can’t speak can’t speak can’t speak, his throat as dry as sand and closing up, his vision blurry, his body trembling beneath the covers.
Janice steps forward and wraps him up in her arms and holds him as he cries and cries and cries until he falls asleep.
~~~
When he awakes it’s getting dark, the afternoon lava shadows creeping along his bed.
When he rolls over his pillow crinkles, crusty with dry tears. He wiggles his toes and he feels them move.
A door slams as he kicks off the blanket. He plants his feet firmly on the floor. He’s done crying, done asking questions. It only makes him feel stupid and sad.
Before he can move to open the door, it swings toward him, his father’s large frame filling the doorway. He feels the tears coming, but he squeezes his eyes and pushes them away.
His father takes two strides and pulls him into a hug, lifting him off his feet, warming him from his head to his toes.
And still the boy doesn’t cry.
But he does hug his father back, as tight as he can. Because what do all his questions matter? His father loves him. Janice, too. What else does he need?
Images of children playing, tagging each other, flying kites, and climbing trees cycle through his head, but he ignores them, pretends they don’t matter. “Nothing,” he whispers into his father’s neck, answering his own internal question with what he knows is a lie. A beautiful, perfect lie.
“What, Son?” his father asks, finally setting him down.
“Nothing,” he repeats, which his father thinks is an answer, rather than the word he spoke a moment ago.
Chapter Ten
H arrison jumps from the couch and does a little dance when the news story comes on.
The Slip has been found!
When he finishes celebrating and turns back to his mother, Janice, she’s staring at him, wearing a frown as deep as the overflowing oceans. “They caught the Slip,” he says, wishing his voice sounded stronger.
“They killed her,” his mother says.
Harrison had forgotten that that’s what they do to unauthorized children. But he doesn’t want to think about it right now. She wasn’t even supposed to be born so does it really matter? All he cares about is that… “Dad will be around more now, right? Maybe he could come to one of my hoverball games? We’re the best team in my age group. Coach says I may be able to move up to play with the older kids soon.” He realizes how fast he’s talking, how he’s forgotten to breathe. He stops to suck air into his lungs, waiting expectantly for his mom to answer.
“Baby, I—I’m sorry.” She looks so old all of a sudden. Her eyes are puffy and red, with lines spider-webbing around them. She pats the spot on the couch next to her. Harrison clambers up beside her, tucking his legs beneath him and wondering what she has to be sorry about.
“We’re not a normal family,” she says, putting her arm around him. Her eyes dart to the walls, to the ceiling, even to the holo-screen, as if someone might be listening. “Even now that the Slip is caught, your father still won’t be around much. There is always more work to be done.”
Angers boils up inside him, his fists clenching in response. “That’s not fair,” he says. “I’m a good player. Why doesn’t he want to watch me?”
“He does,” his mother says. “I swear it. He just has…a lot on his mind.”
The boy is on his feet in an instant, not caring that he’s never seen his mother look so sad. “I hate him!” he shouts. “And I hate having a weird mom, too!” He runs to his room, throwing the door shut behind him with a floor-shaking slam.
The tears flow hot and fast, soaking into his pillow. But for some reason, the more he cries the more determined he gets. Even if his family isn’t normal, he will be. He’ll have the most friends at school and be the best hoverball player in the world.
And then it won’t matter that he never sees his father and that his mom is different than the other
Janice steps forward and wraps him up in her arms and holds him as he cries and cries and cries until he falls asleep.
~~~
When he awakes it’s getting dark, the afternoon lava shadows creeping along his bed.
When he rolls over his pillow crinkles, crusty with dry tears. He wiggles his toes and he feels them move.
A door slams as he kicks off the blanket. He plants his feet firmly on the floor. He’s done crying, done asking questions. It only makes him feel stupid and sad.
Before he can move to open the door, it swings toward him, his father’s large frame filling the doorway. He feels the tears coming, but he squeezes his eyes and pushes them away.
His father takes two strides and pulls him into a hug, lifting him off his feet, warming him from his head to his toes.
And still the boy doesn’t cry.
But he does hug his father back, as tight as he can. Because what do all his questions matter? His father loves him. Janice, too. What else does he need?
Images of children playing, tagging each other, flying kites, and climbing trees cycle through his head, but he ignores them, pretends they don’t matter. “Nothing,” he whispers into his father’s neck, answering his own internal question with what he knows is a lie. A beautiful, perfect lie.
“What, Son?” his father asks, finally setting him down.
“Nothing,” he repeats, which his father thinks is an answer, rather than the word he spoke a moment ago.
Chapter Ten
H arrison jumps from the couch and does a little dance when the news story comes on.
The Slip has been found!
When he finishes celebrating and turns back to his mother, Janice, she’s staring at him, wearing a frown as deep as the overflowing oceans. “They caught the Slip,” he says, wishing his voice sounded stronger.
“They killed her,” his mother says.
Harrison had forgotten that that’s what they do to unauthorized children. But he doesn’t want to think about it right now. She wasn’t even supposed to be born so does it really matter? All he cares about is that… “Dad will be around more now, right? Maybe he could come to one of my hoverball games? We’re the best team in my age group. Coach says I may be able to move up to play with the older kids soon.” He realizes how fast he’s talking, how he’s forgotten to breathe. He stops to suck air into his lungs, waiting expectantly for his mom to answer.
“Baby, I—I’m sorry.” She looks so old all of a sudden. Her eyes are puffy and red, with lines spider-webbing around them. She pats the spot on the couch next to her. Harrison clambers up beside her, tucking his legs beneath him and wondering what she has to be sorry about.
“We’re not a normal family,” she says, putting her arm around him. Her eyes dart to the walls, to the ceiling, even to the holo-screen, as if someone might be listening. “Even now that the Slip is caught, your father still won’t be around much. There is always more work to be done.”
Angers boils up inside him, his fists clenching in response. “That’s not fair,” he says. “I’m a good player. Why doesn’t he want to watch me?”
“He does,” his mother says. “I swear it. He just has…a lot on his mind.”
The boy is on his feet in an instant, not caring that he’s never seen his mother look so sad. “I hate him!” he shouts. “And I hate having a weird mom, too!” He runs to his room, throwing the door shut behind him with a floor-shaking slam.
The tears flow hot and fast, soaking into his pillow. But for some reason, the more he cries the more determined he gets. Even if his family isn’t normal, he will be. He’ll have the most friends at school and be the best hoverball player in the world.
And then it won’t matter that he never sees his father and that his mom is different than the other
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