A terrified girl squealed. Oboe leaped off of the television and the illustrators looked up.
On the screen, Douglas Starchaser carried a voluptuous (and now unconscious) blonde through the door of a rocket ship. “Let’s get off of this godforsaken planet, pronto!”
The eloquent space explorer fingered the ignition button. Thrusters fired. Boulders, sand, and some debris that looked like crumpled paper fell all around the ship.
“You think there’s such things as aliens?” asked the scrappy youth. “For real?”
Hug looked at Rex, who had grown three inches taller and received a crew cut since the two of them met. “Of course there are aliens. Do you know how big outer space is? How many stars and planets exist?”
“Pretty much.”
“So then, statistically speaking, Earth can’t be the only place with life—there are far too many planets in the universe for them all to be boring.”
“You’re probably right.”
“And also,” the anomalous boy continued, “when I was younger, I used to have this same dream over and over again, so many times and so clearly that I know it has to be true. That this ‘dream’ was actually a memory of mine—or quite possibly, a vision.
“In it, my dad is an alien scientist on some far-off world who beamed me through space into my mom’s stomach. My DNA is very hard on her system, which’s why she didn’t survive giving birth to me.
“It turns out that the main reason he sent me here was so that I could learn about Earth and the human race and so forth. Eventually, I’m supposed to go back to him and let him know the situation down here.”
Chewing an eraser, Rex nodded his head. “So that’s why you’re so smart and look weird.”
“That’s why, though I’ve never told anybody else before. So don’t tell my mommy—it might upset her.”
“I won’t, I won’t. It’ll be our secret.” The scrappy youth grew wistful. “I wish my dad was an alien.”
“Your dad owns a ranch and horses and a big toothpaste company and knows how to hunt and square dance.”
“Alien is better.”
The anomalous boy patted the scrappy youth on the shoulder.
Footfalls sounded in the hallway.
Concerned, Hug gestured at the drawing pads. “Quickly!”
Amazing illustrations of futuristic weaponry were covered up by mediocre pictures of bucktoothed horses.
At present, Abigail and Sandy walked into the den. Both of them looked very, very, very happy.
The handsome man cleared his throat and faced the prone children. “Boys . . . we have a very important announcement to make.”
The mother wiped her sparkling eyes. “We’re getting married.”
“So you’ll be my dad?” Hug asked Sandy.
“Proudly.”
“And Rex will be my older brother?”
“That’s right,” said the handsome man. “This summer we’ll become one big family.
Three arms and a nubbin shot into the air as the children cheered.
Seventy jubilant wedding guests danced to the tempo that was set by the swishing hi-hat of the band’s curly-haired drummer. The focal point of the twirling, sliding assemblage was Abigail, who had long hair and wore a blue wedding gown, and her new husband, Sandy, who was tuxedoed and clean-shaven.
Amongst the many eyes observing the newlyweds was a mismatched pair that blinked asynchronously at the kids’ table. Dressed in a well-tailored blue suit, Hug Chickenpenny happily swung his legs in time with the music while Rex talked with Cherub, a doughy eleven-year-old boy who had red hair, chubby cheeks, and tiny green eyes.
The song ended, and cake was served.
Hug picked up his fork.
“The place is haunted,” Cherub said to Rex. “Full of ghosts. Jam-packed.”
Interested, the anomalous boy cleared his throat. “Ghosts? Are they malicious? Wraiths of the night?”
“You can talk!” exclaimed the doughy redhead, who then snickered unpleasantly.
“Of course I can talk. Though at get-togethers such as this, I generally prefer to eavesdrop or just quietly ruminate.”
Cherub shoved some cake into his mouth and demonstrated the process of chewing. “But what’s wrong with you? Somebody dropped you into a slime pit or something?”
Frowning, Rex shook his head. “Nothing’s ‘wrong’ with him—he’s just different.”
The doughy redhead eyed the anomalous boy. “Where do you go to school?”
“I’m home-schooled—my mommy teaches me.”
