by Jeff Strand
Each morning, he woke up thinking that perhaps he should show himself, that maybe Steamspell was wrong, that maybe he’d been taken in and cared for. Each night, he went to bed knowing that Steamspell was absolutely right, that he’d be executed as a freak if he was discovered.
When his clothes fell apart in tatters, he fashioned his own clothing out of leaves. When that was a rather humiliating failure, he walked around naked, natural, and free for a couple of days until he stole some ill-fitting clothes from a laundry line.
Occasionally he had fantasies about burning down the orphanage, but mostly he didn’t think about it. He thought about his mother and father all the time, despite his best efforts to put them out of his mind because it made him feel sad and lonely.
One day as he walked through the forest, eating some berries he’d gathered earlier that morning, he thought that it might be his seventh birthday.
He wanted to celebrate. Have a great big party with cake (chocolate), balloons (red and green), presents (plentiful), and candles (seven). Perhaps a clown who would juggle. A magician who’d make the clown disappear. Pony rides. Fireworks.
“It’s going to be the best birthday of all time,” he said out loud. Nathan spoke out loud at least once a day, despite there being nobody else around, to be sure that he wouldn’t forget how to talk.
The forest did not contain much in the way of cake mix. If he wanted to celebrate his birthday properly, he’d have to venture out and steal some supplies.
He walked until evening, but didn’t walk far enough to emerge from the woods. Disappointed, he curled up next to a tree and went to sleep.
The next day he woke up with a strange feeling that this was his seventh birthday, and that yesterday he’d simply been overly excited. Yes, today he would celebrate. All of the forest creatures would be jealous of his grand birthday party.
As he resumed walking toward what he hoped was the edge of the forest, Nathan decided that if he hadn’t found any theft-worthy birthday supplies by the time it started to get dark, he’d improvise. Tiny branches would serve as candles. A pile of mud would be his cake, though he would not consume it. He would wrap a rock in leaves and pretend to be delighted when he opened his gift.
But improvisation turned out to be unnecessary, and his heart leapt with joy as he emerged from the forest into somebody’s backyard. There were no fruit-bearing trees or food on a grill or spare clothes hanging from a line, but Nathan was certain that if he did a bit of exploration, he’d find something to make his birthday a happy one.
It was a nice little one-story house. White and freshly painted, with a colorful flower garden, bright green grass, and a welcoming environment, despite the lack of any visible signs welcoming him.
There were no toys. Sometimes these homes had toys, and Nathan would occasionally jump on a trampoline, or dig in a sandbox, or wobble back and forth on a giant plastic bumblebee. This was always fun, although less fun than it would have been if he weren’t so scared of being caught.
But he’d never been caught. Yes, he’d been chased away three or four times, but nobody ever knew that he was a fanged monster living in their woods. They couldn’t have suspected that, or they would have sent people into the forest to hunt him. No, they just thought he was a mischievous little boy from another village, trying to steal playtime with another child’s toys.
He walked through the yard toward the house, moving on his tiptoes even though such a thing was really not necessary on the soft grass. He hoped that if they had a dog that it was a small friendly one that would lick his hand and nip at his feet, and not a large one that would try to bite his thighs off.
Nathan walked right up next to the house. The window, decorated with a plotted plant on each side of the sill, was very inviting. He never, ever, ever looked into windows—that was a good way to get caught—but it was his birthday, so why shouldn’t he peek into a window if he wanted?
He raised himself on his tiptoes and looked inside.
The house was very tidy. There was a long couch and an oval-shaped rug, and a bookcase that seemed like it had thousands of books. There was a painting of a vast mountain range on the wall. The whole place had a warm, happy feel. He was sure that nobody was ever beaten in there.
Nathan thought that he could quite happily live in this house.
He continued to stare inside, transfixed.
Was that food? Yes, right there on a plate on a table next to the couch: a great big sandwich. He didn’t know what kind of sandwich it was (all he could see for certain was the lettuce) but his mouth began to water.
Why was the sandwich just sitting there? Who would abandon such a glorious thing?
Would they hear him if he broke the window?
He was pretty sure they would.
What if he broke it quickly, and climbed inside and stole the amazing sandwich before they had a chance to react? Maybe the people who lived in this house kept their shotgun in an inconvenient location.
It might be worth getting shot to have a bite of the sandwich.
He gazed at the food, not realizing that his fingernails were scraping against the glass, until—
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Nathan yelped. A woman, quite a bit older than his mother had been when she died, stood right next to him. He hadn’t even noticed her sneaking up on him. He turned back toward the safety of the forest, but she grabbed his arm and wouldn’t let go as he tugged and tugged.
“Stop it!” she demanded.
Nathan pulled so hard he thought that his arm might pop right off, which would make it more difficult to climb trees, but he couldn’t get away. “Let me go!” he shouted.
Another woman came around the house into the backyard. She looked a lot like the first woman, though the first woman had black hair and this woman’s hair was brown. She looked very surprised by what was happening as she ran over to them. “Hey!”
“Let me go! Let me go! I didn’t do anything!”
