The Holders

2



The bedroom door banged as I shut it behind me, and I headed straight for the window against the back wall. One look outside told me that Ryland was still hiding in the tree house, and from here I could watch to see he stayed there. This spot was also perfect as it was right next to the heating vent in the floor which, when opened, allowed me to hear any conversations going on in the living room below.

All right, so I’d camp here until they left. No problem.

Except it was a problem. As much as I wanted to sit still and keep an eye and ear on things, I couldn’t; I was too riled up. In an effort to calm down, I changed out of my work clothes and pulled my long hair out of my “work appropriate” bun. I grabbed my brush, pulled my desk chair up to the spot by the window, and started brushing out my mess of hair, not taking my eyes off the back yard.

I’d really started to think that this was all over. I thought life could finally be normal.

When Ry was younger and the voices started he would panic every time he heard them and tell anyone nearby – me, Mom, his teachers at school, his friends, their parents – anyone. We thought it was just a normal childhood “imaginary friend” sort of thing, but it wasn’t long before everyone realized it was more than that. These voices he heard came at random times and usually said really weird things. Like once, Ryland had an all-out panic attack at a baseball game because there was a voice screaming that if the Pirates didn’t win someone was going to die. Another time he was at school and had to be pulled out of class because he started crying hysterically when his teacher returned their most recent math test. Everyone assumed that it was because he’d gotten a bad grade, but he insisted that it was due to the voices that had suddenly come, yelling and crying in this head.

It wasn’t long before he stopped receiving invites to friends’ houses, started sitting alone at lunch, and began making regular trips to the counselor’s office. Everyone thought he was crazy.

Finally the guidance counselor, with the help of the school psychologist, started sending people to talk to Mom about getting “help” for Ry. The problem was when they said “help” what they really meant was locking him up to be observed and medicated, and I couldn’t let that happen. He was my brother, and I had to take care of him.

But more than that, I knew he wasn’t crazy. Deep down, I knew it. Yes, he heard voices, and yes it was strange, but why was everyone so convinced that Ryland was imagining the voices he heard? What if they were real? No one had ever even tried to figure out what was going on or if there was a way to help him – actually help him, not simply slapping a “crazy” sticker on his forehead so they could hide the problem behind an institution and drugs. I seemed to be the only person who wanted an actual explanation for the problem, not just a by-any-means solution.

A knock at my door made me jump. I reached for the handle, thinking it was Mom, but the voice on the other side wasn’t hers.

“Rebecca?” It was the younger of the two men.

“What?” I snipped.

“Do you mind if… Can I speak with you for a moment?”

I was about to tell him to go to hell, but something in the tone of his voice stopped me. Maybe I should talk to him. The fact that they hadn’t left yet meant they were going to be persistent, so I might as well get ready for the long haul. Anyway, better him than the crooked-nosed creature he had brought with him. “It’s not locked,” I said, though I still put as much venom in the words as I could.

He slowly opened the door, stepping in so cautiously it looked like he was trying to avoid landmines. He stopped five or so feet from where I stood with my arms crossed, ready for battle.

“So, talk,” I said, after a few moments of silence.

“We really do want to help your brother.”

Really? More of this? What, so cute guy thinks he can just waltz up here and win me over with some alone time. I snapped. “Oh, sure, you want to ‘help’ him ‘control’ his ‘condition’,” I said, making sarcastic air quotes. “Do you really think you are the first people to come and try to take him away ‘for his own good’? Do you think I don’t know what that means? I don’t care what you’ve been told, he’s not crazy. If you think that I am just going to stand by and let you lock him up in some institution somewhere, so you can–”

“I would never do that,” he interrupted quietly. His tone hadn’t been more than a whisper, but it was so earnest and solemn and, honestly, a little scary, that I couldn’t help but believe him. And just like 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.

“Yes,” he nodded.

Oh. My. God. And people thought Ryland was crazy? “Yeah,” I said, not sure whether I should be laughing or offended that this guy actually thought I was that stupid. “Thanks for the talk, but you and your buddy can go sell psycho somewhere else.”

“Please, I know how it sounds, but–”

“Out,” I clipped, standing, ready to physically remove him if necessary.

“I’ll show you.”

“Show me?” He really wasn’t going to give up.

“Yes. I can show you what I do, if you’ll let me.”

“OK, fine,” I challenged, almost amused. I sat back down on the bed and crossed my arms, waiting for the show I was more than sure wouldn’t come.

“Thank you,” he said, apparently happy with his tiny victory. “It will only take a moment, and then you can decide if you’d like to talk further. I will warn you though, it’s, well, strange, so just try not to freak out or anything, OK?”

“I’ll do my best,” I said flatly.

He walked over to my bedroom door and shut it softly, immediately sending alarm bells ringing in my head. Strange guy… in my room… shutting us in…

“Just so you know, I scream really loud,” I informed him, eyeing the closed door.

