The Boy who Lit up the Sky (The Two Moons of Rehnor)

by J. Naomi Ay

  “What are you doing?”

  “You're hurt, and I'm hurt so I'll stay here with you and we'll get better together,” he sighed tiredly. “You don't need to be afraid. I'm your friend.”

  I glanced cautiously at his face. He had long, black eyelashes covering his closed eyes.

  “Can you open your eyes?”

  “No,” he said. “Not until I get better and then I'll have to go back.”

  “Back where?”

  “To my body.”

  “Your body's not here?” I hesitantly touched his hand. “I can feel your hand.”

  “That's because I want you to,” he said in my head. “I want you to hear me and understand me too even though I don't speak your language.”

  “Okay,” I replied in my innocence. “Whatever. What's your name?”

  “Senya,” he yawned.

  “I'm Katie.”

  “I know,” he burrowed in next to me. “Can I hold your hand?”

  “Okay. You don't have cooties or anything yucky, do you?”

  “No,” he mumbled. “No cooties.”

  I gave him my hand and in a short time, I was sound asleep too.

  “How are you feeling, Katie Anne?” my mom asked the next morning as she came in with a breakfast tray.

  “Fine,” I replied. “But the boy is still here.”

  My mother left with a stricken look on her face.

  “Don't say that,” Senya told me once she was gone. “No one else can see or hear me. She'll think you are crazy and put you on even more drugs.”

  “Maybe I am crazy,” I suggested.

  “You're not,” he said still clutching my hand.

  My mom called the doctor anyway, and I heard her whispering to my dad outside my door. It was normal for a child who was traumatized to invent an invisible friend for a while. “He'll go away as soon as she is better,” she said.

  “Will you?” I asked.

  “I'll go away when I am better,” he mumbled. He tried to sit up and leaned against the wall for a little bit but then he got too dizzy and slumped back down. I felt very sorry for him and did my best to keep him warm by tucking the blankets around him, and I made certain he got most of the pillow. At night he curled around me and held my hand.

  “Do you want something to eat?” I asked one morning. “Don't you need to go to the bathroom sometimes?”

  “I told you, my body is not here,” he replied tiredly as if he had not slept all night. His wounds looked puffy and gross in the daylight.

  “Where is your body?” I turned on my side, propping my foot on top of the pillow my father had left at the base of my bed.

  “Far across the galaxy on my planet in a hospital bed on life support.”

  “What happened to you anyway?” We were face to face, nearly bumping noses.

  “I got shot and then fell off the roof onto a marble terrace.”

  “Ew,” I whispered since we were so close together. “That’s terrible. Why did someone shoot you?”

  He didn't respond. I think he fell asleep although his breathing was hard and unsteady. “Better sleep some more.” I pulled the blanked all the way up to his ear.

  It was boring lying in bed for two weeks. Even with Senya there to talk to, I was restless and itchy. I had a stack of books to read already loaded onto my tablet and to keep Senya entertained; I decided to read the classic Harry Potter series first. After the first fifty pages, Senya called Harry Potter a twit and was not impressed by the wizardry at all.

  “Harry can do cool magic things,” I insisted. “Let’s read more.”

  “I can do cooler things,” Senya replied a little huffily although today he looked even more ghostlike than before.

  “Really? Do something then,” I challenged.

  "I'm here, aren't I?"

  "That's not enough,” I protested. “Do something magical."

  “I can't. I'm sick right now. Read something else.”

  “You can't do anything magical. You’re fibbing."

  “Of course I can and I can do it without saying silly words or waving around a stick.”

  “Can you fly on a broom?”

  “I can fly without a stupid broom.”

  “But you can't right now because you're sick. Sure.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you have a cape like Superman?”

  “No,” he scoffed. “I have wings.”

  “Where?” I look him over searching for wings. “You are lying.”

  “I'm not. I don't lie.”

  “You are. You're a liar and a bratty boy. I like Harry Potter better than you.”

  “Fuck Harry Potter,” he hissed and turned his back to me.

