The Wayward Gifted - Broken Point (3 page)

“Yes!” Sam shouted.

“The pirates would be stuck with Mother
forever.”

Sam and Steuart giggled as they
continued to embellish the story. Then they became quiet again.

Steuart sat in the darkness and looked
at his sister, “I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I’ve always felt like this
house is full of magic.” He looked around the porch. “This is my favorite
room.”

“Mine too.”

“With the oaks out there it feels like
we’re sitting in a big tree house. We’re part of this place.”

“I love it too.” Sam looked at her
brother and folded her arms. “I think I’m beginning to understand what
Grandmother means when she says,
Steuart,
you’re an old soul.”

“Whatever,” Steuart shrugged his
shoulders. “There won’t be a sleeping porch. There won’t be a bay in our
backyard. And we won’t be able to go crabbing every morning. They probably
don’t even have oysters in the Midwest.”

“I hate oysters. You do too.”

“I’m talking about the crack of oysters
under car wheels when people come to visit. I like the way it sounds.”

“I don’t like walking on those things barefooted.”

“That’s why we have flip-flops. Of
course we won’t need those anymore. The new drive is made of cement. Did you
know that?” Steuart put his hands to his face. “I’ve heard they don’t have
grits, and they don’t drink sweet tea up there. They’ve probably never eaten
seafood. Can you imagine that? They might not know what it is.”

“I’m sure they have seafood in Maybell.
It might not be as good as what we know, but I’m sure they have it.”

“Of course it won’t be as good. I don’t
even like the name of that place. I found Maybell on the map. Have you looked?”

“No.”

“It’s land-locked. It’s a long way from
any ocean or gulf.”

“But not far from the Great Lakes.”

“Who cares about a silly lake?”

“It won’t be like the water in Atchison
Bay, but…” Sam shrugged, “We might be pleasantly surprised.”

“
Idle
gab
.”

“Good one. What’s wrong with a lake?”

“Lakes are fresh water. They don’t
count.”

“Who says? What’s the problem with fresh
water?”

 
“I say.” Steuart glared at his sister. “I
don’t like it. There’s no salt.”

“Have you ever been to a lake?”

Steuart didn’t respond.

“We need to give the place a chance.”

“Says who?”

“We have to go. We might as well make
the best of things.”

“It’s going to be so cold. We’ll have
to learn to walk around in snow and ice. I’m not sure how I feel about
snowshoes.”

“We’re not moving to the North Pole. I
doubt that we’ll need snowshoes. Think about the fun we’ll have making snowmen
and ice forts.”

“We’ll probably get snowed-in and
starve to death.”

“Let’s see how it goes before we decide
to hate the place.”

“I’m not ready to do that.”

“I think you’re right about the
shells.”

“Why are you talking about shells? They
won’t have shells. They’ll have ice.”

“I’m talking about the oyster shells.
They’re definitely better than a doorbell.”

Steuart bent down and looked under the
bed. He reached for a box of action figures and began playing. “How can
grown-ups do these things to kids without thinking about how we feel? It’s not
right.”

“Mother doesn’t have to think about
us.”

“Why not?”

“Because we go with her. That’s all.”

Steuart threw an action figure onto the
bed. “She doesn’t want me to take these guys.”

“Did she say that? What did she say?”

“
Steuart,
you are now ten years old. It is time for you to put your toys and childish
ideas away in a box. You need to begin concentrating on the concerns of a
growing young man. You will quickly learn that well-adjusted men never play
with toys or dolls.
Then she read a passage from her book as a way of
proving her point.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“It’s irritating.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do
anything. Mother’s the one making our lives miserable. She’s clueless about
these things. Can you believe she calls these dolls? This is not a doll. This
is an action figure.” Steuart stood and held the figure high above his head.
“Meet my friend and esteemed colleague, Captain Crandall of the Creighton
Clones.”

“Hello,” Sam said.

“He is, undeniably, one of the greatest
super heroes of the modern day universe. Captain Crandall is the biggest and
the best. He is the strongest and he is the most highly intelligent of all
super heroes. This man can do anything. Imagine calling him a doll.” Steuart
sat down.

“I understand. She won’t let you have
action figures. She won’t let me have paints.”

“True.”

Sam hugged her knees. “My special day
is soon. I’m asking for a paint set.”

“Are you serious? You’ve forgotten
about the
art incident?
”

“Mother can’t hold a grudge forever.”

“Yes she can. Of course she can.”

“She might buy it. I keep telling her
how badly I want to paint.”

“What planet did you come from? Are we
talking about the same person? Ask the neighbors. Ask her former friends. Ask
anyone who knows Mother.” Steuart stood, flew his action figure through the air
and circled the room twice before pouncing, stomach first, onto the bed. “Our
mother holds grudges every second of every minute, of every hour, of every day,
of every week, of every month, of every…”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Sam put up her
hands. “I get it. I understand.”

“Mother holds grudges for grudges that
she’s not even thought of holding grudges for yet. She coined the phrase
burn bridges before blood.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not. You’ve heard her.”

“I’d rather not think about that. I
don’t think it’s an original phrase.”

“Maybe I’m giving her too much credit.”
Steuart shook his head, “But that doesn’t change things. You should give up the
idea of asking for art supplies. You’ll be disappointed again. She’ll never
change her mind.”

“That was years ago.” Sam leaned back, stretched
against the headboard and yawned. “I was
little
.
Besides, I’m her daughter. Eventually, she’ll have to let it go.”

“We’re not talking about Olivia DuBoise
are we? Help me here.”

