by Ray Garton
It killed Lyssa.
That’s been the hardest part of all to get over. I still haven’t. I never will. When I found out Lyssa was dead, I was sorry Keith’s bullet hadn’t killed me.
It killed Mr. Granger, too. The official cause was a heart attack, but I know better. He knew too much. I felt like that was my fault. If I hadn’t involved him –
But then, this was ALL my fault. I involved Lyssa, I involved Mr. Granger, I involved Reverend Tomlin. This was all my fault.
While I was in the hospital, my social worker, Annie Kintner, came to see me.
“I want to be transferred to another home,” I told her.
“That’s understandable. I’m going to see what I can do, okay?”
“You promise?”
“I promise I’ll try, but I can’t promise results, Ryan, you know that.”
“I want a new place by the time I get out of the hospital.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Annie said.
But she hadn’t seen well enough, because when I got out of the hospital, I was brought back here to the Preston house. It was unrecognizable, though. It had been completely remodeled inside. There was also an SUV parked in the driveway.
“And look at this, Ryan,” Marie said as she wheeled my chair to the stairs. A chair-lift had been installed on the staircase. “There’s one on the basement stairs, too. The entire house has been made handicapped-friendly. Isn’t that nice? Dr. Sempris and her colleagues did this especially for you. You’re going to be our only foster child, Ryan. For awhile, anyway. Well, you and ... and Maddy, of course.” She leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “Things will be okay, I promise.”
The day after I got home from the hospital, one of the black Lexus sedans came to the house and the white-haired woman with glasses, Dr. Sempris, came in. She asked to see me in the dining room. Marie set us up with coffee and apple pie.
“I’m Dr. Sempris, Ryan, and I’m going to explain the situation to you,” she said. “I know you want to be transfered out of this house, but Maddy wants you to stay.”
“Maddy wants me to stay?” I said.
“Yes, Maddy. The little girl. She likes you. She wants you to stay and she wants you to come visit her.”
“No way. I will not listen to that thing anymore. I won’t – “
”You won’t have to. It will leave you alone if you will agree to visit with Maddy for awhile every day.”
“You’re kidding, right?” I really didn’t believe her. It sounded like some kind of trick.
“I’m not. I’ll be honest, Ryan, it’s in our best interest to keep Maddy as happy and healthy as possible. She likes you. The presence will leave you alone during these periods. You have my guarantee.”
“That means I have to stay here.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want to stay here.”
“I think we can come to an understanding. In exchange for your daily visits with Maddy, Ryan, we are prepared to set you up with a top-of-the-line computer, with all the accessories. We will find a writer to work with you, to tutor you in writing. And lastly, I will personally set you up with a New York literary agent who will turn you into the writer you’ve always wanted to be. And on top of all that, you get to stay here as long as you like, and you and Maddy will be the only ones here, so Marie and Hank can give you their full attention.”
“What’s the alternative?” I said.
“There is no alternative, Ryan,” Dr. Sempris said. “Do you understand?”
“No alternative?”
The corners of Dr. Sempris’s mouth curled up in a cold approximation of a smile. “Let’s be honest with each other, Mr. Kettering. You are alive right now only by accident. I think you understand that. It was an accident that very easily could be rectified, if the presence saw fit to do so. We are offering you an opportunity to be useful for us, and in return, we shall be useful to you.”
Like I said before, foster care is like playing Russian roulette. Sometimes the hammer clicks and you’re fine, and sometimes you take a bullet to the brain.
I’ve taken enough bullets lately.
I visit with Maddy every day. Sometimes we just talk, and other times we play with her dolls together. Sometimes we go to the rec room and watch TV or play video games.
The thing has never spoken up once. I know it’s there, and that really bothered me for awhile, at first. But the longer I went without hearing its voice, the easier it was not to think about it while I was with Maddy.
She really is a sweet, good-natured girl. She doesn’t talk about the thing, or where she goes when it comes forward. She doesn’t complain.
It’s a great place to live, and Marie was right – the whole house had been made handicapped-friendly. There were even rails on the hot tub that allowed me to lower myself in and pull myself out.
They come every few weeks, the people Marie had called the “dentist people,” and they spend hours in Maddy’s bedroom with her. Fortunately, they usually come while I’m in school so I don’t have to see them. They were still here when Marie drove me home from school one day a couple weeks ago. I usually try to avoid them, but I caught Dr. Sempris in the downstairs hallway.
“Are things going well, Ryan?” she said.
“Yes. Things are fine.”
“You’re happy?”
“Yes, I’m happy.”
“You’re not smiling.”
“I’m sorry, but as happy as I am, I don’t smile that much anymore.”
“You’ve had no problem with the presence?”
The presence. For a few seconds, I didn’t know what she was talking about. I never thought of it of as the presence. And I guess I just don’t think about it that much anymore, period.
“No,” I said, “I haven’t.”
She smiled and said, “That’s good. I’m glad.”
I took a couple folded-together sheets of paper from my back pocket and handed them over to Dr. Sempris.
“What’s this?” she said.
“It’s a list of all the movies I want on DVD. Widescreen only, no full-frames.”
She unfolded the pages and her eyes scanned the columns of titles. When she looked at me, her right eyebrow arched high above her eye. “I don’t think this will be a problem, Ryan.”
“Good,” I said. “Thank you.” I turned and went upstairs to my room.
My literary agent, Liz Rosenstein, has read my short stories and says I’m good. She’s encouraging me to write a novel about a character in one of my stories. She’s going to send a writer to work with me until I get the hang of writing a novel. She thinks she can make a big splash with me as some kind of boy genius.
Marie and Hank remain the same. Except for one thing – Marie doesn’t go to church anymore.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2004 by Ray Garton
Cover design by Open Road Integrated Media
ISBN 978-1-4976-2744-4
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
345 Hudson Street
New York, NY 10014
www.openroadmedia.com
RAY GARTON
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