys were approaching. He’d dealt with them before.
“Hey kid, you got any gum?” a second boy laughed, as he chewed a huge wad of the stuff himself. “No? Do you want any?” He opened his mouth and stretched out some of his wad towards Aaron, offering him a bite.
They all laughed, punching each other in fun.
“What ya doing? What ya looking at?” a third boy jeered.
“Nothing,” Aaron responded. He closed his backpack.
Two of the boys looked up to the sky. “I don’t see nothing. What was it, a bird?” one of them said. “You standing here watching birds? I’m gonna run home and get my bee-bee gun.” The boy laughed again and spun around to leave.
“No. I was just looking at the clouds,” Aaron confessed.
“Clouds? Wow. You must be a real smart kid, standing here looking up at the clouds.” The junior high student stuck out his tongue and made a stupid face, as he rolled his eyes, attempting to show what an idiot might look like.
Aaron pointed up to show them what he had seen, but as he did, one of the bigger boys grabbed his backpack.
“What’s in here? Got anything good?” He tossed things out as he spoke. “Got any money?” A gust of wind caught the papers as they dropped to the sidewalk and blew them down the street.
Aaron snatched at the bag, but the boys pulled it away. They tossed it back and forth between the three of them, while the younger boy jumped after it.
“Give me that!” Aaron yelled. “Give it to me!”
“Why? You gonna cry? Ohhh… cry baby, cry baby.” They howled in laughter.
Aaron jumped this way, then that, in attempts to retrieve his bag.
As the older boys tired of their fun, one boy finally gave in. “Go ahead and give it back.” He tilted his head towards Aaron and grinned.
“Oh, the baby wants his bag back. Boo-hoo-hoo. Well then… here.” The boy holding the bag dumped the remaining contents onto the sidewalk, spilling books and papers in all directions. Another round of laughter followed, before the bully threw the empty bag directly at Aaron, cutting his cheek with its zipper.
“Oops. Sorry kid,” The three punched each other as they turned to leave. “I mean… baby.”
They proceeded along their way laughing loudly, as one stopped to kick Aaron’s math book further down the sidewalk. Aaron watched as they kept kicking the book, again and again. Finally the boys, and the book, were gone.
Aaron wiped his bloody cheek where the zipper had hit. It burned as his tears dripped over it. When would he ever be able to defend himself against these bullies? He looked down at the broken books and at his homework papers blowing down the street. Why did they always pick on him?
Without any more self pity, he gathered what he could and stuffed everything back into his empty bag. He pulled it back onto his shoulder.
Before Aaron continued, he glanced up once more to the sky. It had turned dark and threatening. It didn’t matter. He didn’t feel like seeing happy clouds now anyway.
As Aaron rounded his yard, he heard Snips barking from inside the house. He forgot all about his pain and smiled to think someone actually wanted to be with him. Aaron quickened his pace and opened the screen door. Out bounced the young heeler-mix. He jumped up and down, trying desperately to kiss the boy. His short black coat shined as he wriggled this way and that. The pup whimpered and whined with excitement, as the boy reached down and scratched the dog’s back.
Aaron tossed his backpack onto the porch and led the pup down to the grass, waiting as the dog sniffed through every bush, adding his own urine scents to those of other animals. A few traces of snow still remained in the hidden areas beneath the dense foliage. The dog meticulously searched everywhere, constantly looking back at the boy to be sure he hadn’t been left alone.
“Hurry up, fella. I’m hungry.” Aaron was growing impatient.
A light rain began to sprinkle down. Aaron ran over and grabbed the reluctant animal, then turned and jumped up the steps, snatching his backpack as he ran into the house.
“Mom, I’m home!” the boy yelled, as he always did upon his return.
“I’m downstairs, honey. I’ll be up in a minute,” a voice drifted up from the basement.
Aaron went into the kitchen and over to the fridge. He pulled out a gallon of milk and set it on the table. He then poured a glass for himself and put a small amount into a bowl for Snips. Setting the dog on the table next to the bowl, he watched as the puppy’s tummy got bigger with each lap. Aaron sipped at his own milk and smiled. It was good to be home.
Finally, the bowl was empty. “Hey boy, did you like that?” Aaron placed the round puppy back into his box and watched as the dog circled several times before lying down. The small animal placed his head upon his tiny paws and closed his eyes. Before long, his chest was rising and falling in rhythm.
Aaron enjoyed watching the little black puppy, even when he was sleeping.