“Your ‘mommy’ teaches you? How old are you? Six? Five?”
Indignant, Hug straightened his hunched back to the best of his abilities. “I’m nine.”
“It’s pretty hard to tell,” said Cherub. “You look—”
“Shut up,” barked Rex, who then curled five of his fingers into a fist. “Lay off my brother, or I’ll knock your teeth out.”
The doughy redhead sought the support of the other boys and girls who were at the kids’ table, but nobody returned his gaze. Cowed by the threat of a toothless future, he continued to gruesomely devour his cake.
Hug coughed and patted Rex on the shoulder. “Thank you.”
“We’re brothers.”
XXII | Sidereal, Ethereal, and Corporeal
Boring flute music leaked from the ceiling speakers into the waiting room of Doctor Sheila’s office, which had mauve wallpaper, matching carpeting, and four white sofas, upon one of which sat Hug Chickenpenny. Held by his right hand and the thumb that had grown out of his nubbin during the last two years was the comic book Journey of the Interstellar Buccaneers.
The anomalous eleven-year-old wiped his nose slits and coughed. Glittering purple dust sprayed onto the page that he was reading. “Darn it.”
Hug withdrew a handkerchief from his denim vest and wiped the sparkling matter from the comic book. The well-used cloth was then folded and replaced in his pocket.
Ignoring rather than scratching the twelve itchy pustules that adorned his face and neck, the anomalous boy resumed reading.
———
Abigail Westinghouse wiped tears from her eyes as Sandy squeezed her shoulders. Across the desk from the couple and in front of numerous framed degrees sat Doctor Sheila, a confident thirty-six-year-old woman who had short blonde hair, long fingers, and invisible eyebrows. Bright steel instruments filled the metal trays that lay on either side of the physician, and upon an adjacent wall were hung three anatomical diagrams.
The upset mother found her voice. “Isn’t there something—anything—that you can do?”
“Because of the uniqueness of Hug’s physiology, I’ve regularly consulted with my colleagues, and we’re all in agreement . . . These cysts are deeply rooted and connected to too many key arterial networks for us to consider surgically removing them. The bleeding from such a procedure might prove fatal.”
“So that’s it?” snapped Abigail. “With all the big advances in ‘modern medicine,’ all this stuff on your walls—your degrees—my poor son just has to suffer?”
Doctor Sheila folded her hands and took a deep breath. “Hug has a good home, a brother who’s his best friend, and two parents who love him very, very much, which is far more than he had a few years ago. These cysts may look bad, but they’re not harmful.”
“They itch. He says that they itch all the time.”
“I’m sure that they do . . . though it seems like he’s adapting to it.”
“That boy’s had to adapt his whole life.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
The mother felt her illogical hostility toward the physician dwindle. “I’m sorry, Doctor . . . I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“I understand your frustration . . . and I wish that I had some better answers for you at this time. I do my very best for all of my patients, but if I could do something more for Hug—anything at all—I would. His spirit is remarkable.”
Sniffling, Abigail nodded her hea
d in agreement.
“Come on, Abby,” Sandy said, “let’s not have him spend too much of his birthday in the waiting room.”
“You’re right.”
“There’s one other thing I’d like to mention before you go,” said Doctor Sheila. “Not exactly good news, but . . . well . . . definitely more positive than the other stuff we’ve discussed.”
Befuddled, the mother looked from the physician to the handsome man whom she had married.
A runner squeaked as Doctor Sheila opened a drawer. From her desk, she removed a black velvet pouch, which she then set next to a paperweight. The contents of the little bag clicked.
“These came from a growth that’s connected to Hug’s appendix.”
Abigail opened the pouch and looked inside.
Collected within were three purple, crystalline stones.
The mother withdrew a lone specimen from the pouch. Light glimmered beautifully on the violescent surfaces of the multifaceted object.
“This is an amethyst,” said Abigail.
“Our lab technician shared one with a jeweler, who said the same exact thing.”
