Friday, August 26, 2005

   Chapter 2: Future (part 1)
“It’s Tory’s birthday.”
“Happy birthday to her,” nine-year-old Pen remembered saying. The wisewoman pulled the book out of his hand and sat down in front of him.
“When’s your birthday, anyway? You’ve never celebrated it—why?”
“I don’t want to have people do things for me,” he answered. “It makes me feel—I don’t know... strange.”
“You’re weird.”
“Do I look normal?” he asked sadly.
The women sighed and fingered her golden hair that was draped loosely across her shoulders. “No, but I don’t think that’s why people stay away from you.”
“Why, then?”
She pulled up a chair and sat down. Pen waited without looking up. When he was younger, the wisepeople would act sweet to him and try to tickle some reaction out of him. It had embarrassed him before, in front of the other, normal boys. Now, he hated them deeply for it. Very, very deeply, for wanting to make him stupid like the other kids. He hoped that this wasn’t another of those lectures—he wasn’t sure if he would be able to keep his temper in check.
“First, you have to tell me why you don’t hang out and play like the other kids,” the elf-woman said gently. He hated that tone.
“Because they’re stupid,” he spat. “Dumb, ignorant, foolish, and stupid. I don’t want to be like them.”
“But you do,” she said. That hadn’t been what he had expected. When she didn’t say anything else, he looked up and met her eyes.
“No.”
“Yes. You see, the reason that you hate them is because they have friends and friendships that you don’t have. You want to be like them, but you didn’t know how. I don’t know why, but you never knew how to make friends.”
Pen thought for a minute, letting the words wash up against the coast of his stubborn mind. He knew that couldn’t be true... but her words still echoed in his ears. He refused to let her be right.
“The reason I’m telling you about Tory’s birthday,” the wisewoman continued, “is because she used to like you. She used to respect and admire you, but you never returned the favor...”
“She never liked me,” he said, making sure to keep his voice strong. “Now, she’s only afraid of me.”
“Tory still likes you,” she replied, nearly interrupting him. There was anger in her voice that Pen had never detected before in the wisepeople. It seemed to tug on him, deep inside. “She likes you but you won’t let her in. You are a stubborn soul.”
“I don’t care. I care about me and my future—it is Tory’s own fault if she wishes to mess up hers.”
“Being a child doesn’t mess up your future!” the wisewoman had worked herself up to a fury. She jumped to her feet. “The other reason I’ve come to see you is because of this,” she threw an envelope at him. “I hope it makes you happy.” She took a deep breath to try and calm herself. “I worry about you.”
“Don’t waste your energy on me. I’m nobody to you—I can feel it.”
The wisewoman looked down on him with anger and pity-filled eyes. “I let Tory and her friends visit the city for her birthday. You can go if you want.”
“I don’t.”
“Please. Tory wants you to be there. Don’t ruin her birthday, Penumbra.” With the whisper of her white gown across the polished wood floors of the library, the elf left the dark-natured boy alone.

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