“I better get on those pictures,” he reminded himself. He looked over at his backpack. The art paper in there was ruined. He thought a moment, then hurried into his bedroom. Crouching next to his bed, he looked under. “I’m sure its here somewhere,” Aaron whispered to himself. He plopped himself flat onto the floor and began searching, pulling anything that was in his way, out into the open. An old pair of tennis shoes were evicted from their hiding place, as was a dusty old football. The boy swept the floor with his arm until it bumped into the item he was searching for… an old art pad, a gift from his grandfather.
Aaron pulled it out and blew the dust from its cover, then walked back to the kitchen. He flipped past the first few pages that had already been drawn upon and settled on the first clean sheet he came to.
“Now… what to draw.” Aaron glanced around for help. If only those clouds hadn’t gone away so quickly. He sat staring down at the empty paper, wishing for an idea of someone to draw. His eyes shifted, as they caught sight of the birthmark on the back of his hand. It closely resembled a bird in flight. A memory from another time crept forward in his mind. Someone else also had such a marking. Someone he knew. He pondered it a moment, but then tried to concentrate back on his homework.
A few minutes passed.
“I can’t think of who to draw,” he whispered down to the sleeping dog.
Suddenly he saw something move. Down by the box where the puppy laid, something caught his attention. Then it vanished. “Whoa, what was that?” He stood and stepped closer. He searched the area around the box, sure he had seen something. He leaned closer and peered around the cardboard walls. Was it a large insect… or maybe a mouse? Finding nothing, he returned to his chair. “Weird,” he decided, turning his attention back to his empty paper.
A few minutes passed when a slight scratching noise caught his attention. Aaron turned around. Looking back to where the puppy was still asleep, he noticed a strange outline in the pattern of the floor. Once again he approached the area, getting down on his hands and knees. As he studied the area, it definitely seemed to him to be a picture of an old woman’s face. The longer he stared at it, the better it filled in. Aaron got an idea and a half smile graced his face.
Hurrying back to the table, Aaron grabbed his tablet and pencil, returning a second later to the spot on the floor. By then, the face was gone.
“Shoot.” Aaron looked around the area carefully, but the image had completely disappeared. He reached down and felt the floor with his hand. Nothing.
Sitting back down at the table, Aaron began to draw what he remembered of the face, but couldn’t get the lines to work right. After several feeble attempts, he ripped out the page and smashed it into a ball. He then tossed it at the garbage can, missing the basket entirely. It bounced down to the floor. Aaron just stared at it.
“Maybe a cookie will help me think.”
Aaron stood and turned to the pantry, withdrawing several Oreos from their package. As he closed the closet door, he noticed a strange movement in the pattern of the wallpaper. The longer he stared at it, the more defined it became. Within a few inches of his nose, he saw what seemed to him to be another person’s face. Aaron reached over to the table for his art pad without looking back, in fear that if he turned away, the face would be gone like before. He positioned the tablet close to the image on the wall and began sketching out the features. His fingers controlled the pencil easier than he thought they could. He hurried with the task, hoping the image would remain still until he finished. As more lines were added, Aaron licked at his lips. He was deep in his concentration. Finally, he let his hand fall away from the paper.
“Done,” he happily declared.
He glanced over at his work. It was nice… for a kid. It surprised him how easily he had drawn it. He smiled and looked back at the wall, barely in time to see the face fade back into the wallpaper pattern.
“What on earth?” he whispered. He had never experienced anything like that before. He touched the area. Had he imagined what just happened?
“Sorry I took so long, dear. I was folding clothes,” mother explained, as she carried a basket of clean laundry up the stairs.
Aaron didn’t hear her.
She set the basket on a chair and noticed her son with his nose to the wall. She stepped up behind him. “What are you doing?”
The boy spun around. “Oh, mom… you wouldn’t believe what just happened.”
“What happened to your cheek?” She reached over and examined the wound.
“Oh nothing, mom. Just some boys.”
“What boys? What did they do?” She hurried out the kitchen door and returned moments later with a bottle of peroxide and a washcloth. As she unscrewed the cap, she directed her glare back to Aaron. “I’m waiting.”
Aaron reached for his milk, but decided he had better answer her question first. “They were just fooling around. They grabbed my backpack and when they gave it back to me, it hit me on the cheek. That’s all.”
“Who were these boys? Do you know them?” She dabbed the wet cloth on his fresh cut, causing it to bubble.
“Ouch, that hurts.” Aaron jerked back.
