The Wayward Gifted - Broken Point (16 page)

NINE

Steuart
couldn’t sleep.
He was
awake, hungry and bored. Remembering a chocolate bar on Sam’s dresser, he
tiptoed quietly from his room into the bathroom and on into his sister’s room.
Illuminated by a tiny night-light that was partially hidden beneath her desk,
and a sliver of moonlight peeking in through an uncovered windowpane, Sam’s
room was dark. In the middle of the night, everything looked just a little
purple.

Steuart found Sam lying face down, across
the bed on the top of her comforter. She didn’t move. He noticed a slipper on
her left foot. The right one lay on the floor by the side of the bed. Sam’s
head dangled so far down that she looked to Steuart as if she might roll off
the bed at any moment and do a somersault. Her hair flipped over her head and
covered the carpet. The dust ruffle, pinned up under Sam’s body, allowed her to
peer underneath at her doll. Sam’s face was completely obscured, not only by
the mass of hair, but also because of the darkness. Steuart couldn’t tell if his
sister was awake, or if she’d fallen asleep in that position.

Quietly, he moved closer, stood for a moment,
and stared. His sister didn’t move. Steuart cleared his throat. She didn’t
move. He coughed a little. She remained lifeless. Then he walked around to the
foot of the bed and coughed once more. Still no reaction, he thought about how
Sam would be cranky and unwilling to share if he woke her from a sound sleep.
He wanted her attention, but not at the expense of a bite of chocolate.

Steuart put his index finger against
his forehead and then opened and looked at his palm. He devised a plan. He
caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and smiled. He extended both arms
and closed his eyes. He turned around three times and began walking. Steuart walked
forward and then sideways; he walked forward, sideways again, and around in a circle.
He walked two steps back, sideways two steps, and forward once more before
bumping against Sam’s chest of drawers.

He walked backwards two steps,
continuing his game until he finally backed into the foot of Sam’s bed, tripped
and fell onto her mattress. Steuart landed next to his sister.

“Ouch! What are you doing Steuart?”

“Oh, oh, where am I?” Steuart yawned.

“You’re in my room. What are you up to?”
Sam shook her brother’s arm.

Steuart opened his eyes slowly and
yawned again, “Sorry, I must’ve been sleepwalking again.”

“Sleepwalking—
again?
You’re kidding me—right?
When did this start?”

He continued to yawn. “It’s just
something I do from time to time. It’s occasional.”

“What are you talking about—time
to time? Occasional? What are you up to?”

Steuart ignored Sam’s questions. “This
time I was dreaming. I was dreaming. I found myself in here.”

“Dreaming?”

“Dreaming,” Steuart nodded. “I was
dreaming about being hungry. I had a dream about something to drink. No, that’s
not it. I was dreaming about getting something to eat.”

“What was it?”

“Vegetables, no, not vegetables.”
Steuart sighed, and looked at his sister. “It’s vague. Dreams are so hard to
remember.”

“You should go back to bed now. I need
to sleep.”

“No, wait...”

“What was it?”

“It was brown.”

“What?”

“Chocolate!”

“Chocolate?”

“Yes, it’s coming back to me. I was
dreaming about chocolate.” Steuart yawned.

“Shh,” Sam looked under the bed. “I
think I hear something.”

“Mouse?”

“Don’t say that!”

“Shh, don’t be so loud, you’ll wake
Mother.” Steuart jumped up, walked to the doorway, put his head into the hall
and listened as his mother snored softly. Looking back at Sam, he teased, “Or
upset a mouse?”

“Don’t do that. Stop it! Do not say
mouse. That’s not what it sounds like.”

“How do you know what a mouse sounds
like? Have you ever heard a mouse in the house?” Steuart was wide-awake, and in
a mood to tease.

Mouse in the house

A house mouse

Houses have
mouses

Well, houses have mice

Mice can be nice

But there’s always a price

What is the price

A mouse might have lice

Throw dice

Or be very nice

If you have a cat

He’ll make your mouse scat

Does this make sense

Or make you feel tense

Sorry dear Sam

You don’t give a...

“Steuart, please hush.” Sam put her
fingers into her ears. “You’re acting like a child.”

“Acting like a child? Sam, I am—I
am a child. Surely you realize that I’m little more than one year past fifty-percent
of becoming an adult. I’m supposed to sound childish. You should be having fun
too. You’re only sixty-six percent there.”

“This is not fun.”

“Now you’re sounding like Mother.”

“Fighting words Steuart, say that again
and I will not-so-kindly ask you to leave my room. I’m going to tell Dr. Klesel
what you said.”

“You’re right. That was unkind of me.”
Steuart stopped. He bowed his head briefly. “I apologize. However, you must
remember that I’m a boy. Besides that, I’m your brother—not your friend.”

“I don’t think it was a mouse. Please
don’t tease me. I don’t like the thought of anything unwanted in my room, or
anywhere else in the house. Being ten doesn’t excuse you or give you the right
to be mean to me.”

“No? Being twelve doesn’t give you the
right to boss me around.”

“You know better.”

“Okay, but I’m hungry. Do you have
anything?”

“What?”

“To eat.” He looked towards the hall. “You
know a lot of kids like mice, some keep them as pets.”

“Stop it,” Sam pushed Steuart’s
shoulder. “Right now. We both know that I have a chocolate bar.”

“Will you share?” Steuart added extra
sweetness to his voice. “Please, please, please,” he put his hands together in
a prayerful motion, “cherry on the top and all of that stuff.”

“If I share my chocolate will you hush
and go back to your room? I have a history test in the morning.”

“Who’s being mean now? Can’t you hear
my stomach growling?”

