DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters created by Alexander Key and
owned by Walt Disney Pictures. This is fan fiction, and not endorsed by
Mr. Key, his estate, or Walt Disney. No copyright infringement is
intended, and no money is being made from this story. It is based on plot
elements used in both the book Escape to Witch Mountain as well as the
movie of the same name, although the book and the movie differ extensively.
Please direct all queries, comments, etc. to kevinpkhaynes@yahoo.com. It
is my sincere desire that you enjoy the story as the pure entertainment it
was intended to be.
LIFE ON WITCH MOUNTAIN
By Kevin Haynes
CHAPTER 9
He should have seen it coming. Tony had studied about life on the streets, he had heard that it can be dangerous to live in a big city, and he was out on the street, day after day, seeing how life unfolded there. It shouldn't have surprised him.
But why would anyone rob him? He just didn't expect it. A kind gentleman wanted to buy a painting, and as he handed Tony the thirty dollars, Tony didn't want to stuff it in his pocket until he first had given the man the painting. So he carefully set the money onto his easel, wedged in between the edge of the easel and the canvas still on it. He turned around to pick up the painting from among those along the wall, and he heard footsteps run past him quickly.
Instinctively he turned around, and the money was gone. The man buying the painting was standing there, looking down the street where the thief had run. The thief wasn't that far away, and Tony saw him. He was shocked! The boy couldn't be any older than 12 or 13. He was dressed in jeans with holes in them, baggy jeans at that, a large t-shirt, a baseball cap on backward, and shoes that weren't tied.
That last item worked to Tony's advantage. If the shoes had been tied, the boy could have run faster and been around the corner before Tony could do anything. Tony handed the painting to the buyer, then off running to catch the boy. As he ran, he focused his concentration on the boy's shoelaces. Though the boy was completely unaware of what was happening, his shoelaces began to move on their own. The laces on his right shoe began to wrap around his left leg, and those on the left shoe headed toward his right leg. Just as he was about to go around the corner, two things happened. He glanced toward Tony's stand and realized that Tony was running toward him. At that same instant, his legs quit moving as the laces held them tight, and he fell forward.
He landed with such a thud that Tony was afraid he had hurt the boy. However, he had landed on his arms, which were quite scraped at the elbows, and was kicking his legs furiously, trying to get them apart from each other. He even tried scooting forward as Tony got near, probably afraid he would be going to jail.
As Tony arrived at the prone figure, he stopped to think - why was he doing this? He didn't have to have the money . his needs taken care of. Looking at the boy, he realized that the poor kid probably needed it more than he did. And Tony didn't want him to go to jail. So why did he do it? He really couldn't say.
Putting on a stern face, Tony looked down into the frightened eyes of the boy. Always compassionate, Tony's heart nearly broke as he saw that this boy wasn't much older than 10. The kid tried to look tough, but inside he was scared and desperate. Tony's face softened a bit as he reached down and took the money out of the boy's hand. "I believe this belongs to me."
After pocketing the bills, he reached down to grasp the boy's arm and help him up. The boy looked at him with some uncertainty, then let Tony pick him up. As he looked down at his shoelaces, shock crept across his expression. "How did that happen?" he asked loudly. Tony just said, "Are you OK?"
"Yeah, I guess so. Are you gonna call the cops?" he asked.
Somehow, Tony knew exactly what he was going to do. It just seemed right. "No," he replied. "I won't if you will do two things for me."
The boy looked suspiciously at Tony and said, "What?"
"Number one - tell me your name. Number two - if you need money, work for me instead of stealing it."
Dumbfounded, the boy said, slowly, "I'm Ty."
"Ty - nice to meet you. My name is Tony." Tony extended his hand, and Ty shook it, and then winced from the pain in his arms.
Tony said, "Come back to my stand. I have a rag and some water - we can clean up your wounds." Tony waited as Ty reached down to loosen the laces that were wrapped around his lower legs.
Then Ty numbly followed Tony as he headed back toward his easel. No one was watching - apparently New York City residents were used to petty theft and didn't pay much attention. Back at the easel, Tony got his water bottle out of his duffle bag, and then poured some water on one of his clean paint rags. He carefully, softly, cleaned to wounds on both of Ty's elbows. Ty grimaced and sucked in his breath once, but otherwise was still and silent.
Tony tried to make conversation. "So, Ty, how old are you? Do you go to school?"
"Um. well, I'm 11. And I used to go to school, but now I don't."
Tony tried to be nonchalant in his questions as he cleaned the boy's wounds. "Eleven and you don't go to school? Wow. Why did they let you stop? Are you too smart for everyone?" He smiled at Ty as he asked that.