“It needs to be cleaned. Now be still.” Carefully she wiped away the crusty blood. “There, that looks better. Now tell me, who did this?”
“I don’t know their names, mom. They’re the kids in junior high. The three of ‘em.”
“The same boys that bothered you before?”
“Yeah.”
“I wish these kids around here would mind their own business and leave everyone else alone. Why can’t they pick on someone their own age? Tell you what… tomorrow I’ll pick you up from school and we’ll watch for these boys. Then we’ll follow them home and I’ll have a long talk with their parents. How’s that sound?”
Aaron hung his head. “I don’t know, mom. That’ll just make things worse.” Aaron wanted to fight his own battles, but it seemed his mother had a hard time letting him.
Bonnie rinsed out the washcloth and placed an ice cube inside it. “Here.” She handed him the ice pack. “Put this on your cheek. It’ll take the swelling down.”
Aaron held the rag to his face. He swallowed a gulp of milk and ate one of the cookies. He could feel his mother staring at him. “I’ll handle it, mom. Okay?”
“Okay, fine. But remember, I’m always here if you need me.” She messed up the boy’s hair and kissed his forehead. “By the way, I went over to the principal’s office today and he told me you could catch up on anything you missed, over the summer. With only a few days left of school, there isn’t enough time to get everything in. He told me he would send some books home with the assignments and I could go through them with you. How does that sound?”
Aaron shoved two more cookies into his mouth and nodded his acceptance.
As Bonnie watched him attempt to chew the mouthful of sweets, she shook her head, turned and picked up the laundry basket. “I’ll be in my bedroom if you need me.” She whistled a light tune as she left.
Aaron took his glass to the sink and wondered where he might find the next face to draw. He set his cup on the counter and looked around. The toaster had a high shine surface that reflected Aaron’s own image.
“That’s it. I’ll draw me.” He hurried to the table and retrieved his art pad.
Try as he would, his fingers fumbled with the pencil. This attempt at drawing his own face was a long difficult journey. Why had the other one been so easy?
He finished, setting the tablet and pencil down. Aaron stared at the face he had drawn and admitted, though it didn’t look like him, it wasn’t too bad. But it wasn’t anything like the last drawing. That last picture slid onto his page, this one had to be pried out. He leaned back on a chair and wondered what else he might find to eat.
Bonnie returned with the empty laundry basket. She glanced down at the table and noticed the drawing.
“What are you up to?” she asked. “Looking through Grandpa’s drawings?”
Aaron looked up. “Who do you think this looks like, mom?” he asked, as he nodded at the picture he just recently completed.
She came around to his side of the table and looked at the drawing. “Your grandfather was a very talented man. Look at the fun expression on that boy’s face.” She stopped for a moment and glanced back at her son. “If I didn’t know better, I would say that drawing was of you, but then… it couldn’t be. Grandpa died when you were only four and this boy looks to be about nine or ten, at least.”
Aaron’s smile was huge. “Haaa!” He tossed about in the chair, as his hands played a quick drum roll on the edge of the table.
“What?” his mother finally asked.
“Grandpa didn’t draw this. I did. I drew it.” His excitement overflowed and he jumped around in his seat.
Bonnie looked back at the picture, then back at Aaron. She smiled as well. “You drew this?”
He nodded.
“And is it you?”
“Yup, it’s me. How’d you guess it was me?”
She looked at it again. The boy in the drawing even had a cut on his cheek, except it was on the wrong side of his face. Bonnie didn’t know what to say. Shaking her head, she finally said, “You’ve got a fantastic art teacher.”
“Yeah, he’s great. He gave us an assignment to draw three faces. They’re due tomorrow. He said I didn’t need three because I was sick, but I thought I’d try to do three anyways.”
“Do you have any others?”
“Just one other one… so far.” He flipped back one page to the face from the wallpaper. It was even better. A young girl, perhaps sixteen years of age. “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”
Bonnie shook her head in disbelief. “Wow. That’s really good, Aaron. Good job.”
The boy stood and held his shoulders back further than normal. “They’re not too bad.”
She turned back another page. This drawing reeked with simplicity. A child’s attempt entirely… what could be expected from a ten year old. She glanced at the boy.
“I drew that one a long time ago.” Aaron confessed. He wished she hadn’t gone that far back in the tablet. He’d have to rip that page out.
“How old were you when you drew this?”
