The Wisherman

by Danielle

  “From where does your fear stem from, then?”

  “It comes from me. I am afraid of myself.” Dr. Heinz stared at him through his glasses, the magnifying effect making his eyes seems unusually large. “Fear of yourself.” He muttered, and scribbled a few things on his notepad. “You know, Oliver. Fear itself is not useful. Fear of self, even less so. Tell me, Oliver. What is your fear accomplishing?”

  Oliver squinted. “Well, I’ve been getting better grades.”

  Dr. Heinz smiled. “I would venture to say that that isn’t fear, but rather better study habits. I wonder if you could accomplish that without fear. If you could remove fear from the equation.” “But, fear keeps me safe.” Oliver replied.

  “No.” Dr. Heinz said, looking at him over the top of his glasses. “Fear keeps you contained. Fear keeps you from asking for and getting what you deserve. Fear has its purpose, certainly. That would be why it has, historically, been such an effective weapon in the hands of many rulers.”

  “But, what’s the cure?” Oliver asked.

  “The cure, for fear?” Dr. Heinz smiled. “That would simply be recognizing what it is doing to you, and not for you. The answer to your question, I’m afraid, isn’t terribly mystifying. But it is difficult to do, because the nature of fear is such that its shadow is much bigger than the monster itself.”

  ~

  Oliver stepped into his room, and to his surprise, Robert was there, waiting for him. He averted his eyes, made a beeline for his bed and collapsed onto it. Oliver felt Robert watching him from the other side of the room.

  “We’re having a meeting tonight at Owen’s, if you care.” Robert said quietly. He had been fiddling with his watch for the past ten minutes, so Oliver just knew that he had something to say.

  “That’s fine. I’m not interested.” Robert looked up exasperatedly. “We all want you to just come back.”

  “Why, so you can accuse me of being crazy?” Oliver asked.

  Robert opened his mouth and then shut it. “You haven’t been spray painting those circles?”

  “Those?”

  “Another one showed up today on Ms. Latham’s door.”

  Oliver jumped to his feet. “You’re still accusing me!”

  “I’m not, I’m just asking” Robert sputtered. Oliver ran from the room, fuming. His feet carried him all the way to the upper floor. He knocked on Paul’s door, and his stomach knotted up. Paul opened the door, looking slightly confused but he stepped aside and let Oliver through.

  Oliver sat on Paul’s bed, swinging his legs. “My roommate is practically never here. I think he lives in the gym.” Paul offered.

  “What’s up? Ramen?” He held up a cup of steaming ramen noodles. Oliver smiled in spite of himself, but shook his head.

  “I wish things could just be normal, you know?” Oliver shrugged his shoulders.

  Paul studied him for a moment before responding. “I hear you. That’s what I want. I just want to do well here, and impress my mom. She always wanted a kid to brag to other parents about. She can do that now, as long as she leaves off the “reform school” part in her conversations.” Paul chuckled.

  “You like it here?” Oliver asked.

  Paul furrowed his brow. “I like what I can do here. I like that I can be somebody. Doesn’t everybody?” Oliver nodded, more out of politeness than agreement. “They don’t appreciate it, you know.” Oliver looked up, curiously. “The senior boys, and Malachi.” Paul made a face like he’d just tasted something nasty. “They drink and smoke and come late to class. Don’t they realize they’ve been given a second chance to be somebody, to do something? They give us everything we need here, and they squander it.” Paul’s eyes had a fervent glint in them, and Oliver suddenly felt uncomfortable. “Didn’t feeling prepared for the history test feel good?”

  “It did.” Oliver said, honestly.

  “Consider it the start of a brave new future, then.” Paul smiled and tucked into his ramen.

  ~

  Oliver closed the door to his room, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he found all of his friends waiting there for him.

  “We need to talk.” Owen said, stone-faced. Oliver looked over to Robert who shrugged helplessly. He contemplating running back out the door, but before he could finish the thought, Malachi stood up and steered him further into the room. He sat down at his desk chair and looked around the room. It was as if everybody was holding their breath.

