Monika Olszewski - The Revealing of Thare

The Revealing of
THARE

Monika Olszewski

The Revealing of Thare

Copyright 2016 Monika Olszewski.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-9873-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-9871-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-9872-0 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 07/11/2016

Contents

Friday, September 5, 2014

I t was the first day of schoolthe first day of Grade 11, to be exact. Things would have been fine if I hadnt switched schools and moved back to my old house in the summer. It felt like the first day of Grade 9 all over again, but this school seemed different from my last school. Everyone seemed perfectmaybe too perfect. There were cliques, but they all seemed to get along.

Obsidian?

I snapped out of my usual daze, quickly this time. Almost no one noticed my small jump at the sound of my name as the booming voice of Mr. Watters, my first-period English teacher, echoed through the big room.

Here, I said.

I tried my best to stay invisible. Obviously, it didnt work. When I lifted my eyes from my desk, I saw more than 10 curious pairs of eyes focused on my face. Gradually, the staring heads turned away. Mr. Watters marked me down as present, absentmindedly saying, Now, there is a name you dont see every day. Whats your background, Obsidian?

He looked at me, expecting an answer, so I gave him the one he was most likely looking for. I managed to say, Um, my parents are Greek, but I was born in Spain.

The teacher cut in. That is very interesting. Are they both Greek?

This is great! I thought. Now Im having a public conversation with the teacher in front of the c lass.

No. Well, Im not exactly sure. I was adopted a while ago. I dont really remember my parents that well.

There it was: the lie I always had to use. It was a lot easier than the truth, the one piece of information Mason said not to share. The lie was the only way to get teachers to stop talking to me. An awkward situation always brought people to change the subject. I would have to deal with Mason later.

Mr. Watterss face reddened. He was clearly uncomfortable. Oh, uh, my condolences. He paused, tugged at his shirt collar, cleared his throat and then continued. We should really get to the lesson.

Well, maybe it wasnt the best idea to use that information on the first day of school, but it was necessary. I couldnt handle the stares, even though that comment caused even more people to stare. However, almost everyone once again turned back to pay attention to the lesson surrounding our construction of the play Romeo and Juliet . There was one person, though, who continued to stare, not getting the hint that I was steeped in discomfort, and the situation was slowly getting a lot more awkward. Finally, my eyes met those of the mystery boy sitting a few rows over and in front of me. His eyes were violet! He smiled at me in a friendly manner, but his smile didnt suit his face; it looked false. He must have noticed my alarmed expression, because he turned his head abruptly. I was shaking. I had never seen something like that beforeexcept once.

***

I was 5 years old when it happened. My parents and I went to the park for a picnic, something they loved to do. I flew a kite I had made with my father, running down the hill to pick up speed to put it in the sky. On that day, there was something different about my special park. A boy was there.

Mommy, who is that? I asked. My curious mind was always looking for answers from my mother.

Who are you talking about, Obsidian?

Her response startled my 5-year-old mind. How had she not noticed the boy sitting in the middle of an open field as if he were a huge sign that said Random ObjectLook Here? But she did not see him, so I asked again, pointing this time with my tiny finger.

Over there in the field. Look!

She turned her head to see what I was pointing at, yet she still did not see him. This was odd. I laughed and ran toward the boybut not to him just yet. My mother suspected that it was a harmless game of make-believe, so she let me continue with my kite and my little game. I made sure to go when my mother wasnt looking, as I wasnt sure if she was pretending not to see the boy sitting cross-legged in the field.

Hello, I said to the boy, smiling.

He was looking down at the ground, not answering, so I squatted beside him and said hello again. This time, the boy looked up at me. His eyes were not purple like the eyes of the boy in my class. His eyes were a soft, mellow, calming pink. He looked curious and surprised.

You can see me?

He seemed alarmed. At that point, I realized that my mom hadnt been joking. I was the only one who could see him.

Of course I can, silly. I smiled at him and nudged him a little bit.

No one can see me, he whispered, looking at his feet.

I thought for a little bit, and then my little 5-year-old brain came up with an idea beyond my years.

Its nice to meet you. My name is No One, I said, grinning at the idea. This perked him up a little. My unexpected comment startled him. I, for one, was loving this game.

He smiled back and said, Well, nice to meet you, No One. My name is Carson.

It was quite the encounter, though I didnt think much of it at the time.

If you dont mind me asking, why are your eyes pink? I said.

At that point, the smile dropped off his face, and he once again had a grim expression, so I didnt continue with the topic. Do you want to fly my kite with me? I asked.

He looked happy once again and said, Yes, No One, I do.

We played with my kite and then played a game of tag before my parents called me over to eat. I didnt tell my parents about Carson, because I felt Carson didnt want me to. After I finished eating, I told Carson that I had to go home, but I wanted to play with him again. He told me he would come find me soon. I never told anyone about him, because somehow I knew he didnt want me to, and I was being a good friend. I liked having a friend to play with, because I didnt have many to begin with. My parents kept me away from the other children in the town. At the time, I didnt know why, and I didnt want them to keep me away from Carson, so I kept my mouth shut.

***

English class went on as a normal class would. There was one thing that concerned me, though: at the end of the period, Mr. Watters let everyone know that the English classes would be working with the drama team on Shakespeares Romeo and Juliet and performing it by the end of the semester. I, for one, would not be one of the main characters. Maybe Id be a side character or an extra. I would leave the big roles to the drama buffs in the classroom. Besides, they were all good looking and probably were used to being the centre of attention.