Chapter Four

Dr. Timothy Edwards stood and shook hands with the Eppes as they entered his office. Once they had taken a seat, he sat behind his desk and pulled a file closer to him.

"I know you're anxious to hear the results, so I'll dispense with the formalities," Edwards stated. "I've been over them several times, and to be honest, I'm still a little confused."

"What about?" Mary asked.

Edwards opened the file. "Charlie was given the same tests as when his genius was first diagnosed. Now, his scores should have stayed within a specific range, but his IQ seems to have dropped severely."

"I don't understand what you're saying," Alan stated. "Are you telling me he's not gifted?"

"Not exactly," Edwards replied. "According to his test results, Charlie's IQ is actually lower than other boys and girls his age. It tells me that Charlie is actually operating on a pre-kindergarten level."

Mary shook her head. "That can't be right."

Edwards set the file aside and folded his hands before him. "I'm inclined to agree. That's why I would like a psychologist to come in and speak with Charlie. I believe whatever difficulties Charlie is experiencing isn't from a drop in IQ. It could be stress. But we won't know unless someone can speak with him."

Alan and Mary exchanged glances, then nodded.

Edwards smiled reassuringly. "I actually have someone in mind. She's one of the best in her field. I'll send her over some of the pictures Charlie drew for his test and have her take a look at them. Hopefully, we can get some answers for you pretty soon."


Charlie looked up at the person who entered the playroom, his brown eyes studying the newcomer with curiosity and suspicion. He knew he had failed his test, and he had hoped that that would be enough to convince the doctors and his parents that he was a normal boy, but for some reason, they wanted him to speak with this new doctor.

She was a young woman, in her mid-twenties, with long blond hair tied up in a ponytail. She had a wide, trusting expression on her face, her blue eyes sparkling with good humor. She smiled welcomingly at Charlie as she took a chair across from him.

"Hi, Charlie, I'm Alex," she introduced herself. "I'm just here to talk to you about a couple things."

Charlie nodded. He didn't feel comfortable enough to talk.

Alex didn't seem put off by his lack of response. "So, Charlie, I understand that you have some very special gifts for someone your age."

"Had."

A thin eyebrow quirked up. "Had. How does it make you feel, now that they're all gone?"

Charlie shrugged. "I guess I'll have to go back to being a normal kid, for a change."

Alex nodded. "Yes, you would definitely get to be with own kids your age. Go to grade school, no longer be with your brother at the high school." She took note of the slight flicker of emotion in Charlie's expressive eyes. "Can I ask you something, Charlie?"

Charlie shrugged again.

"Are you close with your brother?"

The flicker again. Charlie swallowed hard and glanced to the side. "Sometimes."

Alex nodded knowingly. "It's hard for siblings to get along. I never got along with my brother, but we're great friends now. I bet it's harder for you, though, with your gifts."

"They're not a problem anymore," Charlie pointed out.

"Were they?"

Charlie fidgeted, and Alex knew she was getting close to the root of Charlie's problems. She saved Charlie from having to answer, not wanting him to shut down on her. Instead, she decided to change the direction of the conversation, see if she could get Charlie to speak more. "What's your brother's name?"

"Donnie."

"Do you two do things together?"

Charlie stared at her curiously. Finding nothing but honest interest in her face, he answered the question. "He's teaching me to play basketball."

"You any good?" Alex wanted to know.

A small smile graced Charlie's lips. "Yeah, Donnie's a great teacher. He taught me everything, and he lets me win sometimes, even though I'm getting better at it. He even promised he would take me to an actual game sometime. I can't wait. It'll be so much fun. We'd be like normal brothers, like everyone else."

Alex caught the word 'normal' again, and filed it away for future reference. "When was the last time you two played together?"

The smile and ease that was slowly growing on Charlie suddenly faded sharply away. He looked down at the tabletop, not meeting Alex's eyes. "Um . . . n-not for awhile."

"Oh?" Alex replied. "How come?"

Charlie was silent for a long moment before responding. "He, um . . . he's been r-really busy with school, and baseball p-practice, and . . ."

Alex shifted the focus yet again. "Baseball? Is Donnie a good baseball player?"

Charlie's head shot up. "He's the best player they've got!" he avowed with the conviction only a loyal little brother possessed.

"Ever watch him practice?" Alex asked.

Charlie froze. Alex could see tears start to well up in Charlie's eyes before he ducked his head again. "Um . . . . no."

Alex's eyes flickered to the two-way mirror on the opposite wall, where she knew Charlie's parents and Dr. Edwards were watching the whole scene. "Well, Charlie, thank you for answering my questions. I truly enjoyed talking to you, and I hope everything works out like you hope."

Charlie nodded, not looking up. Rising, Alex moved to the door and headed for the observation room.

Mary met her on her way out the door. "Excuse me," she said, hurrying past Alex.

Alex let her pass, then approached Alan and Edwards. Before either man could speak, Alex focused on Alan. "Mr. Eppes, could I ask you a couple questions?"

Alan nodded, worry plain on his face. "Go ahead. Whatever might help."

"Can you tell me about Don and Charlie's relationship?" she asked.

Alan ran a hand through his dark hair. "Don's eight years older than Charlie. Charlie just adores Don; always has. Please, what's going on with my son?"

Alex nodded as she processed the information. "I think I may have an answer for you. At least, a part of one. I believe part of the problem lies in that relationship. Charlie obviously loves his brother, but when I asked about them spending time together, he became evasive. Have they had a falling out recently?"