“Just calm down,” said the first woman, not letting go of his arm. “I’m not going to hurt you!”
“Please let me go!”
“Settle down and I’ll let you go!”
Nathan gave one last unsuccessful tug, and then decided to stop struggling. Neither woman was holding a shotgun. Maybe they weren’t going to kill him. Or maybe they were going to kill him in a much slower manner. He wished he had more information.
They all stood in silence for a long moment. Nathan was breathing heavy and tried to force himself to relax.
“Who are you?” the black-haired woman asked.
Nathan didn’t respond.
The second woman looked at the first. “Is he feral?”
“I don’t know if he’s feral, but he’s filthy!” She inhaled and scowled. “Goodness, you really stink. I’ve never smelled such a thing. Where did you come from?”
“Please let me go.” They didn’t seem to have noticed his teeth while he was screaming, but now that things had calmed a bit he spoke with his head down, keeping his mouth mostly closed, just the way he’d been taught.
“We can’t do that until we understand what’s going on. Where are your parents?”
“They’re dead.”
“Who takes care of you?”
“Nobody.”
“Nobody? A boy of your age? Why, that’s not…actually, from the looks of you, it is possible! Oh, you poor little darling!” The woman threw her arms around him, holding him tight. She was much taller than Nathan and he thought she might be suffocating him, but it was still the best feeling he’d had in an entire year.
“Where have you been staying?” asked the other woman.
“The forest.”
“Goodness gracious! Assuming that your story isn’t a shameful lie, what a remarkable young boy you must be! Would you like something to eat? We’ve made sandwiches.”
“Oh, yes!”
Nathan didn’t let his guard down, but he allowed the women to lead him ins
ide the house. He’d known that he was hungry before, but now, with a fine meal so close, he was so ravenous that he thought he might follow these women even if they said “Surprise! There’s your meal on the nose of a great white shark!”
“What’s your name?” asked the woman with black hair, as they stepped into the kitchen.
“Nathan.”
“Pleased to meet you, Nathan. My name is Penny. This is my sister Mary.”
“Hello,” said Mary. “I’ll go get my sandwich from the living room and give it to you, since Penny has already taken a bite out of hers. Not that it matters. Right now you don’t look like a boy who is overly worried about germs.”
At this point, Penny could have spat out half of her guts between two slices of bread and Nathan would have eaten it, though he did not share this information.
Mary left the kitchen. Penny ran her index finger across Nathan’s forehead and clucked her tongue. “I never knew so much dirt could cling to a single person. You’re worthy of scientific exploration. And I don’t believe I’ve ever seen hair so desperately in need of cutting. I count three, four, five, six…at least seven twigs twisted into your hair. How long have you been on your own?”
“A year.”
“A year? That absolutely boggles my mind, though I guess the evidence stands before me.”
Nathan was mildly offended by this, since he thought he’d done an excellent job with the bathing process, but he didn’t protest. He couldn’t say for certain how he smelled, as he’d grown accustomed to his own aroma.
Mary returned with the plate, which she set on the counter next to where Nathan stood. She gave him an encouraging nod, and Nathan picked up the sandwich and took an enormous bite.
Delicious!
Heavenly!
Beyond bliss!
Nathan was so focused on this masterpiece of a sandwich that it wasn’t until he had but one bite left that he realized that he’d forgotten about hiding his teeth.
Had they noticed?
He looked at Penny, then at Mary. Neither of them were recoiling.
He swallowed.
“What would you like to drink?” Penny asked.
“I have a choice?”
Penny opened the refrigerator and peered inside. “We have milk and apple juice, or you can have water.”
“Apple juice, please.”
Penny took the jar out of the refrigerator. Nathan ate the last bite of his sandwich as she set it on the counter and took down a glass.
“You were certainly hungry,” said Mary.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oooh, and polite! I didn’t expect that from a filthy feral boy. Would you like another sandwich?”
Nathan gave her a vigorous nod.
The three of them stood in the kitchen as Nathan ate two-and-a-half sandwiches and drank three full glasses of apple juice. If they were going to murder him, Nathan figured that they would have gotten around to it by now, so he relaxed.
“We have to figure out what do with you,” said Penny. “But the first thing we have to do is clean you up.”
She used very hot water and had a painfully firm grip on the sponge, but it felt like torture with a purpose, as opposed to the mindless beatings of Bernard Steamspell. Penny washed his face and his ears and between his toes and scrubbed until he felt like he might not have any skin left, though he could clearly see that he did, and no veins had come loose. When she’d removed the dirt from every visible part of him, she gave him the sponge and left the bathroom so he could finish the job.
What a wonderful day this had been!
He looked at himself in the mirror and grinned.
Then he frowned. He might be clean from head to toe, but he was still a monster.
Penny and Mary were sitting on the living room couch, and smiled at him as he walked in. He didn’t smile back.
“Do you feel better?” Penny asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. So, Nathan, we’ve been wondering about something. Would you mind so terribly if we took a closer look at your teeth?”
