11 Years Old
I never had a lot of friends growing up. In all honesty, I never had a single good friend. Sure, I sometimes talked to my science partner, and I usually had a lot of interesting conversations with the young lunch lady who was saving up for medical school, but I had never had someone who I could honestly refer to as a best friend. I was always what people consider to be a nerd, who would rather spend my time reading up on advanced microbiology than going to Jimmy's 10th birthday party. Barry Allen was a world-class nerd, everyone knew that. I guess that's what started all the bullying. Or maybe, the reason I didn't have any friends, was because I was always bullied, and people were afraid that if they were to become my friend, they would get bullied as well. I don't blame them.
I thought of all this as I sat in a table in a prison conference room, along with my father in handcuffs, my lawyer wearing his signature grey suit and glasses, and three cops that were standing in different corners of the room. It's been 2 weeks since my father was officially charged with the murder of my mother. He was sentenced to life in prison, no parole, no chance of ever living a normal life. No one believed me when I told them he didn't kill my mother, that it was actually the man in the lightning. They all thought I was some poor kid who wants to protect their father. They are all wrong.
Ever since my father was put in prison, I was forced to stay in an orphanage, along with multiple other kids, with multiple different stories. We were all different from each other, but the underlying fact, the one thing we all have in common, is that we have no where else to go. Most of the kids there avoided me, none wanted to get close to the nerdy new kid. After all, it was only a matter of time before one of us left to another home, never to contact the other again.
My father, lawyer, and I are all gathered at the prison today to discuss the possibility of finding me a permanent home. No one wants to take in the son of a convicted killer.
"Does Bartholomew have any friends that would be willing to take him in?" My lawyer, Mr. Wilson asked.
"No. And it's Barry." I answered quickly. It was true, I never had any real friends, and the bullying only got worse after 'the incident'.
Trying not to let out a frustrated sigh, Mr. Wilson adjusted the glasses on his nose, and looked through some files.
"Well, as you are aware, the orphanage Barth- sorry Barry, is currently residing in is only a temporary home. Since he still has another 7 years as a minor, we have to find him another place to reside. There are not enough foster homes here in Central City, so he may need to be placed in a different city." Mr. Wilson informed my father.
"I made it quite clear that I do not want Barry in foster care. Isn't there any family that is willing to adopt?" My father pleaded.
"I'm going to be honest here, Barry's case is not the most appealing. He is already 11 years old, and he comes from a tragic home. That is not exactly the kind of child most people are looking to adopt."
"Just please, keep looking. There must be someone." My father once more pleaded.
"Very well. The trick to finding someone a suitable home is seeing what makes them different from everyone else. So, Barry, what makes you different?" Mr. Wilson asked me.
Finally, a question I could answer. Ever since my mother was murdered, I have been useless. No one listened to me, even if I was the only eyewitness. People usually directed all questions to my father or lawyer, and when they did ask me a question, it was one that was impossible fro me to answer. But this, this I could answer. All my life I have been different, usually made me a target for most bullies, but now it could be the only thing that will save me.
So without missing a single beat I answered, "I have an abnormally high IQ, with stellar grades, and a deep interest in science. My mother was born in Paris, so ever since I could speak she has been teaching me French, so I am fluent. I can play the piano, violin, and guitar. Mother used to say I am musically gifted. I have a passion for composing, whether it is in regards to music, or scientific experiments."
As I spoke, Mr. Wilson took down notes. I just hoped my talents would be enough to find me a family. It's not that I wanted someone to replace my parents; in all actuality I despised the idea of having someone else look after me. But I was doing this for my dad. He would never rest well if I was stuck in foster care, instead of being adopted. So even though I may hate the idea, this was something I had to do, for my dad.
Setting his pen on the table, Mr. Wilson said, "I have no promises, but I will keep looking. Who knows, maybe the kid could get lucky." With that, Mr. Wilson said his good byes, and left the room.
I then said a quick farewell to my father, before an officer escorted me back to the orphanage. It was another week before I heard from Mr. Wilson again. He had contacted the orphanage, asking if I could be taken down to Iron Heights Prison again for a meeting. They were quick to agree.
So an hour later, I am sitting once again in the dark conference room, one again around a table with my father, and Mr. Wilson. This time however, there were two new people sitting opposite of me. The man was tall and slightly muscular. He was wearing what seemed to be a very expensive navy blue suit. The woman next to him was also blond, with her hair tied up in an elegant bun. She was wearing a gray professional, yet stylish dress, and she had a noticeably large wedding ring on her finger. From what I gathered, the two of them are married, most likely extraordinarily wealthy, have high respecting jobs, and are somewhere between their late thirties to early forties.
