Special

by Chino Chakanga

  The car hardly stopped in our driveway when I bolted out. I slammed the door shut and stormed into the house.

  Dad and Cody were in the living room playing a video game when I burst through the door.

  ‘How’d the treatment go?’ Dad asked.

  Oblivious, I climbed the stairs. Dad followed.

  ‘What happened?’ He asked. I continued up the stairs. ‘Hope?’

  I was halfway up when Mum entered the house.

  ‘We’ll find another treatment,’ she assure me.

  The thought of enduring more hospitals, drugs and needles was aggravating. I stopped and turned around.

  ’I’m done with the treatments!’ I yelled. I made sure the whole house heard. ‘Face it! You’re stuck with an abnormal child!’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Dad asked.

  ‘She refuses to continue with the treatment.’

  ‘Is that true?’ He asked me.

  ‘I can’t do it anymore.’

  ‘Why don’t you sleep on it? You might feel differently about it in the morning,’ Mum said.

  Just when I thought I had depleted the well of tears within me a flood gushed from my eyes.

  ‘No,’ I said through sniffles. ‘I’m… I’m tired of the doctors and the treatments… It’s never gonna work. My… abilities are never gonna show.’

  Dad walked up the stairs and wrapped his arms around me. ’It’s okay. It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. It’s okay.’

  Chapter 18

  I stomped into my room and shut the door. It was pointless, but I locked it anyway. I grabbed my trashcan and scooped bottles of painkillers and antiemetics into it. I rummaged through my drawers for every last medicine container and trashed it. A couple of pills ricocheted and scattered as some of the unsealed containers hit the trash can. I went through my draws for any reminder of my treatments. I crumpled and tore old medical papers and notes from my journals. When I was done there was no trace of medicine or medical notes.

  I curled up on my bed sobbing and sniffling until I fell asleep.

  I was briefly roused awake by the warmth of a blanket covering me. Mum gently covered me and turned off the light. I drifted back to sleep until the chiming of my alarm clock went off. I slammed the off button. There was a glass of water on my nightstand. My trashcan had been emptied. I pushed the blanket off me but couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed. I rolled onto my back staring at the ceiling. I heard Mum and Cody’s muffled voices and sounds through my walls as they got ready for the day. When I looked at the alarm clock an hour had gone by. I continued to stare at the ceiling until a knock at my door stirred me back to reality. I covered myself and turned facing away from the door.

  I heard the door open. ‘Hope,’ mum whispered.

  The smell of toast and spices wafted through the room. ‘I made you some breakfast.’ I heard the clinking of plates as Mum placed the tray on my night stand behind me. She came around and sat on my bed. ‘Hope.’

  I blankly stared at my closet.

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ I groaned.

  We sat in silence until Mum stood. ‘I need to drop off Cody. Get as much rest as you need.’

  She exited my room leaving the breakfast on my nightstand. ‘Call me if you need anything,’ she said before exiting.

  I waited a few minutes after the sound of the car pulling away before I dragged myself out of bed. I nibbled on a quarter of the breakfast and washed it down with the juice and the water left for me prior. I sat by my window most of the day watching the birds and the tree blowing in the wind. I was overcome with lethargy and nausea— painkiller withdrawal symptoms. I went back to bed. The sound of Cody’s feet stomping up the stairs woke me. Mum brought me dinner. ‘I called the school and told them you might need the rest of the week off.’

  I stared blankly at my desk. I waited a few minutes after she was gone to roll to my back. I sat up against my headrest and took a sip of water. My hand shook as I put the glass down. Another withdrawal symptom, I thought deeply until a knock on the door brought me back. ‘Hope?’ Dad called from behind the door. ‘Hope?’

  ‘It’s open.’

  He entered.

  ‘Hey,’ he said.

  ‘Hey.’

  He sat by my bedside. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a packet of gummy bears. He handed them to me. ‘I got you these.’

  I loved gummy bears. I loved the purple ones the most.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Sure.’