Hug Chickenpenny sat in the back seat of the family van with Rex, who had not long ago turned thirteen. Up front, Sandy dialed the wheel clockwise, and Abigail gestured.
“We’re here.”
The anomalous boy coughed and looked through the windshield.
On the far side of the glass was the town observatory. Five huge telescopes jutted from the domed roof of the building and collected starlight.
“Splendid.”
It had been three months since Hug had last observed the sidereal bodies, and there were many astral positions that he needed to verify.
Sandy slotted the automobile into a space that had a wheelchair sign.
“All right, fellas. Let’s go.”
The family departed from the van and walked through the main entrance. Inside the huge circular room, the anomalous boy looked around.
The walls were covered with pictures of space expeditions, and the thirty or so people in attendance read information cards, ate hot dogs, inspected cosmic flotsam, bickered, and stood in line for the restroom.
“Quickly!” said Hug, who garnered a few wary glances from strangers as he and Rex proceeded to the telescopes. The Asian family who stood at the largest instrument politely fled when the brothers arrived.
Sometimes, the anomalous boy reaped the benefits of anomalousness.
Hug climbed onto the platform, slotted two quarters, closed his cloudy eye, brought his good one to the telescopic glass, and looked toward outer space.
Everything was blurry.
Employing the thumb that extruded from his nubbin, he recalibrated the focal plane.
The hazy gray image became hundreds of crisp bright dots, all of which were stars. Within this vast array of sidereal bodies was something very special.
“Rex!”
“Yeah?”
“You need to see this for yourself. Quickly!”
Hug stepped away from the telescope and gestured with his nubbin. Rex put his right eye to the telescopic glass. “What’m I looking for?”
“Remember the—” A cough interrupted the anomalous boy. “Remember the constellation that I was trying to locate when we sneaked out on the night of the new moon?”
“Yeah—The Nine-Headed Dragonlion.”
“That’s the one.”
“You found it? Where?”
“Do you see that swirl near the top right edge of the viewing field?”
“I do.”
“Right below that are sixteen stars in the shape of a reptile. Do you see that shape?”
Rex pivoted his body and silently counted from one to sixteen. “I do. Looks kinda like an iguana.”
“Rising from the front of that iguana are nine strings of stars.”
“Wait a minute.” The scrappy youth corkscrewed his head sideways and silently counted from one to nine. “I see them! All nine.”
“Those are the heads of the Dragonlion.”
“Wow. This’s the best constellation I’ve ever seen.”
Sandy materialized, munching popcorn, and patted Hug on the back. “Whenever you fellas are ready, your mom and I will take you over to Pinball Alley for some games and birthday cake.”
“We should be done with our observations in about thirty minutes.”
“We’ll stay as long as you want.”
“Splendid.”
Birthdays were the best.
———
Dressed in blue pajamas that were decorated with scores of little brown cows, Hug Chickenpenny flopped onto his bed, which was across from the one in which lay Rex, who was currently buttoning his camouflage sleeping attire. On the far wall of the room the brothers shared were the action figures, comics, and models that belonged to them both, the science books that belonged to the anomalous boy, and the sports equipment that belonged to the scrappy youth, who was starting to become a very good athlete.
Abigail kissed Hug on the forehead, and Sandy shook his hand, which made him feel like a real grown-up.
“Good night, young fella,” said the handsome man. “And happy eleventh birthday.”
The anomalous boy suddenly felt very sad.
Concerned, the mother sat on the edge of the bed. “You had a happy birthday, right?”
“Yes . . . it was great . . . really, really splendid.” Hug scratched his lumpy scalp. “I’m just . . . I’m just sad it’s over.”
Rex chuckled. “You’re always sad when it’s over. Just start looking forward to the next one—that’s what I do when mine ends.”
“It’s an astronomical year,” lamented the anomalous boy. “It takes forever for this darn planet to get all the way around the sun.”
Abigail took Hug’s right hand in hers and gently squeezed. “Next year you’ll be twelve—and that’s a very important birthday.”