  “We’re sorry for accusing you of sabotaging us.” Malachi finally said, and some of the tension weaseled its way from the room.

  Oliver looked around the room, his bottom lip unsteady. “Why would I sabotage you?” He asked.

  Robert leaned forward slowly. “I didn’t believe that you did. But you seemed so not well.”

  Oliver laughed. “Is anybody well here?”

  “Fair point.” Alex piped up.

  “We didn’t know if you wanted to go on with our plan or not. We didn’t know if you had turned on us.” Owen pressed.

  “Especially since you’ve been hanging out with Paul.” Malachi added.

  “I was scared.” Oliver stopped short. “I still am, honestly. But that doesn’t change anything about this school, and running from it doesn’t change anything for us.”

  The first day of Thanksgiving Break, Oliver stepped into the cafeteria and smiled. The cafeteria was decorated with pictures of turkeys. The cheery new fat cook stood in front of the turkey serving line, offering up “Happy Thanksgiving!” in four languages, one of which Oliver suspected was actually just drunk babbling. Oliver looked over to the center table and smiled when his friends waved him over. It was almost enough to make him forget, to make anyone forget. Oliver grabbed his turkey and headed over to the center table. When he passed by Paul’s table, he felt Paul’s eyes on his back and he paused for a moment, unnerved, but then continued on.

  “Welcome back.” Owen slapped Oliver on the back as he sat down. The rest of his friends nodded and smiled.

  “So” Oliver said, leaning forward. “Where were we?” Malachi smiled from ear to ear for a just a moment before reverting back to his usual serious face. “

  People are wondering what’s going on. They’re complaining that---he lowered his voice---The Disciples have been quiet. That you lost it.”

  “We think that’s where the circles are coming from.” Owen added. “But, it’s gotten out of hand. Last night, our matron did random room checks at midnight.”

  “I got asked about my extracurricular activities by Dr. Heinz.” Alex added.

  “So, what do we do?” Malachi pressed. Oliver looked around the table at his friends. With Dr. Heinz’s words echoing his mind, he leaned forward. “We get a plan.”

  Chapter 10

  The week of Thanksgiving Break provided ample time for planning, as classes were not in session. To his relief, Oliver found himself easily getting back into the swing of things, and no one asked him what he did with Paul. Oliver rested his feet on the table in Owen’s room and peered between his legs at Alex.

  “What?” Oliver asked, as he stuck his hand into a bag of chips. His fingers wandered around the inside of the bag until they closed around the familiar ruffled chip.

  “I said, who are you going to call?” Alex asked.

  Oliver had felt his heart flutter when Matron Charlie had stopped by his room the night before. She had rather irritatingly told him that his bed was still to be made daily even though classes were not in session. As soon as Oliver had started to tune out, Charlie said the magic words. "....You'll have free phone calls as well, now, though I'm afraid you'll have to set up some type of schedule with the other boys…" Robert had made a mad dash towards the door and Oliver had followed blindly behind him. When they rounded the corner on the phone room, they skidded to a stop, as every boy in the dorm was already there.

  “I have no idea.” Oliver said, truthfully. “You?”

  Alex leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “My dad. H
e’ll want to know what I’ve been up to.” He said, softly.

  “I might call a couple of the boys from the home.” Gabriel shrugged.

  “The line is still down the hall.” Robert noted.

  “The plan?” Malachi interrupted. He tapped the poster board with his stick, and Oliver almost laughed. It was good to be back.

  “We have a problem.” Owen supplied.

  “Right!” Malachi wrote the word “Problem” in black sharpie and underlined it five times. “Sabotage.” Oliver said.

  “Let’s call an open meeting tonight. We’re getting too hot, and everyone needs to understand how dangerous this is. When things cool off, we can make some new plans.” Owen said.

  Oliver looked around the room. “Let’s do it.”

  ~

  The wind was particularly biting on this night, and Oliver pulled his coat closer to his body as he and the rest of the boys trekked out to the woods. They stepped into the clearing, and the chattering intensified like the buzz of one thousand angry bees. Oliver reconstructed his makeshift podium and looked out into the crowd. Most faces were blank, some were angry, with furrowed brows and deep frowns.