“Don’t worry,” he said, undeterred by my announcement, “I will stay over here.”

“Do I need to say the magic words?” I asked, hoping my sarcasm would help me ignore the fact that I was actually getting nervous. Of course nothing was going to happen, but he was also taking this way too seriously for a stupid joke.

“No magic words, though it will be easier if you stand,” he said, gesturing to the middle of the floor. I got up and moved to the spot he had indicated in front of him, while he stayed where he was, hands behind his back. “You ready?” he asked after a moment.

I nodded.

I waited quietly for a second or two, thinking maybe he would do or say something, but he didn’t. Nothing happened at all. It was just me and Alex, standing a few feet apart from each other in the middle of my room.

But then, suddenly, my vision went blurry. Everything in my room seemed to shift out of focus, like there was something in my eye that I needed to blink away. All the colors and shapes began to melt into each other until I couldn’t tell where one thing left off and another began. My eyes flew to Alex, thinking that he too would be an edgeless fuzzy blot of color, but he was still there, standing exactly where he was, the only thing in the room, other than me, that was still crisp and clear.

His eyes met mine, and when he saw that they held only wonder and confusion but no fear, he smiled and the fuzzy blobs of color began to move. The greens sank down to the floor and grew, spreading out under our feet, reaching far beyond the boundaries of my small bedroom. The blues and whites soared upwards, expanding as they went, creating a clear sky high over our heads. Lines, edges, textures, and dimension returned, but in the forms of grass under our feet, clouds in the sky, and water – an entire ocean of it – stretching out over the horizon. Suddenly all the lines were clear again, only now Alex and I were standing on the edge of an enormous cliff. To my left, an ocean swelling and falling with white foam caps on each of its rolling waves; to my right a seemingly endless field of gently sloping hills covered in lush green grass. It was the most beautiful place I had ever seen.

I looked over at Alex, who was still standing a few steps away from me, watching me calmly. “Where are we?” I breathed.

“In your bedroom,” he answered quietly. “What you are seeing are the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland. They’re near St Brigid’s.”

“You’re doing this?”

“Yes.”

I turned towards the edge of the cliff trying to make sense of it all. This couldn’t possibly be an illusion, it was all so real. I could hear the waves pounding into the bedrock of the cliffs below us. I could feel the wind pouring up over the edge of the cliff.

And then it hit me; I could feel the wind. Feel it blowing past my face and onto the fields. Yet my hair, which was hanging free and should have been whipping like mad around my face, lay perfectly still against my back. I took a step towards the edge of the cliff when suddenly my leg hit something. I looked down but there was nothing there. I could feel the object pressing against my shin, but the only thing in front of me was open air.

“What is that?” I asked Alex, swinging my leg again, kicking it.

He smiled, obviously happy I wasn’t having some sort of mental breakdown. “Your bed. We’re still in your room. Here…” He reached down and patted what looked to be empty air, though it made a sound. “Feel.” I reached down towards the invisible obstruction, to find that it was indeed my bed. I couldn’t see it, but it was there – the sheets, the pillow, and the quilt with the little embroidered rosettes – all of it.

My vision began to blur again, the sounds of the sea tapered off until they were only an echo, and a few moments later I was back in my room looking down at my quilt. I twisted around and plopped down onto the edge of my bed, disillusioned, yet somehow exhilarated. Alex pulled the desk chair up next to me and sat. I glanced up at him to find him studying me.

“Are you all right?”

“I think so,” I said, though my voice shook more than I would have liked. Dear God, had that really just happened? Was it even possible? I blinked a few times and shook my head, hoping I wasn’t losing my mind. “What was that?” I finally asked.

“It’s called Casting, it’s what I do; my ability. I can project images on reality, making people see whatever I want them to.”

“Is that what Ryland is doing?”

“No, Ryland’s ability is different. He can…” he paused, looking again to read my reaction. “The things he hears, the voices, they are people’s thoughts.”

“You’re telling me my brother can read minds?”

“Well no, not yet. Right now, he is just overhearing things once in a while by chance, but he’ll learn to control it as he gets older.”

“And that’s what you’re going to teach him at this school?”

“Not me specifically, but yes. That, among other things.”

“And the other kids there, they are like him?”

“Some of the children have abilities, but not all of them.”

He was looking at me with unveiled worry in his eyes. Poor guy must have thought I was about to implode, and honestly I probably should have been crying or screaming, or something else a normal person would have been doing, but I was strangely calm. For some inexplicable reason, this all seemed to make perfect sense to me. People had been trying to convince me for years that Ryland was crazy. Crazy because he needed more attention, crazy because our father left us, crazy because some people are just crazy, but they had all been assumptions based on nothing, and I hadn’t believed a word of it. Go figure that the story about magic visions and mind readers would be the one I would actually buy.

Maybe I was the one who needed medication?

