by Willow Rose
HP was wearing a knitted sweater with a snowman on it, and his beard was long and movements slow as he leaned back on his couch. It was all very relaxed, or at least he wanted it to seem that way. To me, it was everything but.
"Doctor, we…"
"Please, call me HP. I’ve told you that before, Emma. It's okay. Everyone else calls me that around here," he said with a smile on his pale face. He was very blond, almost an albino, and his skin was pink and seemed irritated. It was scaling in patches on his neck and hands.
"Okay, HP," I said, still not comfortable calling him that. I liked the fact that he was trying hard to not be doctor-like, to make the kids feel like it was a normal school and not a hospital, but still. It was strange somehow.
"Victor didn't feel well for a few days. I’m sorry it came right at the beginning of his time here, but I didn't want him to give it to everyone else here, if you know what I mean."
"Yes, and no, of course not. But I’m just making sure we're on the same page here," he said, leaning forward, rubbing his hands together. Some dry skin fell off and landed in the thick carpet.
HP noticed that I cringed, then chuckled. "I am sorry. It's this cold weather. Makes my eczema flare up."
He walked to the desk, grabbed a bottle of moisturizer from the drawer, and massaged its content into his hands and face, making a squishing sound that made me cringe again.
"So darn hard to keep it moist this time of year, right? I keep using all this moisturizer, but little does it help."
I nodded. I didn't have eczema myself but knew others who did. I knew it could be very annoying and bothersome. I did, however, suffer from dry skin like most people around here.
"It has been unusually cold," I said. "And dry."
"It sure has," he said and sat back down. "All right. So just to be sure, everything is all right, right? We didn't do anything or say anything to make you keep him home?"
"No, nothing like that at all. No. I mean…he has been happy here so far…it's just, well…Victor just needed a break."
HP's eye twitched. "I thought he was sick?"
"He was…just…he needed a break to be sick in. That's all. He's fine now, right buddy?"
Victor didn't say anything. He wasn't interested in talking to HP, so he just didn't. He had no social skills whatsoever. That meant no empathy to make him want to have people like him or make them feel good in his presence. Sometimes, I thought it had to be very liberating to just not care what people thought.
"Great," HP said, smiling. "Here's the deal. We have put together a plan for him based on what little we know. Nothing is set in stone, and it can change with time. In it, we have set some goals that we believe we can reach together. But it requires your full support and help because we can't do it alone. I have it all in this folder, along with the assessment we made on his first days here. Go over them and let me know if you have any concerns. Anything at all. I would love to hear them, all right? And Victor, I can't tell you how happy we are to have you here."
Victor didn't answer, but HP didn't seem to mind. He was probably used to it. I grabbed the folder from his hand and shivered a little when I spotted the scaly skin his hands had left on top of it, then forced a smile.
"I'll go through this and let you know."
"Excellent," HP said.
As we exited the office, Victor's teacher, Victoria Kristensen stood outside, waiting. She smiled.
"I'll walk you to class, Victor."
I walked with them since the entrance was that way anyway, but as we trotted down the hallway, Victor suddenly stopped.
"What's wrong, buddy?" I asked.
He didn't answer. I noticed that his hands were shaking, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles were turning white.
"Oh, my," Mrs. Kristensen said. "Is he having a fit?"
I looked at my son, then bent down in front of him. "I think he's hearing something," I said and looked around me, searching for whatever could have scared him. There was a door next to where he had stopped that said NO ENTRY.
"That door. Where does it lead?"
"It leads to the old part of the building. We don't use it anymore," Mrs. Kristensen said. "There used to be a department for adult patients, but it was closed down many years ago, back in the eighties, as a matter of fact. Now, we only focus on the children. The building is condemned and should be torn down, but I guess they haven't been able to get the funds to do it. You know how it is."
Victor was shaking heavily now. His entire body was trembling, his lips quivering.
"It's okay, Vic," I said. "There's nothing there." I turned to look at Mrs. Kristensen. "Sometimes, he can hear the pipes from the sewer, and hear the noise they make and it scares him. Especially when they freeze."
"Oh, well, we have a lot of that here," she answered. "It's an old building, you know."
"Yes, I know," I said. "It's all over the island. He hears it more often than I do, and for some reason, it scares him."
Mrs. Kristensen smiled and nodded, looking like she genuinely cared.
"Maybe he hears things louder than most of us; it's not uncommon in children with borderline autism. They're more sensitive to sounds. We'll work on his anxieties. It'll get better. HP does wonders with these kids. Just you wait and see."
Chapter Fifty-Two
I had coffee with Sophia and we sat in the kitchen while Mrs. Williamsen took care of Susan in my living room. My parents grabbed a cup with us, while Skye was drawing on a sketchpad I had given her.
"So, what are you going to do about her?" my mother asked, whispering and pointing.
"You don't have to whisper, Mom," I said. "She doesn’t understand what we say."
"Right," my mom said, holding her cup between her hands. She had brought her own almond milk to put in it and told me we could just leave it here in my fridge for the next time she came around.