Sam rolled her eyes.

Steuart looked towards Sam’s closet, “If
there’s a mouse in here...”

“Okay, okay, okay—
okay
, go ahead and help yourself. It’s
in that drawer.” Sam pointed to her nightstand.

Steuart reached to take out the
chocolate bar. Sam turned over and began looking under the bed at various
items. Just as she reached for the artist doll a wee voice said, “Please, I’d
like a small bite too.”

Sam dropped the doll onto the carpet
and bolted upright. “Steuart! Don’t do that!”

“Do what?” Steuart had the chocolate
bar halfway to his mouth.

Sam looked at her brother, “How’d you
do that?” She looked around the room and asked again, “How did you do that?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Down here, please. I’ve not eaten all
day.”

Sam looked at Steuart. Steuart looked
at Sam. They looked at the doll. “What’s happening here? Sam asked.

Sam and Steuart sat looking at one
another in the darkness. They looked at the bedroom door. They looked at the
bathroom door, the closet door and the bedroom window.

The voice spoke again, “What are you doing?
All I did was ask for a bite of chocolate. It’s not as if I could eat the
entire bar.”

Sam looked at the doll, “No,” she
whispered, “dolls do not talk.” She walked to her closet, opened the door and
came out with a box. She walked to her bed and looked underneath at the doll.

“Chocolate? Share? Please? Hello? Are
you deaf?” the doll asked. “I know you speak English. I’ve heard you. I’m
starving.”

Sam picked up the doll, put it into the
box, and closed the lid. The doll yelled and kicked as Sam shook with fear. She
looked at Steuart and laid the box on the bed.

Steuart set the chocolate bar on the
nightstand and ran out on tiptoe leaving Sam alone with the talking box.

Sam’s heart raced. She jumped under the
covers, turned tummy first and moved down so that the covers were over her
head. She locked them tightly under her body and shook with fear. She felt the
box roll over. The top came off and hit the floor. The doll came out and sat on
Sam’s bedspread. Sam continued to hide. “Sam,” the doll said, “We need to
talk.”

“I must be the sleepwalker,” Sam
whispered to herself.

* * *

Eventually, Steuart returned to his
sister’s room. Wide-awake, Sam was calmer, but still afraid, and still hiding.
“Don’t be scared. It’s okay,” Steuart said. “I promise. It’s okay.”

“No, it is not okay,” she whispered and
pulled the covers tighter. “I’m scared. Go get Mother.”

“I will not,” Steuart whispered.
“Mother will make us get rid of the dolls. She can’t know about this.”

“I don’t care. We should get rid of
them. I’m scared. I think I’m going to scream.”

“Don’t scream. Please don’t scream.
Listen Sam,” Steuart sat on his sister’s bed.

“Steuart, I’m going to scream!”

“No! You owe me. Remember the tree
house? You cannot scream. Listen to me.”

Sam lay silently under her covers.

“I took my doll out from the closet. I
had a feeling that everything was okay. I knew there was something magical
about the Wayward Gifted. Sam, they’re magical because they’re alive. You don’t
have to be frightened. They won’t hurt us. They’re like you and me—just
smaller. Come out Sam. Come on.” Steuart tried pulling the covers away from his
sister. Sam continued to struggle. Steuart pulled at the covers and accidentally
pushed Sam off the bed. She landed on the floor underneath the box. She stared
up at her brother. He held the boy doll.

“Steuart, What are you doing? I don’t
like this. We’re in some sort of weird, crazy dream. Dolls cannot be alive.”

“These are,” Steuart grinned. “These
dolls are alive. I am not teasing with you.”

“No.”

“They are. Sam, I’m sure-as-Matt.”

Sam stared at Steuart. She glanced at
his doll.

“Sam, this is my friend, the comedian,
Ed Camino.”

Sam watched as the doll moved, bowed
from the waist, and threw her a kiss. It was magical. The doll extended his hand
towards Sam and then spoke, “Hello Miss DuBoise. Steuart says that you have a
bit of chocolate. Is it possible that I might have a tiny bite?”

Sam watched carefully as Ed continued,
“I understand that you’ve already met Trista Petrina.”

Sam glanced at the girl doll seated on
top of her covers. Trista put her hand up and waved, “Hi Sam, I’m Trista. It’s
lovely to meet you.” Sam’s mouth hung open. “I apologize for frightening you
tonight. We’re alive—we’re also hungry.” Sam grabbed the covers and
pulled so hard that Trista lost her balance and rolled away.

“Stop that!” Trista yelled. “I thought
you were nice.”

Again, Sam jumped in the bed and pulled
at the comforter. Again, she covered herself completely. “This is a dream,” she
repeated to herself, “This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream. This
is a dream. This is a dream. I don’t believe this. I’m dreaming. I’m having a
dream. This is a dream. I’m in a dream. No—I’m in a nightmare. This is a
very bad dream.”

Olivia entered Sam’s room, turned on
the light, and yelled, “What is going on in here?” She pointed towards her son,
“Steuart go to your room—right now! I’ve had it with both of you. Go to
sleep and put those nasty dolls away.”

“Sorry Mother,” Sam knew this would be
better discussed with Dr. Klesel.

“Sorry Mother,” Steuart walked towards
his room.

Olivia turned out the lights, walked down
the hall, got into her bed and then screamed, “If I come back, I’ll return with
my wooden spoon.”

Sam lay stiffly under her covers and
wondered exactly what was going on. Steuart looked at Ed. He reached down,
picked Trista up and whispered, “Let’s go to my room.”

“But, what about the chocolate?” Ed
whined.