Ty actually smiled back. "Nah, I'm not that smart." Then he stopped talking, and he got a very serious look on his face. "Do you really wanna know why I quit?"
Tony looked him directly in the eyes. "Yes, Ty, I'd really like to know."
The boy's eyes got misty, but no tears escaped, as he said, "I want to help my mom. Ever since my dad died, she has to work all the time. She can't afford no babysitter for me, and I hate school, so I decided to quit school and try to make some money. Only problem is no one would hire me."
Tony's eyes misted as well, but he wasn't sure it was a good idea for Ty to see him cry yet. Some of this might be an act, although deep down Tony didn't think so. He kept remembering how he had felt the night that Tia had salved his inner wounds, and how good it felt to be trusted and cared for. Something in him told him that Ty needed that, too.
"That's pretty cool, Ty, you wanting to help your mom. Does she know you quit school so you could work?"
"Nah. I didn't tell her that - I'm afraid she'd be mad. But I don't know what to do now. You're the first person I ever tried to steal from, and I couldn't even do that. I can't work and I can't steal. And how come you're being so nice to me?" He said the last phrase almost as an accusation.
Tony sat down on the ground, next to Ty, both of them leaning back against the building. "Well, Ty, believe it or not, when I was around your age, I was out on the street, too. Both my mom and dad died when I was real little, and I ended up out on the street running away from some bad people. Fortunately, I never had to steal - someone helped me out and even helped me find other members of my family. So in some ways I know how you feel, and how hard it is for you. And my offer still stands - do you want to work for me?"
Ty seemed genuinely interested, but also afraid to really believe in Tony's good intentions. "What would I do for you? I can't paint, and you don't seem to have anything else you do!"
"There are a lot of things I could use your help with. You can clean my brushes and my rags. You can pick up my canvases when the wind knocks them over. I can send you to the store with money and you can get me more brushes or supplies. And sometimes I might even send you to my apartment to get things I need there. I'll pay you $5 an hour and buy you lunch. But you have to always be honest with me - no lying and no stealing. Do we have a deal?"
Ty was almost drooling at the prospect. He asked one final question. "How long do I have to work every day?"
"You can work when you want to. When you're here, you get paid. When you're not, you don't. Also, some time I have to meet your mom. I just can't have you working for me and not tell her. She deserves to know. But for now, if it will keep you from stealing and from getting into trouble, I'd rather have you here, earning money honestly that you can use to help your mom. Deal?"
Ty actually showed his teeth in a huge grin. "Deal!" he said, as he stuck out his hand to dramatically shake Tony's hand.
LIFE ON WITCH MOUNTAIN
By Kevin Haynes
CHAPTER 9
He should have seen it coming. Tony had studied about life on the streets, he had heard that it can be dangerous to live in a big city, and he was out on the street, day after day, seeing how life unfolded there. It shouldn't have surprised him.
But why would anyone rob him? He just didn't expect it. A kind gentleman wanted to buy a painting, and as he handed Tony the thirty dollars, Tony didn't want to stuff it in his pocket until he first had given the man the painting. So he carefully set the money onto his easel, wedged in between the edge of the easel and the canvas still on it. He turned around to pick up the painting from among those along the wall, and he heard footsteps run past him quickly.
Instinctively he turned around, and the money was gone. The man buying the painting was standing there, looking down the street where the thief had run. The thief wasn't that far away, and Tony saw him. He was shocked! The boy couldn't be any older than 12 or 13. He was dressed in jeans with holes in them, baggy jeans at that, a large t-shirt, a baseball cap on backward, and shoes that weren't tied.
That last item worked to Tony's advantage. If the shoes had been tied, the boy could have run faster and been around the corner before Tony could do anything. Tony handed the painting to the buyer, then off running to catch the boy. As he ran, he focused his concentration on the boy's shoelaces. Though the boy was completely unaware of what was happening, his shoelaces began to move on their own. The laces on his right shoe began to wrap around his left leg, and those on the left shoe headed toward his right leg. Just as he was about to go around the corner, two things happened. He glanced toward Tony's stand and realized that Tony was running toward him. At that same instant, his legs quit moving as the laces held them tight, and he fell forward.
He landed with such a thud that Tony was afraid he had hurt the boy. However, he had landed on his arms, which were quite scraped at the elbows, and was kicking his legs furiously, trying to get them apart from each other. He even tried scooting forward as Tony got near, probably afraid he would be going to jail.
As Tony arrived at the prone figure, he stopped to think - why was he doing this? He didn't have to have the money . his needs taken care of. Looking at the boy, he realized that the poor kid probably needed it more than he did. And Tony didn't want him to go to jail. So why did he do it? He really couldn't say.