  We sat in silence.

  ‘I can’t imagine what you’re going through but I’m here for you if you need anything.’

  He got up and kissed me on the forehead.

  ‘I’m here for you. Call me anytime and I’ll come flying.’

  I nodded.

  He exited the room.

  The next two days weren’t much different. I stayed home from school. I only left my room to use the bathroom. I sat by my window most of the day. I would rest and sleep in the afternoon and have trouble sleeping at night. Mum and Dad would check on me to bring me food and make sure I was still breathing. I couldn’t finish my food but I eat a little more each day. The withdrawal symptoms persisted and got worse. Cold shakes, vertigo and nausea. On the third night I threw up. I sank into a deep — sleep of the dead until I was roused awake by a knock on my door.

  Mum entered. I turned to face away from her. I felt the weight of my bed shift as she sat at the edge.

  ‘Hope?’ she cooed. ‘How are you feeling?’

  She reached over and put her hand on my forehead to check my temperature.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I grunted, shrugging her off.

  ‘It’s almost noon, don’t you wanna get up?’

  I ignored her.

  ‘It’s so dark in here.’

  She got up and drew the curtains. The light flooded in, burning my eyes. I squinted and covered my face with my blanket.

  ‘It’s Saturday,’ I groaned.

  ‘I know, but you haven’t been outside in days.’

  She opened the windows. A fresh breeze blew in.

  ‘Your dad and Cody are going to Nova World so I thought that maybe we could do something. You know, just the girls. Maybe we could go shopping?’

  ‘Maybe get our nails done?’ I chirped.

  ‘Yeah,’ Mum beamed, ignoring the hint of sarcasm in my tone.

  ‘I’d rather go with Cody and Dad.’

  I threw my blanket off and stormed to the bathroom.

  ***

  ‘Which ride will it be first?’ Dad asked as we entered Nova World.

  ‘Space Mission!’ Cody insisted.

  Dad looked over his shoulder and asked me what I thought.

  ‘Okay,’ I said.

  Cody ran off when we approached a rollercoaster titled Space Mission. The ride was themed after one of Cody’s favourite games he was always playing on his tablet. He ran to the queue. The gate had just been closed, and the conductor was busy strapping people in. The conductor went over to the control. The roller coaster began its slow climb. The passengers screamed as the roller coaster sped down the tracks and started its first lap.

  People slowly started queuing up behind us.

  The screams of the passengers grew loud then faded each time the roller coaster carts passed by.

  One of the carts snapped from the tracks and loosely hung as it was dragged along. Sparks flew as it occasionally rubbed against the track.

  The conductor hit the brakes. The carts kept going. Sparks flew as the brakes gripped against the wheels, but not for long. The brakes soon failed.

  Dad flew to the aid of the doomed passengers in the loose cart. He chased the speeding roller coaster. The crowd watched in awe as Dad persisted after the roller coaster, slowly closing in on it like a heat-seeking missile.

  He followed it across tight turns and steep slopes.

  The conductor pulled the plug on the roller coaster, but it was too late; it had gained enough mome
ntum to propel itself for another lap or two.

  Dad dodged loose debris flying off the carts before he was hit by a large piece, falling back. The crowd winced and awed. Dad shook it off and continued after the roller coaster. The loose cart snapped off and hit another cart behind it, sending both of them flying off the tracks.

  The pressure safety harness on one of the carts failed. A passenger was sent hurtling towards the ground. Dad grabbed one of the carts and the passenger. He helplessly watched as the other cart plunged to the ground, the passengers screamed as they fell towards their demise.

  The cart suddenly stopped, hovering a few feet off the ground. Cody effortlessly held it and set it down gently before saluting Dad.

  Dad landed, setting down the passenger in his arms. The passengers immediately started thanking Dad.

  ‘Thank you,’ they gasped in relief.

  The other two passengers from Cody’s cart, thanked Cody as the conductor helped them out of their seats.