  “Welcome back, everyone---Oliver began, and as soon as he had, the crowd dissolved into angry mutterings.

  “It’s been long enough!” A boy shouted from the back.

  “Is this even a thing anymore?” A smattering of “yeahs” rose from various spots in the crowd. Oliver felt his heart skip a beat, and he looked over to Malachi for help.

  Malachi put his hands around his mouth and yelled “Quiet!” His voice was surprisingly loud and within seconds the amount of muttering reduced to just a few whispers towards the back of the crowd. Malachi stood on his tip toes, and cast a withering look towards the back, and soon silence settled over the group.

  Oliver cleared his throat nervously and continued. “It has come to our attention that our group is getting some unwanted attention from the administration.” The boys in the audience stared blankly at him. “With that being said, we have decided to cease all club activities for now.” The angry muttering returned.

  “You can’t just take it all back.”

  Oliver looked into the crowd to see a straw haired boy coming forward, the crowd parting as he did. “You started this movement for us. For all of us. You can’t just stop it now.” Tom was flanked by two friends who both crossed their arms and nodded in agreement.

  Oliver suddenly felt helpless on his podium, and he froze. Suddenly, he was pushed to the side, and in his former place stood Owen.

  “Everyone.” He said sharply. The crowd stood with rapt attention. “This isn’t about destroying something that we all hold dear to us. We---he pointed to Oliver, Robert, Malachi and the rest---want this too. I’ve never felt more like I belonged than I do now.” Owen said to the mass of softening faces. “But the fact is, is that we may be in danger. Someone has told the administration what we are doing. I don’t know why. But I don’t put it past the matrons to take any means necessary to put this down. We don’t know what they’ll do. Seniors. You know as well as I do what happens after graduation. I ignored it for a long time, because I didn’t want to face the truth.” Owen suddenly stepped away from the podium, the whites of his eyes growing red.

  Oliver found his feet carrying him back to his spot. And, as if someone else was guiding him, he opened his mouth and words spilled out. “That’s why as of today, The Disciples has shifted its focus. We will no longer just focus on banding together, but providing escape from Delafontaine. Good day, everyone. We’ll be in touch.” The crowd gasped, and Malachi’s attempts to calm everyone down again proved futile. Oliver looked back at his friends. Owen’s eyes were still red, but he wore the biggest smile Oliver had ever seen. Malachi, however…

  ~

  “I’m really glad we discussed this Underground Railroad thing before you told everyone else.” Malachi stood beside the poster board in Owen’s room and tapped his foot. He glared at Oliver who only shrugged in response.

  “It felt like the right thing to say.” Oliver said, truthfully.

  “But you lied.” Malachi quipped. “How are we supposed to save everybody else when we can’t even save ourselves?” Oliver felt slightly dazed. Malachi was right, of course. He thought back to the words carved on the tree trunk, an image that was no doubt running through the minds of all the boys presently. He had somehow just managed to make a promise that he couldn’t keep.

  “I think we could do it.” Owen said, softly. Everyone turned to him, eyebrows raised. Oliver had almost forgotten he was in the room, as he’d been so quiet the entire time.

  “It’s never been done before.” Gabriel said.

  “How do we know that?” Oliver was certain that everyone was picturing the tree now, but that no one had the gall to bring it up.

  “Every class has one hundred students.” Oliver nodded, not sure where Owen was going with this. “That’s 100 seniors who graduate each year.”

  “You mean disappear.” Malachi offered.

  “Only the…peculiar ones, though.” Alex noted.

  Owen slammed his fist down on the table. “I have a friend who did it.”

  “Damien didn’t make it, Owen.” Gabriel said, and he looked down at his lap.

  Owen swallowed, visibly. “What if I can prove to you that he did?”

  Owen reached under his bed and pulled out a shoe box. He removed the top to reveal a stack of slightly yellowing letters.

  Gabriel flew from his chair. “You had these all along?” He asked.

  Owen looked up. “I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell anyone. He said not to.”