Putting on a stern face, Tony looked down into the frightened eyes of the boy. Always compassionate, Tony's heart nearly broke as he saw that this boy wasn't much older than 10. The kid tried to look tough, but inside he was scared and desperate. Tony's face softened a bit as he reached down and took the money out of the boy's hand. "I believe this belongs to me."
After pocketing the bills, he reached down to grasp the boy's arm and help him up. The boy looked at him with some uncertainty, then let Tony pick him up. As he looked down at his shoelaces, shock crept across his expression. "How did that happen?" he asked loudly. Tony just said, "Are you OK?"
"Yeah, I guess so. Are you gonna call the cops?" he asked.
Somehow, Tony knew exactly what he was going to do. It just seemed right. "No," he replied. "I won't if you will do two things for me."
The boy looked suspiciously at Tony and said, "What?"
"Number one - tell me your name. Number two - if you need money, work for me instead of stealing it."
Dumbfounded, the boy said, slowly, "I'm Ty."
"Ty - nice to meet you. My name is Tony." Tony extended his hand, and Ty shook it, and then winced from the pain in his arms.
Tony said, "Come back to my stand. I have a rag and some water - we can clean up your wounds." Tony waited as Ty reached down to loosen the laces that were wrapped around his lower legs.
Then Ty numbly followed Tony as he headed back toward his easel. No one was watching - apparently New York City residents were used to petty theft and didn't pay much attention. Back at the easel, Tony got his water bottle out of his duffle bag, and then poured some water on one of his clean paint rags. He carefully, softly, cleaned to wounds on both of Ty's elbows. Ty grimaced and sucked in his breath once, but otherwise was still and silent.
Tony tried to make conversation. "So, Ty, how old are you? Do you go to school?"
"Um. well, I'm 11. And I used to go to school, but now I don't."
Tony tried to be nonchalant in his questions as he cleaned the boy's wounds. "Eleven and you don't go to school? Wow. Why did they let you stop? Are you too smart for everyone?" He smiled at Ty as he asked that.
Ty actually smiled back. "Nah, I'm not that smart." Then he stopped talking, and he got a very serious look on his face. "Do you really wanna know why I quit?"
Tony looked him directly in the eyes. "Yes, Ty, I'd really like to know."
The boy's eyes got misty, but no tears escaped, as he said, "I want to help my mom. Ever since my dad died, she has to work all the time. She can't afford no babysitter for me, and I hate school, so I decided to quit school and try to make some money. Only problem is no one would hire me."
Tony's eyes misted as well, but he wasn't sure it was a good idea for Ty to see him cry yet. Some of this might be an act, although deep down Tony didn't think so. He kept remembering how he had felt the night that Tia had salved his inner wounds, and how good it felt to be trusted and cared for. Something in him told him that Ty needed that, too.
"That's pretty cool, Ty, you wanting to help your mom. Does she know you quit school so you could work?"
"Nah. I didn't tell her that - I'm afraid she'd be mad. But I don't know what to do now. You're the first person I ever tried to steal from, and I couldn't even do that. I can't work and I can't steal. And how come you're being so nice to me?" He said the last phrase almost as an accusation.
Tony sat down on the ground, next to Ty, both of them leaning back against the building. "Well, Ty, believe it or not, when I was around your age, I was out on the street, too. Both my mom and dad died when I was real little, and I ended up out on the street running away from some bad people. Fortunately, I never had to steal - someone helped me out and even helped me find other members of my family. So in some ways I know how you feel, and how hard it is for you. And my offer still stands - do you want to work for me?"
Ty seemed genuinely interested, but also afraid to really believe in Tony's good intentions. "What would I do for you? I can't paint, and you don't seem to have anything else you do!"
"There are a lot of things I could use your help with. You can clean my brushes and my rags. You can pick up my canvases when the wind knocks them over. I can send you to the store with money and you can get me more brushes or supplies. And sometimes I might even send you to my apartment to get things I need there. I'll pay you $5 an hour and buy you lunch. But you have to always be honest with me - no lying and no stealing. Do we have a deal?"
Ty was almost drooling at the prospect. He asked one final question. "How long do I have to work every day?"
"You can work when you want to. When you're here, you get paid. When you're not, you don't. Also, some time I have to meet your mom. I just can't have you working for me and not tell her. She deserves to know. But for now, if it will keep you from stealing and from getting into trouble, I'd rather have you here, earning money honestly that you can use to help your mom. Deal?"
Ty actually showed his teeth in a huge grin. "Deal!" he said, as he stuck out his hand to dramatically shake Tony's hand.