that, it was gone; all my rage and aggression flew out of me like air out of a popped balloon. I sank down onto the edge of my bed, too tired to yell anymore. Besides, something inside was telling me that this man didn’t deserve a beating from me. I had no idea where that hunch was coming from, and I didn’t like it. He was the enemy, and I had to be strong. Yet unnatural as it felt to show weakness, I also couldn’t fight it. I sat hunched over on the edge of my bed, staring up at the stranger in my room, hoping I didn’t look as lost and helpless as I suddenly felt.
He glanced toward the window and saw my chair. “May I?”
I nodded. He sat down and swiveled the seat so that he was facing me. He leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees, looking calmly at me.
“So?” he said with a small smile.
“So.”
“There are things I’d like to explain to you, as well as I can anyway.”
I made a small sweeping motion with my hand, letting him know he was welcome to begin. However, he shook his head. “I think we might make more progress with a question and answer session.”
“A what?”
“You ask me questions, and I’ll answer them. I’ll be honest, I prom–” he hesitated with a smile, “I pinky swear.” I huffed a laugh in spite of myself. “I just don’t want you to think that we mean Ryland any harm, because that couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“What I’m worried about is the difference in our definitions of the word ‘harm’. The people that want to lock him up and medicate him into a stupor don’t consider that to be ‘harming’ him either, but I certainly do.”
He nodded, but didn’t comment. His eyes never left mine, and I got the strange impression that he was really listening to me. Most people don’t listen. When you listen you hear the sounds and the silences. You hear the words people say, and the words they don’t say. Real listening takes more effort than most people are willing to give.
With a sigh, I decided to play his game. What could it hurt? Hell, maybe I’d even get a few answers along the way. “Who are you?” I asked after a moment, as that seemed the best place to start.
“My name is Alex Bray. The man with me is Taron Calgot. We both live at St Brigid’s Academy in County Clare, Ireland.”
“Wait, you live there? Like, all the time?”
“Yes. Taron works as one of the lecturers, and I work in… recruitment.” His pause seemed odd, but I let it go. “I have also taken many of the upper level classes that St Brigid’s offers, and would like to one day be brought on as a teacher.”
“And what do you want with my brother?”
“We want to help him. We really do understand. Ryland has… abilities. Abilities he can’t control yet. He can do things that the average person can’t. That’s why we want to take him to St Brigid’s, so he can be with others who are like him, and learn to control his abilities in a safe environment.”
He finished and was silent, waiting for my next question, but I was at a loss for words. This was definitely a new one. He hadn’t said anything about “fixing” Ryland; he’d simply said “control”. I could admit it sounded promising, but I knew better than to get my hopes up.
“How do you know all this?” I asked.
“Because,” he paused and looked at me as if to gauge my reaction, “I have abilities too. I’m like Ryland, and so is Taron, and your father.” He must have seen my eyes flash at the term “father” as he quickly continued. “And there are others. We all have abilities that the normal person doesn’t have.”
“And, exactly what do you mean by ‘abilities’?” I asked, growing more skeptical by the minute. “Please don’t tell me you’re talking about comic book-style stuff, like x-ray vision, or flying.”
“Well…” Alex paused, as though he were afraid to continue. “No one can fly, at least not that I’m aware of.”
I stared at him, waiting for him to smile, as obviously this was a joke. But he just sat there, looking back at me without so much as a smirk. “You’re serious with this?” I asked, after I was sure there was no punchline coming.