Evan Veils was only ten at the time when he last saw both of his parents. It was a very stormy morning, and the black, rain-filled clouds hovered with a sullen task to fulfill. As ill as he was, he watched the rain falling onto the concrete and the trees outside his two-story home, wondering when the sky would stop crying. His father, Theo, walked over to the green couch of silk, where his son sat on his knees to gaze through the see-through pane.
"The rain is suppose to cleanse the atmosphere, son," he told him. His deep voice compelled the boy to turn around. Evan's father was about seven feet tall, fit-figured and had dark brown hair to his shoulders. His son's hair was already longer than his by two inches. He continued with that same tone, "It may look like the earth is being punished, but in truth, the rain is just flushing its rage out. That is why the news anchor called it a 'torrential shower...' of some sort."
"It looks so sad," Evan replied, nearly choking. "I want to cheer them up!" As he sobbed, Theo placed a large hand on the child's shoulder.
"How about I tell the sky a powerful tale from my past?"
Eager to hear, Evan turned around and sat at attention. Theo looked up at the sky and stared. "One bright day, my wife and I practiced what we did best. We had to swordfight, for there was a championship coming. So, my brother came with a mannequin, like this old statue made of wood my sister Joyce made." He walked up to the shabby, wooden statue, and then he eyed the sword right by it. "He asked me, 'would you like me to rate your fine skill, my brother?' I agreed, so I took my sword and practiced on that. I will show you what I did." He grabbed the sword and wailed on the figure, wood flying fast and falling like leaves. Evan's mother, Arrea, heard Evan's excited squeal from the kitchen, and turned her head.
"Theus Augean Veils, I suggest you clean it up!"
Theo's green eyes glimmered in the bright firelight while gazing lovingly at his wife. "I will, my dear. I'm trying to cheer up the environment for Evan."
"That's nice. You still should not make messes for him, though."
Evan started laughing at the conversation. As his father picked up every shard of hickory, he kept telling his story. "My brother said I was remarkable for learning the technique so quickly. I turned, spun and jumped like I did now, and he did not know how to do that until I taught him. Now, a day like that is very good."
When Evan turned to the window, the sky was clear, bright and light blue. He ran to his father and embraced him. "Thank you!" cried he, "thank you, father!"
Theo smiled at him. I guess it worked out all right, he thought in relief.
Evan then asked him this question. "Why are all of your stories about swords and royalty? Are you a knight?"
Theo raised both of his eyebrows, turning to his wife. "Dear, how should I answer this one? I'm lost."
"He's too young to know. Tell him on his thirteenth birthday like your father suggested to you at his birth."
All of a sudden, the doorbell screamed at the residents. Evan jumped back and cowered in his dark green cover, shaking. His heart pounded over two hundred times a minute, and telling by how he shut his eyes, he was trying to deal with the pain from the shock. His mother ran over and held onto him. "Sometime this week, I'm getting to you to the doctor. This hyperventilation you've been going through already worries me."
Theo walked over to the door and opened in. Standing before him was a middle-aged woman with graying hair, wrinkly pale skin and a black coat made from the fur of a Border collie. It was Theo's sister, Joyce--and Evan hated her. Theo, however, tried to be respectful.
"Welcome, sister," he greeted. As she came inside, Evan got down from the couch and yelled at her.
"Aunt Joyce, you stole my favorite shoes last winter!"
Joyce's dark brown eyes gazed at her nephew. "Now, sweet Evan, I only bought you a better pair. I do not give an animal's rear end if you loved them so much!" Her voice cracked into that nasty, raspy tone when she said that. Evan shied away, but the reluctance ended when he took the wooden spoon from his mother.
"Stay back or I'll swing like my powerful father. Stand there and be spared or move and perish!"
His aunt snatched the spoon and turned to her brother. "May I ask why you told another story to him?"
"That is my way of inspiring him. You cannot tell me how to raise my son, Duchess Joyce."
"I don't care! That is why you and your wife have to leave to see father. I have the directions, so your modernized selves can find your way there and back."
"How dare you call us modernized, you wrinkled heathen!" Evan's mother snarled. Theo sighed, and consented.
"I believe we have been summoned. Will you respectfully look after Evan?"
"Of course," Joyce told him. "He still is my darling nephew…even though he has a racing heart you cannot even repair." Before she could even sit on the couch, the other woman stood her back up, pulling her by her arms.
"You sniveling witch!" She snapped. "You best not even bring up his pulse matter. That is our business!"
"It's not my fault he's sensitive," Joyce added, "I bet when he's a teenager, that racing heart will do something to alter his entire way of life. Now, say goodbye and run along to father."
Evan held onto his mother when she hugged him. "We must leave, Evan, so be kind to your aunt."
"What about my question to father?" he asked. His mother sighed, and told him he was too young to know about that. He had to wait a while. It was good enough for him.
Evan's father and mother walked out of the house. After that, they climbed into the family van and drove away. Joyce then turned to Evan. "Oh, I'm sure they will be back once they deal with their business. Now, I do know how you love to hear your father's stories about fighting. I have one we can act out together."
That night, Evan was screaming at the top of his lungs, and all who were around were able (and trying hard not to) hear his cries. The neighbors' delicate ears were pierced by the noise. Unfortunately, they were not strong enough to call the police.
Six years had passed, and neither of his parents returned to this day. Evan, now a very slender and very sensitive sixteen-year-old, is picked on by all of the students at Sellsworth High School. Like his aunt, they taunt him, beat him, and even come up with compelling rumors that stick to those who carried the same questions. Forced to endure the torture, he had to learn how to be as strong and as confident as his father. However, he felt no hope. Six years, no parents, an abusive aunt, conflicts at school…they all tied him down. One day, however, all of that would turn into his own interrogation of someone else. The same questions the other students had for him, he would have to have answered. It all started in his Junior English class, when the newest student of the school was honored and welcomed with much loyalty. When the kid was told to sit by Evan…who knew what was on his mind? And what was it about him that intrigued him? He had to figure that out on his own free will.