  Owen brought the letters over to the table and scattered them around before picking up one dated two months prior. He passed it around the table, first to Gabriel who grabbed onto it for dear life. “This is the last one he sent me. He told me that he found a place, but he can’t say anymore.”

  “How did he get out?” Malachi asked. He stood up and returned to the poster board, sharpie at the ready. Alex held the letter now, as Gabriel thumbed quickly through those in the stack.

  “It says…” Alex squinted in confusion. “It says the library. That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Malachi scribbled on the poster board. “He never told you anymore?’

  Owen shook his head. “I didn’t know if the administration was reading my letters or not. I didn’t even know he’d gotten out until he sent me the letters.”

  “He wrote you letters.” Gabriel said, suddenly. Malachi’s eyes darted back and forth between Gabriel and Alex, as if he were unsure of whether to note their exchange.

  “If he escaped through the woods, who wrote that message?” Robert piped up. He held one of the letters in his hand, examining the handwriting.

  “Maybe…” Oliver sat up straight in his chair. “Maybe the message wasn’t for us.” Robert scratched his head. “Yeah.” Oliver said, gaining steam. “Maybe he wanted to seem like he was in trouble.”

  “I guess that’s possible.” Robert said, looking troubled.

  “He wrote you letters.” Gabriel said again, this time louder than before. “I told you, it was a secret. Gabs.” The tension in the room was so thick, Oliver thought he felt it slide over him like a heavy blanket. Robert looked around the room, his dark eyes wide. Owen and Gabriel stared at each other, as if daring one another to speak first. Owen’s face was placid, but Gabriel’s bottom lip trembled uncontrollably.

  “But how did he get away? The woods around here go on for hundreds of miles. Delafontaine has eyes in town, too, I bet.” Malachi rapped at the poster board, although his voice was a bit gentler than it usually was. Gabriel’s face fell.

  “There must be a way.” Owen said, looking rather relieved that the focus had finally been taken off him.

  “Let’s say there is a way. How do we get people out?” Oliver asked.

  “Who goes first?” Robert said.

  The tension returned to the room quicke
r than icicles formed on a wintery New England night. “I think seniors should go first.” Owen said, and he looked around the room, daring anyone to challenge him.

  “What if it fails, and only seniors are able to get out?” Robert asked, and his words hung in the air for far longer than was comfortable.

  “We’ll get out.” Oliver said, finally. Robert looked at him skeptically. “We’ll get out.” He repeated, keeping his voice as steady as possible, because inside he was anything but calm. “We’ll get out.”

  They adjourned the meeting on the account of Robert running back from a bathroom break and shouting “The phone is free here!” From there, a mad dash to the phone booth that found Oliver behind Alex in line.

  “I’ll only be five minutes.” Alex said, but after he’d held up his index finger for the fifth time and mouthed “Just one more minute”, Oliver slid to the floor and got comfortable. When Alex finally hung up the phone, Oliver nearly jumped for joy and rushed into the phone booth the second it was vacated.

  He looked down at the number pad, and he realized he’d forgotten his mother’s phone number. It took several more minutes before he was able to piece it together, with the help of a rhyme he’d learned in nursery school. He remembered it suddenly and hummed it to himself while punching in the numbers. The phone rang three times before Oliver heard the click of the receiver. There was muted noise in the background, and for a moment, Oliver was afraid he’d dialed the wrong number. “Donovan residence.” The voice was sharp, and so definitively not his mother’s.

  “Uh, I’m looking for my mother. This is O-Oliver.” He stuttered, and he cursed himself for sounding so unsure.

  “Yes, this is Ms. Donovan’s nurse. Oliver, who?”

  Oliver recoiled. “I’m her son. Melissa Donovan. She’s my mother.” He said. There was silence for a moment, then rustling on the other end.

  “Oh, yes, Oliver. I’m her nurse. I will leave the message with her.”

  “No!” Oliver yelled. “I want to speak with her.”

  “Oliver…” The nurse began, hesitantly. “Are you aware that you mother has fallen very ill?”