Chapter Seven: Five Years Later
Cathy sat inside the office of the elementary school's principal, looking over her shoulder and through the glass window at Chris. He was sitting in a chair in the main office, waiting to go home. His eyes were red from crying, he sat low in the chair, swinging his feet and keeping his hands in his lap. There was nothing that he wanted more than to be hugged and told that everything was going to be all right, and that is exactly what Cathy wanted to do and she would have were it not for the principal who sat in front of her.
Chris was in trouble. Again.
The principal sat there and explained to Cathy that her son had been told not to move from his mat during naptime, that being one of the strictest rules in the classroom so that the teacher could make sure that every child was where they were supposed to be. Chris, though, did not seem to listen to his teacher and decided that he wanted to get up and paint. When asked about this, the six-year old told his teacher, principal and mother that he was sleeping and never left his mat.
"You son, Ms. Knight, never seems to like to do what he is told," the principal said, his voice cold and uncaring. "I receive complaints from his teacher almost everyday, informing me of something else he has done. One minute he is in one spot, then he is in another, he daydreams to the point of not being able to respond when his name is called, toys are found as if they were blown to pieces when he is near by. I am only afraid that the list could go on and on. Something has to be done, Ms. Knight."
Cathy nodded. "I understand, but I still do not think that all of these things could be done by Chris. He really is a good boy."
"I have no doubt that to you he is a wonderful child, but here he is nothing but a menace. The other children in his class don't' wish to associate with him and he runs crying to his teacher claiming that he calls him names."
"He tells me that he does and my son does not lie," Cathy stated. She sighed and looked through the window at Chris again. She knew he wasn't as bad as the principal said he was, and she did not believe that he was capable of doing some of the things the principal said he did, but Cathy did know one thing: Chris was different.
Ever since he was a baby, she could tell. There were evenings where she walked into the nursery and Chris had toys in his crib that she knew were out of reach for him. On a few occasions Cathy could have sworn she saw a toddler Chris standing in the middle of her office building at work and then vanish right before her eyes. And then there were the days where it seemed that time had stopped...
The principal shook his head. "I am sorry, Ms. Knight, but I am afraid that I am going to have to ask you to remove your son from this school and find another place to further his education."
Cathy's eyes grew wide with anger. "You're expelling him? He's six years old! I would understand if he were older and really were causing trouble, but this is uncalled for. If Chris said he was on his mat at naptime then he was on his mat at naptime!"
"Ms. Knight, there is no need to argue about this."
"Damn right there isn't," Cathy stated, pushing her chair out from behind her. "You know, I don't think I want my son in a place like this."
With that, Cathy slammed the office door behind her, took Chris' hand and left the school. She drove home in a furry and all but shook the house down when she slammed every door that was I her path. Chris merely stood back and watched, not knowing what to say. He left her alone for the afternoon and it wasn't until late in the evening when he finally went to her.
"Mommy?"
Cathy was seated at the kitchen table, hunched over the unread mail. Her hair was a mess and here were bags under her eyes. Hearing her son call her she glanced over at him. "What is it, Christopher?"
"I wanted to tell you that I was sorry, but I couldn't help it," he said.
"Couldn't help what?"
"I went to my mat like teacher told me to, but I hadn't finished my painting and I wanted to," Chris began. "I tried to go to sleep like the other kids, and I think I did, but the next thing I knew I was at my painting. I looked back and I saw myself on my mat."
"Chris, what are you trying to tell me, that you were in two places at once?" Cathy asked. She shook her head. This was something that she did not need at the moment. Chris was far too old to be playing games like these. But there was something in his voice that made her want to believe him.
"I don't know," he said, finally. "Mommy, I'm scared. I'm not like the other kids."
"I know, sweetheart," Cathy said, ruffling his hair. "Everybody is different."
Chris shook his head. "Not like me. I can do things that the other kids can't. All those things the principal said...they really did happen."
Cathy got out of her seat and knelt in front of Chris. "Honey, there is no way that you could have been in two places at once or that you could have blown up toys or don't anything else that he said. I know you are special, but that doesn't mean you have special powers."
Chris looked away. "I think I do."
Cathy was about to say something, anything that sounded smart enough for her young son to understand that would keep him from talking this way. Special powers? There was no such thing and she was trying to think of a way to explain this to Chris, but he walked away from her before she could. Confused, Cathy followed Chris into the living room. He knew that the conversation was not over and normally he wouldn't leave unless he was told to.
"Chris, what are you doing?"
"I want to prove that I have magic powers," he answered, matter-o-factly.
"Chris I told you, you don't have any magical or special pow-"
Cathy was then caught off guard, along with Chris as Max barked as a car outside sped down the street. The bark scared Chris so much that he threw up his hand over his face, as if to protect himself from the barking, but in the process, the bowl of wax fruit that sat on the table in front of him exploded, causing pieces of wax to fall around the room. With wide eyes, Cathy stared at the mess, not knowing what had just happened.
"Chris...did you..."
"See, I told you I was different."
