tree house. Their voices sounded far away. Like how his mother’s voice echoed when he put his ears under bathwater. Christopher strained to hear them. Until…
knocK. knocK. knocK.
Christopher turned toward the door. The sound vibrated through his teeth like chalk on a blackboard. Christopher looked back to his friends. They couldn’t hear the knocking. They just kept talking about how they were going to get power in the tree house for their toys and gadgets. Maybe batteries? Can refrigerators run on batteries?
knocK. knocK. knocK.
He inched toward the door. He put his ear up against it. At first, there was silence. Then, he heard a voice as clear as his friends were muddy.
christopher. psst. out here.
Christopher’s heart pounded. He went to the window. He strained his neck to see, but he could see nothing.
knocK. knocK. knocK.
Christopher stood on his tiptoes, trying to see the person, but he just heard the voice through the door.
christopher. it’s okay. it’s me. open the door.
Christopher took a hard swallow and inched toward the door. He didn’t want to open it, but he had to know if there really was a person standing there. Or if it was just another figment of his imagination. Was he outside of his own body? Or was he out of his mind?
Christopher opened the door.
The light outside was blinding. But Christopher could still see the face. The scars running up and down from a thousand cuts. A young man with an old soul. Or an older man with a young heart. The eyes were so blue. The face was so handsome.
It was the nice man.
“You’re real,” Christopher said in amazement.
“Hi, Christopher,” he said. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
The nice man offered his hand. Christopher took it and shook it. The nice man’s skin was soft and smooth. Like the cool side of the pillow.
“We only have an hour of daylight,” the nice man said. “Let’s go to work.”
Christopher looked back to see if his friends noticed the change. Could they see the nice man? Could they feel the open door? Did they know that there was a whole other side to the woods and the world? But their conversation never changed. They saw nothing. Just a tree house built by eight little hands. Christopher followed the nice man out of the tree house and closed the door. He walked down the little 2x4s like baby teeth. And followed the nice man through the clearing and out into the imaginary world.
Chapter 36
What happened to your fingers?” Christopher’s mother asked when she picked him up.
They were in the parking lot of the 3 Hole Golf course, standing with his friends and their mothers. The sun had finally set. The air was cold and crisp. Like a sensitive tooth.
“Nothing. Just some splinters,” Christopher replied.
“From a plastic sled?”
“A kid from school let us use his wooden one.”
Christopher’s mother looked at him for a quiet moment. Suspicion was too strong a word for the look in her eyes. But it was a close enough cousin.
“Which kid?” she asked.
“Kevin Dorwart. He’s in my homeroom,” he said without a blink.
That ended the questions for now. Just as he knew it would. Because there was something else he brought with him out of the imaginary world along with the splinters and the memory of the conversation that his body had with his three friends in the tree house. His mind was only in the imaginary world for an hour, but ever since he left it, there was this…
Itch.
An itch on his nose that he just couldn’t scratch because it wasn’t on his nose. It was in his brain. But even itch wasn’t the right word. Because an itch doesn’t also tickle and whisper and scratch. An itch doesn’t leave thoughts behind. The thoughts were like his old flash cards.
2 + 2 = 4
The capital of Pennsylvania is…Harrisburg.
But these flash cards were different. As he looked at his friends and their mothers, the itch flipped the flash cards quickly, like the man he once saw playing three-card monte on the street.
Special Ed’s mother is…
Special Ed’s mother is…a drunk.
Mike and Matt’s moms are…
Mike and Matt’s moms are…seeing a couples therapist.
“Christopher, are you all right?”
Christopher turned around. All of the mothers were staring at him. Worried. Christopher smiled a reassuring smile.
“I’m fine. Just a little headache,” he said. “I want to keep sledding.”
“Yeah. Can we?” the boys asked.
“Sorry, it’s getting late,” his mom said.
“Yeah. Say good night, boys. I have a bottle of white Zin at home with my