"And to answer your question, I don't know."
"She still hasn't told Morten," Sophia said.
"You what?" my mom said, appalled.
"I HAVEN'T TOLD HIM," I said loudly like she was deaf. I was mocking her, and she knew it. She made a face and shook her head.
"Why haven't you told him?" my dad asked.
"She's afraid he might take her away," Sophia said.
"Hey, I can answer for myself, thank you. But, yes, that is why," I said, slurping my coffee.
"You can't keep her," my mom said. "They'll think you kidnapped her. Oh, the poor parents."
"She doesn't have any parents," I said.
I grabbed a cookie. Having my mom in the house made me anxious. My mom sent me a glance when I took it and I ate it all in one bite just to annoy her. She rolled her eyes at me. It reminded me of Maya when she was younger. I wondered for a second how she was doing in school today.
"How do you know?" my mom asked.
"She told Victor."
"So, she does talk?"
"Nope."
My mom sighed. "Would you stop with all the riddles? How do you know she doesn’t have any parents?"
"I told you. She told Victor."
"Are you even listening to this?" she said, addressed to my dad. He gave me a look that told me to be nice.
"How could she tell Victor if she can't speak our language?" he asked.
"They speak. Sort of."
"In their minds," Sophia said, touching her temples with her pointers and making crazy eyes.
"I don't understand anything of what you two are saying," my mom said and threw out her hands.
My dad seemed to get it. He looked at me. "So, you don't think anyone is looking for her?"
I shrugged. "I haven't found anyone. No one in Denmark is looking for a girl of her description, no."
"I still think you should tell Morten," my dad said.
"And risk the girl becoming a number in the system, maybe even a guinea pig?" Sophia asked, horrified.
"Oh," my mom squealed. "I'm gonna be on the news, aren't I? I can see the headlines
already. Crazy lady kidnaps child and holds her captive. Her mother finally speaks out."
I pointed at my mother. "Don't you dare speak out to the media."
I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and took it out. It was Fishy Pines. Heart in my throat, I picked it up. It was Victor's teacher.
"There has been an incident. You should come."
Chapter Fifty-Three
Mrs. Kristensen was waiting for me by the entrance of the school, looking all flustered. Her eyes were avoiding mine, her hands shaking, and she was mumbling under her breath. She was rushing ahead of me down the hallway, her heels clicking on the floors.
"It was one of the other children. He took a book from Victor, pulled it out from between his hands, and then…well, Victor got really angry and…well…I didn't exactly see how it happened because it all went so fast…it was really fast…"
She hurried to the classroom and stopped by the open door.
"What was fast? What happened?" I asked.
"Maybe it's best you see for yourself," she said and led me into the classroom. I walked in, then almost dropped my purse.
"Victor did…that?"
Mrs. Kristensen nodded with a small whimper. "I-It was like an explosion. That's how it felt. Like pressure rushing through the room. It hurt our ears. Next thing, all the windows simply popped. Glass was everywhere, as you can see. It was flying through the air. We were lucky that no one was hit by it. Most of it landed on the outside."
"You're telling me that my son…Victor…got angry and then…exploded all four windows? How?"
She looked at me, terrified. "T-that's what we don't really know."
I stared at the glass on the floor. "But no one was hurt?"
She shook her head. "Luckily, no."
"And where are the children now?"
"We had to move them to another classroom. Victor is with HP. In his office. Waiting for you. I'll take you to see him."
I followed Mrs. Kristensen down the hallway to HP's office. Victor was standing facing the window when I came inside. HP got up from the couch when he saw me.
"He hasn't said a word to me," he said.
"Victor?" I said and walked up to him. I stood behind him, not quite knowing how to approach this situation. I had been through this before. I had received many calls from his old school, but that was usually because Victor had thrown some sort of fit, never because he had destroyed something or even tried to hurt anyone. Victor wasn't violent.
"Victor, buddy? Are you all right?"
He didn't answer. "What happened?" I continued, trying to get his attention. "Why did you get angry?"
"He took my book," Victor said. "I wasn't done with it. You can't just take a book when someone isn't done with it."
I exhaled, trying to not lose my cool. This was tough. "I understand that you got angry," I said. "But how did you break all those windows?"
Victor shook his head. "I don't know."
I nodded, thinking it made sense. Victor had done this without realizing it was going to happen.
"He didn't mean to…" I said, turning to face HP.
HP raised his hand. "I know. We know. It just happened. But you must understand that we can't have him in the same room as other students. At least not for now. It's not safe."
"Of course not, so what do you want us to do?" I asked, worrying that we were back to homeschooling.
"I'll work with him," HP said. "I think Victor and I can get really far if we work together, what do you say, Victor?"
He didn't answer. None of us expected him to. HP put his hand on my shoulder. It was glistening with moisturizer.
"He's a very special boy, Emma. And I have a feeling we haven't seen all of what he is capable of."
"He has been doing things lately that I…I don't know how to describe them."
"Try anyway."
"Like making things float," I said, feeling like I was betraying my son. "I have no idea how to handle it, to be honest."