  “Senya, don't swear!” I practically screamed and slapped him on his back. He ignored me and wouldn’t speak to me for the rest of the day.

  The next day I apologized for hitting him and then we watched a Disney movie and played vid games. Rather, I watched the movie and played vid games, and he listened with his eyes closed and made comments, which sometimes riled me with his criticisms, and other times were the funniest things I'd ever heard. My parents truly thought I had lost my mind. I was constantly chatting, laughing, sometimes snapping and later playing board games and cards with my invisible friend. By the second and third week when I was allowed out of bed and into a chair or the sofa, Senya, too, seemed to be improving and would sit up for several hours. We would play chess, I white and him always black. He would move the pieces without even touching them which I guess was an example of his cool powers. He always won, he never let me win just to let me win, and he would lecture me on what I did wrong which really annoyed me. At some point I decided that he was winning because he played black and I insisted we switch sides. He took white and promptly beat me in five moves.

  One night we were playing chess, and I had lost four times in a row. I was so pissed off that I told him I was never going to play chess with him again even though he had waved his hand and reset the board for a new game. He smiled at me as if he knew a great secret and replied that I would.

  “No, I won't,” I insisted and moved as far away from him as the twin bed would allow.

  “You will be the white queen, and I will be the black king,” he said. “Do you know what the queen's job is?”

  I shook my head.

  “To wear pretty dresses, smile at the people and fuck the king.”

  “Senya!” I shrieked. “Don't talk nasty!” I shoved him against the wall as I hard as I could. He pushed me back and I nearly toppled out of the bed and onto my head. I screamed at the top of my lungs as he grabbed my arm and yanked me back up.

  “Get out of here. I hate you! I don't want you here anymore!”

  “Are you fighting with your invisible boyfriend?” Allen said, sauntering into my room with an ice cream cone dripping down his hand and onto my rug.

  “Get of here, Allen!” I screamed for good measure, tears rolling down my cheeks, furious at Senya and now Allen.

  “Poor Katie,” Allen sighed dramatically while licking his ice cream. “They're going to have to lock you away in the funny farm. Fighting with your invisible boyfriend,” he shook his head. “Since you're going to be leaving anyway, I think I'll take some of your stuff. How about this?” He looked at my shelf and selected my favorite Breyer plastic horse, a black thoroughbred stallion. Grabbing the horse, Allen started to leave the room.

  “Allen!!” I shrieked. “Give it back!”

  “Nope,” Allen replied and waved it around. “Giddi-up Midnight. Let's go see what GI Joe is doing in my room.”

  I started to yell again, but all of a sudden, the horse just flew out of Allen's hand, soared across the room and landed in my lap.

  “Hey!” Now it was Allen who screamed.

  “Ah!” I nearly jumped out of bed.

  “How did you?” Allen looked at me with wide eyes. As he said this, the ice cream cone flew out of his other hand and smacked right into his forehead. “Ahhh!!!” Allen cr
ied.

  “What the hell is going on in here?” my mother shrieked, bursting into the room. “Allen you are making a mess! Get that out of your hair and go throw that away! Katie Anne, what is all this noise about?”

  “I almost fell out of bed,” I sniffed meekly and snuffled some tears. “It hurt.”

  She came over and ran her hand across my forehead. “Maybe I should give you another pain pill,” she muttered.

  I shook my head sadly. “I just want to take a nap.”

  “Ok Sweetie.” She turned off my bedside lamp and kissed my forehead. “Allen, what are you still standing for? Go on!” she hustled him out the door.

  I lay back on my pillow hugging my horse and cautiously looked at Senya. I realized then that since Allen saw the horse fly across the room and got the ice cream stuck on his head, I didn't imagine it and so I must not be imagining Senya. I wasn’t crazy after all.

  “Say you're sorry,” I whispered.

  “For what?”

  “For sticking an ice cream cone in Allen's hair, pushing me off the bed and swearing.”

  He thought about this for a minute.

  “I'm sorry for pushing you off the bed and swearing, but I'm not sorry about your brother. He's a twit.”

