Chapter 11 – Different

Six years ago

"Just look what he did!"

Sonic hid in the cool dark of the workshop, wedged in between two crates, back pressed to the wall, and covered his ears at the angry shouts of the villagers outside. They'd seen him run in here, of course, but he was still small enough that he could squeeze into some pretty tight spaces. Wait for the storm to blow over.

Again.

If it would blow over.

And Uncle Chuck had stopped them right at the workshop door. Hadn't let them come in, despite how much Old Man Lewis shouted or brandished his uprooted parsnips.

Uncle Chuck hummed noncommittally.

That only seemed to irritate Old Man Lewis more, based on the audible teeth grinding. "He tore through my wife's vegetable patch today! Months of work, ruined!"

Murmurs of agreement from the other villagers. Someone added, "My washing!" Someone else chimed in with "The footpaths!"

Sonic curled up tighter, tucked his head between his knees in a spiky blue ball.

"He's still learning his limits," Uncle Chuck said softly. Calmly. "Control takes time."

"Excuses!"

"I'll have a word with him again."

"Your word isn't good enough! How many times has he done this now, and all you do is talk to him!"

A pause. "And what would you have me do, then?"

"We don't want his kind in the village!"

Sonic flinched.

Uncle Chuck hesitated longer this time, but when he spoke, his voice was still level. Still soft. Always unflappable. "And what kind would that be?" The question had the barest of edges to it.

Uneasy mumbling. No one wanted to speak up right away. Sonic could hear his uncle's foot tapping steadily. Waiting.

Sonic didn't want to hear the answer. He already knew it.

"Freaks. Like. Him." Old Man Lewis bit each word off like a curse.

Sonic felt his eyes burn with tears.

No one wanted him here.

He always made a mess when he ran. Too fast for the village, too young for the forests, an outsider. No one else had abilities like his. No one else wanted to be near someone with abilities like his. The adults stared at him and spoke about him behind his back. The children bullied him or refused to play with him. If he pushed back, the adults yelled. If he ran away, they took it as proof he didn't belong.

Only Uncle Chuck put up with him. But he was one adult, and he was frequently busy with work. Uncle Chuck couldn't force the children to play with Sonic, or make the adults like him. All he could do was deal with the fallout when Sonic got in trouble.

Again.

How long before even his patience ran out?

"Are you all really here to gang up on a little kid just because he's a bit different?" Uncle Chuck's voice cut through the silence like a hot knife, though he didn't raise his voice at all.

Old Man Lewis sputtered in protest. "But...he...a 'bit' different?"

"Aside from an exceptional running speed, Sonic is just as normal as anyone else in the village."

"The other children don't destroy things just by being near them!"

"Neither does Sonic. He just needs guidance."

"He needs to leave town!"

"Are you suggesting I leave the village too, Hampton?"

"What? No! Just send the little terror away!"

A whimper caught in Sonic's throat, turned into a soft hiccup. A sniffle.

Uncle Chuck sighed. "And where would he go?"

"I don't care! Anywhere but here!"

"And the rest of you? Do you all feel this way too?"

Silence. Then the sound of shuffling feet. Nervous? Backing away? Sonic couldn't tell, didn't want to leave the protection of his hiding space to risk seeing. To risk their glares turning on him again. He rubbed furiously at his wet cheeks.

"That's what I thought," Uncle Chuck finally said. "Seems you're alone in this, Hampton. You know why he's here. If he leaves, I leave too."

Old Man Lewis stumbled over a few ineffectual protests, then cut off with a frustrated "Urrgh!" Sonic heard him stomp away, heard his voice fade as it retreated down the footpath. "I don't want to see his face around my home again!"

"The rest of you have my apologies," Uncle Chuck said to the other villagers. "I'll bring Sonic around later to fix what he damaged."

The villagers didn't sound entirely pleased with the arrangement, but their grumbling trailed off as they apparently left. One or two must have stayed behind, because there was a further soft murmur of voices outside the door, too low to make out clearly. Sonic caught brief snatches of "adjusting slowly" and "just a child" and "such a pity," before these voices too departed, and the workshop was left to silence.

Sonic didn't move.

He heard his uncle moving around the workspace. Opening a few windows for natural light, putting away things that had scattered when Sonic had sought refuge here in the one place he felt safe in the village.

Uncle Chuck's boot scraped on the sandy floor near Sonic's hiding place. Sonic didn't look up, didn't uncurl from his spiky ball. He wanted to disappear. To stay there until everyone forgot about him. Maybe even until he turned to dust and blew away on the wind so he couldn't bother anyone again.

A hand slipped among the quills and gently brushed Sonic's shoulder. "Hey," his uncle said softly, almost too soft to hear. "There you are, Sonny."

Sonic hunched further, shook his head.

Uncle Chuck sighed. "I'm sorry you heard that." His thumb rubbed circles against Sonic's shoulder. The repetitive motion was soothing. "Tell me what happened?"

Sonic shook his head again.

"That's fine." Uncle Chuck sounded disappointed, but he didn't press the issue. "They've left."

Sonic nodded. Tiny, timid. He sniffled.

They sat in silence for a while. Uncle Chuck didn't push. Didn't demand Sonic leave his hiding spot, or talk, or anything. He just sat there with Sonic, rubbing small circles against his fur.

The tears on Sonic's cheeks eventually dried.

Sonic lifted his head, just a little. Looked up at his uncle with sore, tight eyes.

Uncle Chuck gave him a sad, reassuring smile, and ruffled the quills on his head. Then he frowned as his gaze fell lower. "Looks like you've worn through another pair of shoes."

Sonic looked down at his feet, at the tattered remains of his most recent set of footwear. Holes gaped in the thin soles, the rubber separating from the uppers at the front of both to expose his filthy socks. One blue toe peeked out through a rip in the knitting. The laces had snapped and been knotted together until there was almost nothing left to keep them on his feet, and the sides were all scraped up and near-shredded in places.

"I tripped," Sonic finally admitted. "My shoe caught, and I fell into Mrs. Wren's laundry lines."

"And the other messes?"

Sonic nodded.

"Hm." Uncle Chuck looked thoughtful. "We'll have to find a better way for you to practice, but maybe we can solve this little problem, at least." He tweaked Sonic's exposed toe, and Sonic actually laughed when it tickled. "I think I have a few ideas for a sturdier pair of sneakers."

"Red?" Sonic looked hopeful.

"Sure, we can make them red." Uncle Chuck stood, and held out a hand to his nephew.

Not judging. Not angry.

No matter what, that gesture said, Sonic was safe here. Welcome here. Wanted here.

Maybe that was enough.