Mr. Wilson cleared his throat, and began the introductions, "Mr. and Mrs. Smythe, this is Mr. Henry Allen, and his son Bartholomew Allen, although he prefers to go by the name Barry. Henry, Barry, meet Richard and Hannah Smythe, they are looking to adopt."
My eyes widened as he completed the introductions. Someone was actually looking to adopt me?
"It's lovely to meet the two of you." My father said.
"Yeah, it's nice to meet you." I quickly followed.
"It's great to meet the two of you as well. We have been looking forward to this." Hannah Smythe said with a sincere and pleasant smile.
"So, what do the two of you do for a living?" My father asked, cutting right to the chase.
Richard was the one to answer, "Well, I am a states attorney, while my wife is an interior designer."
"Impressive work. Where do the two of you live?" My father asked.
Hannah answered, "Well, we have two homes. Richard works in Ohio, but most of my work is done in my hometown in Paris. So we often tend to move between the two."
I was the one to talk this time. Switching to French, I said, "Your accent is remarkable for a native Parisian. I never would have guessed."
A look of surprise crossed Hannah's face as she replied in her native tongue, "I could say the same for you. If you spoke to me in France, I would have never guessed you had an ounce of American blood in you. Quite astounding for a young man your age."
"My mother was quite adamant on the fact that I perfect my accent."
"Well she did a remarkable job."
My father chuckled, and said, "Barry, stop showing off."
"Yes father." I replied with a small smile.
"Your son is quite intelligent Mr. Allen." Richard remarked.
"With the risk of sounding full of myself, I must say that I am quite aware of my sons intelligence." My father replied.
With all of the compliments being passed about me, I could feel myself start to blush.
With a soft laugh, Hannah turned toward me and asked, "Mr. Wilson here told us that you are well versed in the musical arts, is this true?"
"Music certainly fascinates me. I play the piano, violin, and guitar, but I hope to perfect them more. I also compose music, although I can't say for certain how good I am at any of these." I answered honestly.
"Stop being modest Barry. He has been playing all of these instruments since he was 3 years old, and he heard his mother playing the piano. He has an impeccably tuned ear, giving him the ability to compose gorgeous pieces. He also keeps on forgetting to mention the fact that he can sing." My father told the Smythe's.
"Really? Now this is something I can't wait to hear." Richard proclaimed.
"I'm going to be honest here, we would love to adopt Barry. I myself am unable to have a child of my own, and you seem like an amazing and intelligent child, and frankly perfect. You are fluent in French, and musically gifted. However, there are a few legal troubles." Hannah told them.
"Such as?" Father asked.
"As you may be able to tell, we are quite wealthy, and with wealth comes publicity. If we were to adopt Barry, he would have to legally change his name, only until he turns 18." Richard informed them.
"I don't follow." My father admitted.
Hannah was quick to elaborate, "If word were to get out that the child we adopted was the son of a convicted murderer, no offense, it would cause a political riot, and be detrimental to both of our jobs and positions. For this reason, and matters of Barry's own personal safety, our PR agent and lawyer have both agreed that the only way we could go through the adoption, would be if Barry legally changed his name. You would need to sign a contract, and it will grant you the ability to change your name back once you are 18, and are no longer a minor. Of course, it's up to you."
It took me a minute to process everything she just told me, and when I did understand, I was not happy, "I am not ashamed to be an Allen. My father is innocent!"
"And we believe you Barry. Trust me, we went through your fathers case before we even met you, and meeting your father now has only cemented his innocence. But in order to protect you and your father, it has to be done." Hannah told us.
"I agree with Mrs. Smythe, it's really your only viable option." Mr. Wilson said.
"Then I approve." My father said.
"What!?" I cried. I couldn't believe this!
"Barry, they are right, you are never going to live a normal life if you keep the same name. Mr. and Mrs. Smythe, I thank you for believing in my innocence. Other then Barry, you are the only ones who do. More so, I thank you for doing this for Barry." My father informed them.
Now that I had slightly calmed down, I see that it really is the only option. "So what would my name be? If we go though with this." I asked.
"Well, that's up to you. Your last name has to be Smythe of course, and you can't keep Bartholomew, but other then that you can choose." Richard said.
"Sebastian then. Sebastian Smythe. It's the name Nora wanted if we ever were to have a second child." Father said.
Sebastian Smythe. I liked the ring to that. I nodded my approval.
"Sebastian Smythe is it. I'll draw up the contract as soon as possible. The faster the adoption pulls through, the better." Richard said. Finally, something I could actually agree with.
"Then I guess I have to get used to the name Sebastian." I said.
"I guess so." My father agreed.
We continued to converse for another hour or so, going over other legal matters. When we all said our good byes, I was taken back to the orphanage. Walking into the room I shared with four other foster brothers, I grabbed a paper and pen, and wrote across the middle of the page, "Sebastian Smythe." Oh yeah, I could definitely get used to that.