  “Yes, but you were mean to him.”

  “He deserved it. He's mean to you.”

  “He's my brother,” I explained. “That's the kind of thing big brothers do. Don't you have any brothers or sisters?”

  He shook his head.

  “Do you have a mom and a dad?”

  “Not really,” he yawned and looked very tired.

  “Well who takes care of you?”

  He shrugged. “Taner, I guess.”

  “Does he do stuff like pack your lunch for school and…and decide if you need more medicine?”

  Senya shrugged again and then burrowed down in the blanket without answering. He was quiet and pretending to sleep.

  “You have crooked teeth,” I said a few mornings later. “You need braces.” I was an authority on braces since I had avidly watched Allen get his on.

  “Really?” Senya replied. He was stretched out on top of the blankets today with his hands propped behind his head. He seemed to be feeling better. The wounds on his stomach weren’t quite as puffy and bruised looking anymore. It was Sunday morning, the sun was shining in through my windows and the next day, I was going back to school.

  “Yes.” I pointed at his incisors, which were longer than his other teeth and curved. “Only on those teeth though. The rest are straight.”

  “Which ones?”

  “These pointy ones are all bent.” I touched his tooth with my finger. It was sharp, much sharper than my own teeth. “See how mine are straight?” He touched my tooth with his finger. Then he touched the rest of my teeth and my tongue. I sucked on his finger and giggled. This was silly. Both of us had a finger in the other's mouth. Then, he touched my face gliding his fingers across it like a blind person would. Abruptly, he turned away from me and faced the wall.

  “What's wrong?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” he mumbled. “Leave me be.”

  “Why?” I climbed on top of him and stuck my tongue in his ear.

  “Just go!” He shoved me off.

  “Stupid bratty boy.” I shoved him back and then climbed on top of him again, pinning him face down on the mattress with my heavy cast.

  “Let's play beauty parlor. Your hair's a mess. I'm going to brush your hair.” I snatched my hairbrush off the bedside table.

  “Leave me be!” His voice was muffled by the pillow.

  “Maybe I should cut your hair,” I mused, pulling the brush through his long wavy strands. “Your hair is way too long for a boy. See how short Allen's is?”

  “I don’t want my hair cut.”

  “Why not?” I brushed it until it shone. Then I played with it, braiding and twisting it. “It’s sort of uneven. It’s longer on this side than over here. If I cut it, will it be cut where ever you really are?”

  “No.”

  “If somebody cut it there, would it be cut here?”

  “Yes. They are already cutting it. That’s why it is uneven.”

  “Who is cutting it?” I made a pony tail.

  “The nurses and the doctors. They are taking bits of it when Taner's asleep.”

  “Why are they taking bits of your hair?” I leaned down and put my face next to his so that our cheeks were rubbing together. I could feel his eyelashes on mine.

  “They sell it.”

  “You're making that up. Who'd want to buy bits of your hair?”

  “Get off me!”

  “Fine,” I said and climbed off him. “I'm done playing with you anyway.” I got out of bed, threw on my ugly blue terrycloth bathrobe and headed to the kitchen to get some Corn Pops before my mother made me eat an egg.

  The next morning, I dressed myself for school. I was wearing a walking cast now and could move about fairly easily. As I slipped my school sweater over my head, I turned back to look at Senya. He was sitting up on the bed looking at me, and for the first time, his eyes were open. Silver light streamed out from beneath his long black lashes.

  “OMG!” I cried. “What's wrong with your eyes?”

  “This isn't wrong,” he replied. “This is how they are supposed to be. I'm better now.”

  “Are you leaving?”

  “I will soon. Today I want to come to your school with you.”

  “You can't come!” I protested.

  “Why not?”

  “Well,” I fumbled. “You're not in fourth grade, right? You're in seventh grade, like Allen. That's in a whole other building. You'll have to take a different bus.”

  Senya cocked his head a little and his weird eyes flickered. “I don't know what grade I'm in,” he said after a bit.