SEVEN
Nathan wanted to cry. This was the end of their kindness. Should he run now, before they could shoot him or throw things at him, or should he keep his mouth tightly closed in hopes of receiving another hour or two of generous behavior?
He did neither.
Instead, he opened his mouth.
Not all at once. First he gradually lifted his upper lip, exposing the top row of teeth a fraction of a millimeter at a time. Then he exposed the lower row. Penny and Mary watched him, their faces betraying no emotion.
With his teeth fully revealed to the sisters, Nathan just stood there, his ears ringing and his stomach hurting.
Finally, Penny spoke: “Goodness…”
“What happened?” asked Mary. “Did somebody do that to you?”
Nathan shook his head. “I was born this way.”
“Goodness…” Penny repeated.
“We could tell that there was something unusual about them,” said Mary, “but we never suspected this.”
“Are you frightened?” Nathan asked.
Mary laughed. “Of a little boy like you who came to us starving and covered in mud?”
“That’s not what I meant. I don’t want you to be scared, I just thought that you might be, is all.”
“No, we’re not scared,” said Penny. “Mystified, but not scared. May we see them closer?”
Nathan walked over to the couch and opened his mouth wide. He had to trust them. They’d treated him so nicely. They couldn’t reject him now, could they?
“Incredible,” said Mary. “It’s not just the front ones. I would think that it would be difficult to chew with that kind of arrangement, although I suppose if you never knew differently it wouldn’t be such a challenge.”
“May I touch them?” Penny asked.
Nathan nodded.
“And do you promise not to bite me while I satisfy my curiosity?”
Nathan nodded again.
Penny put the tip of her index finger into his mouth and tapped it against one of his front teeth. She winced and withdrew her finger. “Ow. They’re as sharp as they look.”
“I’m sorry,” said Nathan.
“Oh, it’s not your fault. We should be the ones to apologize. We’re gawking, and that’s impolite. You may close your mouth now.”
Nathan closed his mouth.
“Well, Nathan, you’ve certainly made it an interesting day for us. I suppose we’ll need to take you to whomever it is that deals with lost little boys, but I’m sure it’s been a tiring day for you, and you don’t want to sit and watch adults do a lot of paperwork on your behalf. Would you like to stay with us until tomorrow morning?”
“Yes, I would,” said Nathan, almost weeping with relief. “I really would.”
They all sat together on the couch, and Nathan told them about his adventures and tragedies. They looked sorrowful as he talked about the death of his parents, and angry as he told them about life at the orphanage, and astonished as he spoke of living alone in the forest. (They believed the forest part of his story in general, but assumed that it actually took place over a much shorter timeframe than what Nathan claimed. After all, young boys were prone to exaggeration.)
“What did you say the other boys called you?” Penny asked.
Nathan lowered his head. “Fangboy.”
“What a ridiculous nickname. Fangs are the teeth on the upper corners. You’d think that if they were going to make your life miserable, they could at least do it accurately.”
“You’re not going to send me back there, are you?” Nathan asked.
“Absolutely not. We won’t lie and say that we know exactly what’s to become of you, but I promise you will never have to go back to that dreadful place ever again.”
“Thank you.”
Mary had been trying unsuccessfully for the past twenty-five seconds to remove a twig from Nathan’s hair, and finally gave up. “
I give very poor haircuts,” she said, “but they’re better than what you’ve got. Should I give it a try?”
“Yes, please.”
When they were finished, Nathan had to admit that Mary was right, it was a bad haircut, uneven and lacking the minimum amount of style to even satisfy a seven-year-old boy. Still, it no longer itched, and he was happy she’d done it, even with her constant jokes about how she expected to find a bird’s nest contained therein.
They sat on the couch and talked some more.
“Have your husbands died?” Nathan asked.
Penny laughed. “I was engaged once, over twenty years ago, when I was only eighteen. We were going to get married and have six children, three boys and three girls. But he left me at the altar and broke my heart.”
“Didn’t any other men want you?” As soon as Nathan blurted that out, he realized how horrible it sounded. Penny laughed again before he could apologize.
“Four other men have asked me to marry them during my life. I turned them all down. One was a drunkard, one was a liar, one was inadequately intelligent, and one was…” She looked a bit sad. “One was a mistake.”
“Have five men asked to marry you?” Nathan asked Mary.
Penny didn’t let Mary answer. “My sister is a beautiful woman who only wishes to marry another beautiful woman.”
Nathan raised an eyebrow. “That’s an odd sort of thing.”
“I suppose it can be to some people. Not that it matters. Mary is so unspeakably picky that she will never find a mate that meets her standards, and so she is unfortunate enough to live with me.” Penny gave Mary a playful swat on the shoulder.
Mary smiled. “She speaks the truth. But sisters get along better than any husband and wife, so why not?”
After talking some more, they had a delicious dinner of pork roast, carrots, and rye bread. Nathan had formerly liked neither carrots nor rye bread, but he thoroughly enjoyed these. They ate, talked and laughed. Then Penny and Mary let Nathan read a book about a loving rabbit while they did the dishes.