  I watched amongst the crowd as the passengers continued hugging and thanking Dad and Cody, showing tremendous gratitude. Dad spotted me amongst the crowd. I forced a smile. I was happy for Dad and Cody, but I couldn’t help feeling left out.

  ‘Thank you so much!’

  ‘I wouldn’t have pulled it off without Cody.’

  ‘He really is something special isn’t he?’

  ‘He sure is.’

  I slowly disappeared into the crowd as they all pushed and shoved to get a closer look at Dad and Cody. I was swallowed by the mob that swarmed around Dad and Cody.

  Chapter 19

  My heart pounded against my chest like a caged beast desperate to escape. Every mouthful of air felt strained. I was drowning in the overwhelming sea of people that had gathered around Dad and Cody. I fought my way through the crowd and rushed to the exit as soon as I was free. I took a long breath once I was outside Nova World. I meandered around the entrance until my pulse was steady. The thought of going back in there set my heart racing again. Going home wasn’t an option either. I didn’t want to see anyone, least of all Mum. I aimlessly walked until I reached the busy streets of the city. My legs hurt but I kept walking. I wandered down streets I had never been before. I was lost but I didn’t care. I wandered the streets for nearly an hour until I came across a missing poster of Asher near a bus stop. There was still no word of him since his disappearance. I wished I could run away. I imagined leaving everything behind and starting somewhere new, somewhere I didn’t have to deal with the red tape hierarchical labelling of school. Somewhere where abilities didn’t matter. Somewhere I wasn’t constantly reminded of how abnormal I was. The roar of the bus pulling up brought me back to reality. A few people got off. The bus door stayed open before closing. The bus pulled away. I studied the bus route on the side of the bus stop and hopped on the next bus that came along.

  After two connecting buses, I jumped off in a quiet neighbourhood. I walked down the familiar street to a white house with the most colourful flowers in the front yard. I walked up the steps and knocked on the door. There was no answer. I knocked again. The door slid open. Grandma Sophie stood on the other side, surprised. ‘Hope,’ she gasped. ‘what a surprise.’

  ‘Hi, Grandma.’

  She peeked over my shoulder.

  ‘Are you alone?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Come on in.’ She stepped aside motioning me in. I entered. Except for a few new ornaments and pictures, the living room was the same as I remembered. It was decorated with a wealth of souvenirs from around the world. There were neatly mounted picture frames on the wall leading upstairs. The pictures ranged from Mum as a little girl, grandma Sophie, grandpa and some pictures of me, Mum, Dad and Cody. One in particular caught my eyes. One of me holding Cody a few weeks after he was born. The house smelled of baked cookies and cinnamon.

  ‘I’m sorry to show up like this,’ I said.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Grandma Sophie said. ‘I’m really glad to see you. It’s quite a distance though. I could have gotten you.’

  ‘Can I stay here for the night?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course… Have a seat,’ she said gesturing to the sofa.

  I sat down. Grandma Sophie sat down beside me.

  ‘Do your parents know you’re here?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Did something happen at home?’

  ‘No.’

  She looked at me expectantly. Waiting for me to elaborate.

  ‘I just needed to get away,’ I explained.

  ‘How about some tea?’ She asked. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’

  Grandma Sophie disappeared into the kitchen before I could respond.

  I overheard her talking over the phone. The conversation sounded something like:

  ‘She’s fine.’ Pause. ‘Do you want to talk to her?’ Pause… ‘All right.’ Pause… ‘All right… Bye.’

  Grandma Sophie returned from the kitchen carrying a tray with some cookies, tea and water. She placed the tray on the coffee table and sat beside me.

  ‘I baked these this morning. Please help yourself.’

  I took one and began to nibble on it. It was quite delicious, but I had no appetite.

  ‘Your Dad has been looking for you all over.’

  ‘I forgot my phone at home.’

  ‘Are you sure everything’s all right at home?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I just needed to get away for a bit.’

  Her eyes searched my face.