Sam glared at her brother.

“Mother holds grudges. She never lets
go. She likes to say that she can forgive but she’ll never forget.”

“Why are you being insistent about this?
Why are you trying to burst my bubble? All I want to do is explore my artistic
talents.”

“I’m not trying to burst your bubble,
or keep you from being artistic. I don’t want you being unrealistic and ending
up disappointed.”

“I’m just hoping.”

“Stop for a minute and think about the
art incident. Who always brings it up? I don’t bring it up. Grandmother never
brings it up. You certainly don’t bring it up. Only Mother talks about the mess
you made. And that happens anytime you ask for art supplies. You don’t even
have to ask. All you have to do is mention that you like a picture.”

Sam yawned again, and sighed loudly, “I
don’t know. I don’t even remember ruining everything in the house. I don’t
remember ruining anything.”

“That’s my point.”

“Either way, I’m asking for paints and
I’ll keep asking until she agrees. I’m almost a teenager.”

“So?”

“So, there’s nothing wrong with
asking.”

“
Uh,
twinkling fish
.”

“What’s that one?”

“Wishful thinking.” Steuart held
Captain Crandall high in the air. His voice went into razor sharp, deep,
gravely, action figure mode.
“Ma’am, do you
actually believe persistence and wishful thinking can penetrate the iron will
of Lady Olivia DuBoise? Maybe we’ll all travel through time to another world
and back again too.”

Sam half laughed.

Captain Crandall continued.
Maybe Olivia DuBoise is going to be hit over
the head. Maybe she will be hit over the head with a bottle which will not only
cause her to forget every single thing that makes her swear and complain, but
also cause her to make a public proclamation that Samantha Leigh and Steuart
James are, without question, the most wonderful children a mother could ever
have.”

“Ha.”

“Maybe
I’m not Captain Crandall, action figure extraordinaire, savior of the universe.
Perhaps I am a great deal more. Maybe I am alive. Maybe…”
Steuart stood, raced towards his
sister, and put the action figure directly in front of her face.
“Young lady, maybe I am—your father.”
Steuart
backed away and began running as he pretended to fly around the porch before
coming back and settling again onto the bed.

“I see,” Sam said softly.

“I don’t want to hurt your feelings. I
think we both know Mother buys things she finds on sale.”

“Probably.”

“Don’t forget her motto:
If it’s not a bargain, we don’t need it.”

Sam rolled her eyes, “Yeah, yeah, yeah,
another one from the handbook.”

“Have you ever read that thing?”

“I’ve looked at it a couple of times.”

“You touched it?
Aunty Ed rodeo
?”

Sam shook her head, “What?”

“You’re not dead?”

“She didn’t see me. I looked when she
was out of the room, and I put it down fast. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. She
tells us what she wants us to know. Between you and me, I’d like to burn the
stupid thing and give it a burial at sea.”

Steuart spoke through Captain Crandall,
“Abase ritual? Ma’am, don’t argue with
the handbook. Terrible things will happen.”

“Forget that, maybe just help her
misplace it during the move.”

“
I
hasten a tad
.” Steuart whispered a secret to Captain Crandall and then
looked at his sister.

Sam put her hands up. She shook her
head, “Don’t go there. We can’t do anything. Forget it. I wasn’t serious.”

“Forget what? I have no idea what you’re
talking about. I was thinking about your special day. Maybe Mother will find
the paints marked down.”

“We both know she buys what she wants
us to have, not what we ask for. The paints could be free and she’d still
decide against them.”

“True.”

“Ideas only work if they’re hers. I
guess I could save my money and buy them for myself, but unless she agrees…” Sam
let out another deep sigh and became silent. For a while, the children sat
quietly. Sam got up, walked to the edge of the porch and began looking out at
the bay.

Steuart broke the silence. “How often
do you think we’ll be able to come home?”

“I don’t know. If I told you anything
other than that, I’d be lying.”

Steuart began wrestling with his pillow
and pretended it was wrestling back. “Mother never listens to your ideas or
mine. She made the decision to move without asking our feelings. I’ll never
understand...” He stopped tugging at the pillow when he realized Sam was
watching.

“What are you doing?”

Steuart held it up for an introduction.
“This is my new pal, Leighton Jefferson Allnight O’Dowd. He’s my dinosaur. You
can call him
Sparky.”

“Why would I want to call your pillow
by a name?

“Because it’s important.”

“It’s a pillow.”

“No,” Steuart snapped, “You only think
you’re looking at a pillow. He...” Steuart stopped and looked around the room,
making sure that no one was listening. He leaned in close and lowered his voice
to a soft, slow and distinctive whisper, “He is only
dressed
as a pillow.”

“What?”

“It’s a
d-i-s-g-u-i-s-e
.”

Sam frowned, “Why is your pillow...?”

Steuart nodded, “Sparky, the dinosaur.”

“Why is your pillow...?”

Steuart interrupted again, “Sparky, say
it with me Sis.
Sparky, the dinosaur.”

Sam stared at Steuart and nodded. They
said it together, “Sparky, the dinosaur.”

“That’s right.”

Sam began again, “Why is your Sparky
the dinosaur disguised as a pillow?”

“
Hamster
flout
.”

“I’m too tired for your words tonight.
What are you saying?”

“Mother’s fault.” Steuart hugged Sparky,
“It’s because Mother says I’m too old to play with dolls. I’ve already told you
about that discussion. You know and I know that dinosaurs are not dolls anymore
than action figures are dolls.”