“It is,” said the anomalous boy, who brightened at the thought. “The zenith preteen.”
“Sleep well, fellas,” said Sandy. “G’night.”
“G’night,” said Rex.
“Goodnight,” said Abigail, who then kissed Hug a second time and stood up. “Have pleasant dreams.”
“Goodnight Mommy—I mean, Mom. Goodnight Dad.”
The mother took the handsome man by the hand, waved goodbye, switched off the light, exited the room, and shut the door.
Two sets of diminishing footfalls sounded in the hallway outside.
Listening to these noises, Hug sat upright. “Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven . . . six—”
“Five,” Rex continued, “four . . . three . . . two . . . one.”
A click, a small creak, and a gentle clack sounded at the far end of the hallway. The adults had entered their bedroom and locked the door.
Hug and Rex looked at each other.
“Quickly!” said the brothers.
The anomalous boy lunged out of bed, went to his dresser, and opened the top drawer.
All of his clothing was gone.
“Darn it!”
“Goddammit,” said the scrappy youth, whose dresser appeared to be empty as well.
It soon occurred to Hug what must have happened. “The maid probably packed up our summer clothes and put them in the attic. It’s supposed to get cold early this year.”
“Goddammit and hell.”
“We’ll have to go as we are.”
Rex exhumed a pair of ripped jeans from underneath his bed. “I’ve got these at least.”
“Quickly!”
The brothers stalked through the house like burglars and exited by the sliding glass door. Into the moonlit summer night and across the raised deck they padded. Sneakers in three different sizes squeaked across the damp grass as the scrappy youth and the anomalous boy hastened toward the perimeter of the property.
Hug felt an itchiness in the back of his throat but refrained from coughing while the house was still visible. Stealth was
paramount.
Expertly, the brothers exhumed, uncovered, and traversed by the secret tunnel.
Rex helped Hug to his uneven legs and preceded him into the forest. For more than mile, the brothers followed a twisting, but familiar, trail.
“Wait.” The anomalous boy paused, coughed up some purple glitter, and pointed his nubbin toward an overgrown path. “Let’s try that one.”
“You sure? It doesn’t look real . . . visible.”
“I agree, but we’ve explored all of the other options.”
“Well okay.” The scrappy youth shrugged. “I really hope we find that house tonight.”
“So do I.”
Hug wiped his glitter-stained hand on the rump of his cow pajamas and walked toward the obscured path. From his pocket he withdrew a miniature red flashlight.
“Wait,” said Rex. “Let me go first. It’s overgrown, and I’ve got thicker clothes.”
“But—”
“Quickly!”
The scrappy youth hastened onto the obscured path and began his itinerary of breaking branches and snapping twigs. Following the cleared trail and shining a little flashlight was the anomalous boy.
Through foliage, branches, darkness, and time, the brothers hiked. “Watch out for this one.”
Hug avoided the indicated branch, sucked a leaf into nose slit, and started to cough. The little red flashlight fell from his hand and splashed in a puddle.
“You okay?”
The anomalous boy nodded his head, righted himself, and gave the scrappy youth a wet amethyst.
“Cool.”
Hug reclaimed the dark flashlight from the mud, but the device no longer worked. “Darn.”
“What time is it?”
The anomalous boy glanced at his glow-in-the-dark watch, which was the kind that astronauts wore. “It’s twenty-four minutes after midnight.”
“We’re gonna need to head back if we don’t find it pretty soon.”
The anomalous boy raised and pointed his nubbin. “Then quickly!”
Rex plunged headlong into the forest, followed by Hug, who was starting to doubt that they would locate the haunted house that night.
Branches cracked and dead leaves crunched as the brothers proceeded along the overgrown trail. Above the canopy, the moon was a fragmented thing that yielded inconstant amounts of light.
Hug Chickenpenny: The Panegyric of an Anomalous Child: The Panegyric of an Anomalous Child Page 13