  “Well, you're twelve, right? Like Allen?”

  He nodded.

  “So that's seventh,” I concluded. “You need to go to school with Allen."

  “I will come with you just for today.”

  “Do you promise to behave?” I demanded, planting my fists on my hips. “And I mean it Mister.”

  He nodded again.

  “Okay,” I agreed. “But you can't talk to me especially when I am in class. You have to promise to be perfectly quiet.”

  “I promise,” he said and stood up. He towered over me. I guess I didn't realize he was so tall when he was lying in my bed.

  “Wait outside for me,” I told him and headed to the kitchen for my breakfast and lunch bag.

  “You sure you're going to be alright?” Mom called as I headed out the door. Senya was waiting on the front stoop dressed in his pajama bottoms. If anybody saw him they'd probably laugh, so I figured it was a good thing only I could see him. He had his face turned to the sky like he wanted to get a sun tan even though it was pretty cloudy and would probably rain all day.

  “I’m fine,” I yelled back to Mom.

  “This is a nice place you live,” Senya said as we headed up to the bus stop which was on the corner a few steps from our drive. We boarded the bus together, and since I was still in a cast, the bus driver gave me the front row. Senya sat down in the empty seat next to me. He looked strange here in the bus so much bigger than all the other kids. He looked different too with his shiny black hair, pale skin and weird flashing eyes.

  "You look like an alien," I realized.

  "What was that, Katie?" The bus driver called over his shoulder. I bit my lip.

  When we arrived at the school, Senya walked beside me as I headed to the classroom and sat down at my desk.

  “Welcome back, Katie,” my teacher, Mr. Hopper said.

  “Thank you,” I replied distractedly watching Senya wander around the room touching everything, the globe, the maps, the books, the vid, the chairs and tables and finally settling on the couch that was really for the parents who wanted to come watch in the back of the room. He didn’t stay there long though. For a guy who had been in be
d for nearly three weeks, he now couldn’t seem to sit still. All morning long he was walking up and down the aisles of the classroom seemingly right in front of Mr. Hopper and the other kids. He stood next Mr. Hopper while Mr. Hopper explained how to do our math problems by writing everything out on his screen. Senya came back and squatted down next to me.

  “This is too simple for you,” he said.

  “Mhm,” I agreed. “But sometimes it's harder.”

  “What?” Peter said from the seat next to me. Peter was one of the popular boys and had always been mean to me. “This is too hard for you, Katie? Are you stupid?”

  “Shut up, Peter," I replied.

  "Shut up, Peter," he repeated in a simpering voice. "You gonna make me, Katie?"

  I turned my back to him and tried to continue my work when I felt a spit wad hit the back of my head. Another hit my cheek. Peter howled with laughter.

  "Stop it, Peter," I growled and just as I did so, Senya stood up, went over to Peter and pulled him up and out of the desk with one hand wrapped around the boy’s neck. Peter’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. Senya was holding Peter up in the air, his feet barely touching the floor, and his face was turning blue.

  “What's going on here, Pete?” Mr. Hopper trounced over. "Stop goofing off and get back to work."

  Peter made a choking sound.

  "Senya!" I hissed. "Put him down!"

  Peter dropped on the floor gasping for breath and rubbing his neck.

  Mr. Hopper helped Peter up. "You okay there, pal?"

  Peter burst into tears and snot ran down from his nose. I looked away because it was gross. Senya was back on the parents’ couch again. "There was a kid," Peter wailed. "A real creepy looking kid with long black hair."

  "There's nobody in here like that," Mr. Hopper said doubtfully. "Maybe we ought to get you to the nurse’s office."

  Peter wailed even louder as the recess bell rang. Everyone bolted out of their seats and out the door.

  During recess, I didn't play with anyone. I had been absent for so long that my friends all forgot about me. Mary Beth Stevens who was a popular girl was playing jump rope with Adrienne and Leslie which made me madder still. Did Adrienne and Leslie actually think they were popular too? I was having a totally rotten day, and it was still morning. I really needed to talk to Senya though.