  ‘Some fresh air always helps me clear my mind,’ she said.

  She stood up and extended her hand towards me. I got up and took it.

  ***

  In the blink of an eye, we were standing in the most majestic meadow overlooking a lake. The fields were covered in lush green grass. There were colourful flowers on either side leading to a forest. This great sight was complemented by the glow of a mesmerising cyan sunset.

  ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ said Grandma Sophie.

  She longingly stared into the distance. ‘Your grandfather introduced me to this place.’

  ‘Is it true he could see the future?’ I asked.

  ‘Indeed.’

  She strolled toward the lake. I followed her.

  ‘He was able to see the potential future of anyone he touched.’

  ‘Are you able to mimic that ability?’

  She sighed. ‘I used to, but I gave that gift up ages ago.’

  ‘I could think of a million things to do with it,’ I said.

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Winning the lotto or knowing answers to tests.’ Knowing whether I would ever gain abilities.

  ‘Those are all compelling reasons, but once you actually have the ability, you come to realise how redundant it is.

  ‘Faith and inner knowing are more powerful than predictions. The future isn’t cast in stone. It is pointless to linger on past mistakes or preoccupy ourselves with the future. Only look to the past to learn from it. No matter the failures of yesterday you are ultimately responsible for your future.

  ‘Lets hypothetically say I told you the answers to a math test. You would pass, but you wouldn’t learn or gain the necessary understanding for solving future problems. Would you?’

  I nodded.

  ‘You don’t learn or grow. It’s the experiences and the journey that make life worthwhile.’

  I nodded.

  She elaborated.

  ‘Let’s say someone told you the ending of a great book. Would you still read it or enjoy it as much?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘It’s the same with knowing what your future holds. You don’t learn anything because you’ve skipped to the ending. It’s during the experience that we learn and grow. Adversities only seem surmountable when we haven’t learnt how to move past them.’

  ‘What if you saw something that needed serious attention in someone’s future?’ I asked.

  ‘The future is subjective and constantly changing. It all depends on ou
r current state. There are infinite possible futures. My abilities allowed me to see the most likely outcome, but even so it could change with a simple thought or action. Dwelling on the past or wishing about the future is pointless. The present is all that matters. What we decide to focus on today determines the future.’

  We reached the lake. Grandma Sophie took a seat at a large flat rock overlooking the lake. I joined her. She was illuminated in the golden cyan skies reflected off the lake.

  ‘I quit my treatment,’ I confessed.

  Grandma Sophie put her arm around my shoulder.

  ‘I can’t imagine how hard it must be to be surrounded by abilities—’

  ‘It’s hard not to think about it when you’re constantly reminded how different you are.’

  Tears began to run down my eyes. Grandma Sophie held me tighter.

  ‘I know,’ she said comforting me. ‘I know. I know how hard it is gaining abilities. Unintentional or not, people can be mean. It’s human nature. It’s okay to get angry and upset, but if you listened to the opinions of everyone, you would be a tumbleweed in a sandstorm, easily swayed by your emotions. You would be dragged in all directions but your own. You can’t always change the perspective of others, but you can change yours.’

  I sniffled and wiped away tears.

  ‘If there are kids at school seriously bothering you, you can tell me and I’ll sort them out.’

  I nodded.

  Grandma Sophie teleported and come back with a drawing I made for her when I was eight or seven. ‘Real joy comes from creative expression. From your passions. Through song and dance. Through love and artistic expression. You don’t need special abilities to do any of that.’

  She took my hand. A second later we were standing in a city plaza facing a large fountain with sculptures of angels in the middle.

  ‘The structure before you started as a simple idea. You can create so much. It’s hard to see how expansive the world is when you are limited to your immediate reality.’

  My hand was still in hers. Another second and we were standing in a garden — Grandma Sophie’s backyard garden.

  ‘Reconnecting and healing the environment brings me the greatest pleasure. Physically touching and smelling the flowers is amazing.