HP nodded. "He is developing his skills. Probably because he is approaching puberty. We just need to find a way to help him control it. If you'll let me work with him. I find him very interesting. Very, very interesting."
Chapter Fifty-Four
I took Victor home. Skye was standing in the hallway when I opened the door, like she knew we were coming. She ran to him and hugged him. Victor hugged her back, much to my surprise, even with a smile.
I missed hugging him and holding him tight like that and I wished he would let me.
The two of them took off into the living room and I walked in after them to see what they were up to, but all I saw were the two of them sitting on their knees on the carpet, staring into each other's eyes. I could tell they were communicating somehow, but they were just sitting there, completely still. It was odd, and I felt left out.
I glanced at Susan who was still out, and Mrs. Williamsen was sitting in a chair next to her, knitting. I smiled and waved at her, then went to the kitchen where Sophia was still sitting, sipping coffee and reading the paper.
"Your parents left about half an hour ago, but I thought I'd stay and keep an eye on that girl for you."
I grabbed the pot and poured myself a cup. "Thank you."
"She didn't do anything weird, just drew a bunch of drawings," Sophia said, her nose in the paper. "How did it go with Victor?"
I sighed. "Not good. Apparently, he shattered four windows."
Sophia looked up from her paper. "You're kidding me? Victor? He would never do something like that. Victor isn't violent. He won't even fight like my boys do. He wouldn't hurt a fly."
"Well, apparently, he did it…he shattered those windows…with his mind somehow."
"What?"
I exhaled deeply and threw out my arms, resigned. "I don't know what is going on, Sophia. Sometimes I think I’m just losing my mind. I think it might have to do with Skye. You know how he has always been strange and could see and hear things I couldn't. Even sometimes warn me about the future?"
"Yes."
"Well, I think his powers are evolving. I think Skye opened a door to him somehow. To what he is capable of. Made him come out of his shell, in a sense."
I looked at the pile of drawings, wondering if there might be anything in them that could help me, anything to tell me where Skye came from or where she belonged.
I grabbed the first one. It was a drawing of a big fat rat. It was very accurate and drawn very detailed, but creepy. I grabbed the next and spotted another rat, just like the first one. The third showed just another rat and so did the fourth and fifth. I threw them all back in the pile with a sigh. This was getting me nowhere.
"I need more coffee," I said and walked to the pot. It was empty, so I made a fresh one, then grabbed some cookie dough from the fridge and made a batch of cookies on a sheet and put them in the oven.
"I’m making the kids some lunch. You want something to eat?" I asked.
"Herring on rye-bread, please," she said. "If you're having some anyway, that is."
"Of course. I'll go ask the kids what they want to eat," I said.
I stepped into the living room, searching for the kids, when I spotted them over by Susan. Mrs. Williamsen was there too.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"It's a miracle," Mrs. Williamsen said. "She woke up. Come."
I approached the couch. Susan had her eyes open and was smiling. "Oh, my," I said and clasped my mouth.
Mrs. Williamsen brought Susan a glass of water and helped her drink it. "There you go. Small sips."
Victor and Skye laughed and giggled, then rose to their feet, grabbed their jackets, and ran outside to play in the yard. I was about to yell after them that they had to get some lunch first, but I never got to it since I was so overwhelmed. Not only had Susan woken up, but I had just heard my son giggle and laugh for the first time in as long as I could remember.
"It was truly strange," Mrs. Williamsen said. "I was sitting and knitting when the girl walked to Susan an
d put her hand on her forehead. I didn't notice at first, but as soon as I did, I tried to stop her, and that was when I suddenly realized that Susan had opened her eyes. The kids were so excited. They're so sweet, the two of them. They have a truly special friendship."
I sighed and walked to the window. I spotted the two of them engaged in some game out by the tall trees. Victor was making a snowball and throwing it at her, making it float in front of her first, then as she turned around, he made it smash into her face. Skye, in return, jumped up high, higher than what seemed humanly possible, grabbed one of the tall branches and rustled it till it dropped a bunch of snow on top of Victor. Then they both laughed, Skye still floating in the air above him.
"They sure do," I mumbled under my breath, worrying about the day she wouldn't be here anymore. It was going to kill Victor.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Maya was freezing and blowing on her hands to keep them warm. She and Samuel had been waiting outside the house for an hour now. They didn't know what exactly they were waiting for, but something.
"Are you sure it’s here?" Samuel asked.
“This is the address from Asgar's calendar," she said, her lips quivering, her breath crystallizing in front of her. It was dark out and the house looked warm and cozy with all the lights on inside.
"And you're sure it was today and at this time?"
"It was on the calendar from six to seven, so I don't know if it was six or seven o'clock," she said.
Samuel nodded and jumped up and down a few times to get warmer. Maya did the same.
"If nothing happens at seven o'clock, then we leave," he said.
"Yes. It's probably just a wild shot, but I felt like we had to at least check it out," she said.
"Wait…something is happening," he said.
Someone on a bike rode up in front of the house, then parked it outside and went in.