The pages of the notebook were cramped with uneven handwriting, and funny little drawings of people in old-fashioned clothing. If I weren't so afraid about what Gabriel might do to me if he found out I was reading his old journal, I probably would have laughed out loud. I must not have been too nervous though, because I soon found myself squinting to decipher the messy handwriting:
I had a nightmare and wet the bed last night. Father told me wetting the bed is a childish habit, and it needs to stop if I want to keep taking art classes. I really hope it stops!
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My office seemed empty when I walked in, but there was an odd feeling about it. I could hear strange tittering sounds coming from under my desk. There was no sign of the boy.
"Christopher?" I called out awkwardly, "Are you there?"
The tittering was replaced by a small squeak and a loud BANG. I was astonished to find Christopher climbing out from under my desk of all places, awkwadly brushing imaginary dust off his clothing. He must have bumped his head on the bottom of my desk. His face was incredibly red, and he seemed to be trying hard not to laugh. I felt anger welling up inside of me, only to be pushed down by the castle spells.
"Hello Gabriel, I hope you're having a good day," said Christopher conversationally, "Pleasant dreams, I should hope." There was something strange about the way he was looking at me, with a wicked grin on his face. He'd been up to something. I decided to ignore his comment. Children could be incredibly illogical at times.
"May I ask what, exactly, was going through your head when you decided to run off and put my entire staff in an uproar searching for you? That was very inconsiderate, Christopher."
That wiped the smile off Christopher's face! I watched as a look of fear played briefly across his face, before being replaced by haughty rage.
"I wasn't trying to bother you," he said coldly, "I was trying to help Millie. But you wouldn't listen, you never do."
The boy was getting the wrong idea of himself again. This was a tendency of his, trying to do things that were meant for adults. Sometimes I thought that he was so busy trying to grow up, that he forgot to enjoy his childhood. In the words of a poet from world 12 B, "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may".
"Did you ever think, that finding Millie may not have been your duty? Did you ever think that it may have been a job to leave to the adults?" I asked, trying to set him straight.
"I-" began Christopher, the first word to what I knew would be hundreds of meaningless excuses.
"Of course not," I interrupted. Much to my suprise, he burst out in a sarcastic rage that was all his own.
"'Of course not' " he mimicked, "I'm not a child anymore Gabriel! Why do you treat me like one? You know I can hold my own!"
I closed my head and sighed. Good lord, the child was wearing me thin!
"Christopher, you broke into this very office and stole from my safe! If that's not childish, then I do not know what is."
"It was my life to steal!"
We went on like this for quite some time, arguing without ever getting anywhere. I realized that he would not admit that what he'd done was wrong. I was reminded of when he first came to the castle, as a ragamuffin little boy. Even younger than he was now. And maybe even more stubborn. I had to make him see the concequences of his actions.
"Christopher-"
"Go to hell," he said. The phrase wasn't shouted in rage, nor did it sound panicked. It was a simple statement. The words seemed to grow larger and multiply many times, filling the room. I sighed and sat down at my desk.
"Go to your room Christopher. You are not to leave this castle until further notice. Kindly shut the door when you leave."
The boy stomped noisily out of my office and shut the door with a slam. I pushed the papers off my desk and leaned my head on the smooth, cool surface. It had been a hard day.