“It was about... oh, a couple of months ago when we first got the assignment, before I got sick.” He reached for his backpack. “I don’t think I’ll turn that one in.” He ambled out of the kitchen and switched on the television as he crossed the living room. He yelled back, “Oh, mom, I think we have a mouse. I saw one in the kitchen.”
She only half heard what the boy had said. One more page back and she came to a familiar drawing that her father had done. His talent was unmistakable. Beautiful lines that flowed with perfection. Balance and shading in exact proportions.
She smiled as she remembered his soft touch and gentle nature. How she missed him. Six years gone and yet... it seemed like only yesterday that he died.
Bonnie finished looking through the art book. A dozen or so drawings from her father took her down the path of memories she hadn’t visited in a long time. Only when she set the book down did she begin to question the time period of the improvement on Aaron’s drawings.
Could a high fever alter the brain to gain such unprecedented talent that was missing before? Obviously it could. The doctor warned her there would be changes.
Without further delay, Bonnie started dinner.
Chapter Three
Aaron felt wonderful as he trotted down the rain dampened street the next morning. He not only finished the assignment of the three faces, he had extras. The rain washed away any remaining snow and the air smelled fresh and crisp. It was a fantastic morning.
The first half of the day went by slowly. Aaron hadn’t completed much else besides art homework the previous evening. His math and English assignments were completely forgotten and his morning teachers chided him for his negligence. It didn’t matter to Aaron. He finally found something he could excel in and he loved it.
The final class of the day got underway with Mr. Dilworth calling roll. Nervous about displaying his work, Aaron looked around to see what others brought.
“Okay, class. I see many of you are bringing out your assignments. What I want you to do is to write your name on the back of your pictures and send them forward. We’ll go through them one by one without anyone knowing who drew what.”
Papers shuffled as the students obediently passed their pictures forward. Before long, a substantial pile rested on the teacher’s desk. Mr. Dilworth picked up the first drawing and nodded.
“This is very nice.” He held it high so the children could see the artwork. “Notice the light lines and casual features.” He seemed impressed with the student’s efforts. Fourth grade is a year that many children mature in muscle control. They work on mastering the techniques of writing and taking command of their hand movements. With continued structure and guidance, each one of these kids could make a name for themselves in the world of art. Mr. Dilworth displayed the pictures and praised each work, no matter what sort of ability prevailed.
He came to Aaron’s first piece… and stopped.
He had spoken so eloquently of the other drawings, that when he got to this picture, he was speechless. He knew the ability of this boy and these pictures did not represent it. They were far beyond the talents of any such student, perhaps even beyond his own. The child had obviously taken these from someone he knew and was trying to pawn them off as his own work. The teacher decided not to display the next few pictures, for it would only discourage the other students who had put forth a sincere effort. He did however decide he should say something, anything, about the six pictures and then go on.
“And these drawings are nice as well.” He set the selected drawings to the side and went on with the rest.
The class ended on a humorous note, as Mr. Dilworth retrieved pictures that he had kept from last September, when the class first commenced. He held up some early efforts. Stick figures graced many pages and the teacher commented on the interesting looking people who lived back then. The children laughed and laughed. The past year had been triumphant in Mr. Dilworth’s eyes. He had succeeded in bringing real art to these kids.
The bell sounded and the students shuffled out the door with as much commotion as they had the day before. But today the noise fell hard on Mr. Dilworth’s nerves.
He wasn’t too concerned when a student tried, but couldn’t draw. What he detested was someone who pretended to be something he wasn’t.
“Aaron,” the teacher called out, “please see me before you leave.” His head began to pound as he felt one of his migraine headaches coming on. The constant noise in the classroom forced the teacher to his seat. There he sat, rubbing his forehead, staring at Aaron’s drawings. His head grew tighter and tighter, threatening to explode.
The boy approached and stood beside the large wooden desk. Aaron wondered why he hadn’t seen his drawings lifted for the class review. As he waited, he felt uneasy about disturbing his teacher. The man appeared to be deep in thought about something.
As the room finally quieted, Mr. Dilworth lifted his head.
“Oh, Aaron, there you are. I wanted to ask you how you were feeling today.”
“Pretty good.” Aaron scratched at a scab on his arm.
The teacher watched the last of his students leave. Aaron stood at the desk alone.
“Let’s talk about these pictures you drew.” The teacher displayed the boy’s drawings until they almost covered his desk. Six in all. Each unique. Each a masterpiece. Each one outshining his own capabilities. Mr. Dilworth began tapping his fingers against the desk. “These are simply fantastic, Aaron. How did you ever get the ideas for such interesting expressions?”