Alan shook his head, eyes focused inward. "I don't think so. I haven't heard any arguments, and neither of my boys mentioned having a fight."

"Do you think this drop in IQ is genuine?" Edwards asked.

Alex shook her head. "No. He may be avoiding using his talents, but they show themselves in other ways. I saw those pictures of his you sent me before speaking with him, and the patterns he used are entirely too advanced for an eight-year-old boy. No, he's suppressing them on purpose, and I think it has something to do with a fight he and his brother may have had."

"What makes you so sure?" Alan asked, glancing through the mirror at his son. Mary had entered the playroom and was sitting with Charlie, speaking softly to him.

"The way he's fixated on being normal," Alex replied. "Someone had to have planted that idea into his head, and combined with his reactions when I asked about his brother, I think the answer lies there. Is there any way to have Don and Charlie come in for a joint observation and evaluation?"

Alan nodded, still looking through the mirror at his son. Charlie, as if feeling his father's eyes on him, looked up at the mirror.


Don glanced around the room for what seemed like the millionth time, still wondering what he was doing here. His parents had explained how the doctors had wanted to speak with the both of them together, but he couldn't imagine why. Charlie was the one who was special; he had nothing to do with that.

Charlie was sitting on the other side of the room at the table, staring down at the paper before him. He hadn't spoken a word to Don, but to be fair, Don hadn't said anything to Charlie, either. The room was completely and utterly quiet, and the silence was beginning to grate on Don's nerves.

"So how much longer do you suppose this doctor will be?" Don asked, his voice holding impatience in its tone.

Charlie shrugged, scribbling something on the paper.

Don's brow furrowed, and he drew nearer to his brother. "What're you doing? Math?"

Charlie shook his head emphatically. "Why would I do that? I can't do it anymore."

Don rolled his eyes and sat at the table. "Come on, Charlie, admit it. This is all a scam to get everyone to focus on you again, to get their attention."

Charlie's shoulders tightened with tension. "I told you, Donnie. The math's gone. I'm a normal kid again."

Don snorted. "If that were true, then we wouldn't even be here. So why don't you snap out of this, admit you've been lying all this time, and we can go home."

Charlie gripped his pencil so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. "I can't do that, Donnie."

"Oh yeah?" Don snapped back. "Why not?"

"Aren't you listening?" Charlie demanded, dropping his pencil and looking up at Don. "The math is gone! I'm not special anymore! I'm not a freak! I'm just a normal kid, just like you wanted me to be!"

Don stared in shock at Charlie. Charlie, slowly realizing what it was he had said, paled and jumped to his feet. He crossed over to the door, but Don leaped up and grabbed his arm, stopping him. He knelt on the ground and turned his brother around to face him.

Charlie tried to shake off Don's hands, but Don tightened his grip. "What did you just say?" Don asked quietly.

"Nothing," Charlie muttered. "Forget it."

"Charlie, what did you just say?" Don repeated, more forcefully.

Tears spilled onto Charlie's cheeks, and he finally met his brother's gaze. "You said you wished I were normal, and that I weren't a freak, and now I'm not, and you still hate me, and I don't know what to do anymore, I can't figure out what you want, and-."

"Hey, hey," Don interrupted Charlie's sudden flow of words. "Where did you get the idea that I hate you?"

Charlie sniffed and rubbed his eyes. "You're always mad at me. I know my math makes you mad, and I tried not to do it anymore, but it's so hard. I'm so sorry, Donnie, I promise I won't use it again! I'll be a normal kid, and I'll stop doing the math. Please, don't be mad at me anymore. I'll do better, I swear I will!"

Their argument from over a week ago flashed through Don's mind, and he felt a large wave of guilt flood through him. He pulled Charlie into a fierce hug, feeling his brother start to cry into his shoulder.

"Oh, Charlie, I'm so sorry," he said. "I never should have said those things to you. I was upset, but I never should have taken it out on you. You didn't do anything wrong. You've never done anything but be a great brother to me, even after I treated you so horribly."

Charlie wrapped his arms tightly around Don's neck, clutching at his brother's shirt. "I didn't mean to make you so upset at the baseball practice. I just wanted to help."

"I know, Buddy, I know," Don replied. "And you did. I was just jealous."

"Jealous?" Charlie echoed. "Of what?"

"Of you." Don pulled back and looked into Charlie's stunned eyes. "You're so smart, and you were able to figure all that stuff out about how I should stand and where, and after only a few minutes. I have to work twice as hard as you at the same thing, just to break even with you."

Charlie frowned, still confused. "But . . . Donnie, you've got all those friends, and you're so popular- everybody likes you, and you're, like, the best athlete in the school!"

Don chuckled. "I guess I don't see it that way. Maybe I should. Listen, Buddy, don't pretend and hide your gifts anymore. Your math is a part of who you are, and if you hide that, you're not being honest with yourself. You should always be proud of the things that you can do. Don't let stupid people like your big brother make you ashamed of that, all right?"

Charlie's expression became indignant. "You're not stupid, Donnie!"

"No, but I was doing a great impression of it these past couple of weeks." Don stood and lifted his brother up into his arms. "Are we better now?"

Charlie nodded and wrapped his arms back around Don, resting his head on his brother's shoulder. "Does this mean we can go home now?"

Don sighed wearily, knowing he was in for a long talk with his parents. "Yeah, Buddy, let's go home."