The boy shrugged, afraid to explain the strange circumstances that led to his drawings. His teacher probably wouldn’t understand.
“Your mother once mentioned that your grandfather was a gifted artist. Perhaps these might be your grandfather’s drawings?” His fingers tapped louder and faster.
Aaron shook his head. “No. He was really good, but these are my drawings.” It suddenly occurred to the boy that his teacher was upset. He stepped back a little from the desk.
“Then explain to me how you drew them. How you conceived them. Would you do that for me?” The man’s voice raised and he squinted at the boy.
Aaron’s heart pounded in his chest. He swallowed hard and tried to speak. He took another step back. He cleared his throat several times before attempting to answer. Quietly he began, “I was at home, in the kitchen and I saw this one in the wallpaper.” He pointed to the first drawing. “I just copied it down.” Aaron then pointed to the self-portrait. “This one is me, when I looked in the toaster and ...”
“You found your subjects on the kitchen wall and in the toaster? And you simply copied them down?” Mr. Dilworth stared at the boy. “Do you expect me to believe that?” the teacher shouted.
Aaron’s eyes filled with tears as he nodded. He stepped back again.
The teacher’s strumming hand came down hard, slapping the desk. The sting ran up his arm and pierced his mind, snapping it back to reality. It suddenly dawned on him that the child, standing just a few feet away, was terrified. Mr. Dilworth felt his anger drain away and a great sense of embarrassment take its place. He diverted his eyes back down to the desk and began rubbing his temples. The pounding was tremendous. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead. He leaned back and closed his eyes.
Aaron watched cautiously as the man slowed his breathing and gained control.
Before long, Mr. Dilworth sat up and rubbed away the moisture along the crest of his forehead. He pressed his hands together and wrung out the last of his anger.
He looked back at the boy and spoke softly, “I am so sorry, Aaron, for my outburst.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I am sorry.” The teacher hung his head in shame. “I get these… headaches.”
Aaron relaxed slightly. Sometimes his mother got headaches too.
The teacher continued, “I’ve never seen someone your age draw like this before.” He looked back to the desk and glanced once more at each drawing. Softly he commented, “I wish I had drawn them.”
The boy smiled as he finally understood his teacher’s behavior. “Do you want me to teach you how?”
Mr. Dilworth looked up and his mouth hung open. He jumped from his desk and scurried to the cupboard, calling back “I’ll get some paper.”
Aaron knew he had the ability to impress his teacher, whether he drew a face that was hidden or one that was real. He considered drawing the teacher himself, but knew it would be easier if he could just find someone hidden around the classroom. Those types of drawings were quicker and always appeared so much nicer.
With the pad of paper the teacher had given him, he began his search. He walked around the room slowly, only a few feet from the wall. He never knew where someone might be hiding. He paced himself, as he peered into each and every crevice.
“You gotta look real close if you’re gonna find one. Sometimes they aren’t that easy to find,” Aaron explained, as he thoroughly searched the brick wall. He took a deep breath and continued looking.
Mr. Dilworth remained at his desk, hoping not to interfere. He sat quietly nibbling on his thumbnail. He watched the boy with great concern.
The seconds ticked by on the large round clock that hung on the wall. As the minutes mounted, it became evident that nothing was going to come of this foolish hunt and Mr. Dilworth turned in his chair. He began straightening the children’s papers back into a pile.
Aaron grew nervous and glanced back at his teacher, aware he had lost the man’s attention. Hoping to appease the man’s desire to learn about his new found talent, Aaron continued his search.
A clicking sound came from the intercom system and a scratchy voice followed, “Mr. Dilworth. Could you come down to the office for a moment please. Mr. Dilworth.”
The both looked up at the wooden box that hung in the corner of the room and Mr. Dilworth stood. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Go ahead and take your time, but don’t leave. I still want to talk to you about this.”
Aaron nodded and the teacher left the room.
The minutes passed and the room became very quiet. Aaron stopped his search. He sat in a chair that was close by and hung his head. What if he wouldn’t be able to perform for the man? What if he couldn’t find another face? A tear dripped from his eye as he envisioned his impending punishment. He hated to disappoint people, especially grownups.
The seconds ticked by loudly, as they counted down the time until his teacher would return. In another area of the school, a door shut firmly and echoed in the distance. Footsteps grew louder in the hallway and finally stopped, directly in the doorframe of his classroom.