I looked down at the floor, realizing that for the first time I was torn. I knew I had to do what was best for Ryland, but now I wasn’t sure what that was. What if these people really could help him? What if, for the first time in his life, he could finally be somewhere where he fit in? Where he could have friends and a normal life? Sure it seemed unlikely, but clearly there was something going on here that was beyond my understanding. I mean this guy had just sent me to Ireland without ever leaving my room. There was also the fact that they had been sent by the one known as my father, who – according to Alex – also had some magic ability. Much as I hated to admit it, if that were truly the case, then he might actually be able to help. Maybe…

I sat quietly for a few minutes trying to organize my thoughts, while Alex waited patiently. After a long moment I came to a decision. “Can I ask you something?” I asked, looking up at Alex.

“Of course.”

“And you’ll be honest?”

“I promise,” he stated with a grin. He’d said that a few times now, and though I’d mocked him for it, even I had to admit that he was the first person I’d ever met who could say that without sounding like a four year-old.

“Is going with you to this school truly the best thing for Ryland?”

He didn’t answer right away, as though he were taking my question very seriously, his eyes never leaving mine. “Yes.”

I nodded to show him that I did believe him before continuing with a small grin. “Can I ask you another question?”

“Sure,” he said, smiling suspiciously at my tone.

“Why do I get the feeling there is a lot more to this than you’re telling me?”

“Because you are very perceptive,” he chuckled. “It’s not that I’m not telling you. I’m not hiding anything; it’s just that the story – the whole story – will take much longer than we have time for tonight. But I’ll make you a deal. I’ll tell you everything – anything you want to know – before we take Ryland. That is of course, if you give us permission to take him.”

“Pretty sure my Mom has already given you that.”

“But you haven’t.”

“Does that matter?”

“I’m sure it matters to your brother. And it matters to me.”

In that moment I knew, deep down, that this was right. This was what Ryland needed. I might not have known what was going on, or even who these people were, but something inside me knew they could help my brother. And knowing that, there was only one thing I could do.

“When are you supposed to leave?”

“Don’t worry about that, I can take care of it. You can take your time; no one is going to pressure you.”

“When?” I asked again.

“We have flights scheduled for Friday, but that’s not import–”

“How about I make you a deal?” I said, cutting him off. Alex raised his eyebrows, interested. “He can go with you on Friday.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes… as long as I can go too.” It was already clear that Mom was going to let them take Ryland with or without my approval, but no way in hell was I going to let him go alone.

“You mean transfer to St Brigid’s?”

“What? Oh, no, I graduated high school two years ago.”

“I thought you were only seventeen?”

“I am. I graduated just after I turned fifteen, but Mom didn’t want me going off to college so young.”

“So, you’re advanced,” he said thoughtfully, “that’s… interesting.”

“Why?”

“No reason,” he said, though I didn’t believe him. “So you will just be coming to observe?”

“That, and for Ryland. He is way too young and scared to make a trip like that alone, and there’s no way my Mom can go.” Or, that is to say, no way was I letting my mother anywhere near Jocelyn, but I kept that part to myself. “And anyway,” I continued, “I’d like to see this school with my own eyes. It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just think it will make everyone feel better if I can see this place first hand. If we get there, and I am OK with what I see, and I’m positive Ryland is happy, then I’ll come home. Deal?” I asked, holding out my hand for him to shake.

“And your Mom will be OK with this?”

“You leave that to me.”

“That sounds like a plan,” he said with a smile and reached for my hand. But right before he grabbed it, I pulled it back. “One more thing,” I added, “I don’t want Jocelyn to know I’m coming.”

“What?”

“I don’t want him to know I’ll be there.”

“That… may be difficult,” he said, confused. “Is there any particular reason?”

Because if he knows I’m there I’ll have to see him. “Does it matter?” I asked more defensively than I’d meant to.

Alex thought for a moment before nodding. “I can make sure he doesn’t find out you are with us, but so you know, once we are there it might be hard. He lives in the same building on campus as the rest of us – the same building you’ll have to stay in.”

“That’s fine. I can handle it from there.” I knew how to keep a low profile, that wasn’t a problem. All that mattered was that I would have the advantage. It’s much easier to avoid someone who isn’t looking for you.

“All right, then,” Alex said with a smile.

“And I’m still holding you to your end of the deal, you have to tell me everything.”

“OK…” He hesitated, looking pensive. “But now it’s my turn to ask for a favor.”

“Which is?”

“I promised to tell you everything, and I will, but I am going to have to ask that you keep what I tell you to yourself.”

“What, like not tell my Mom?”

“Or Ryland.” He must have seen the suspicion enter my eyes, because he quickly explained, “Jocelyn was adamant that your mother not find out about all this. One day, when Ryland’s older and understands everything for himself, he can make the decision as to whether or not to tell her, but for now, it’s better if she continues to believe that St Brigid’s is nothing more than a typical school – which honestly it is in most respects.”

I didn’t like it, but he might have had a point. All of this was going to be hard enough on Mom, without knowing her son may or may not be some sort of mind-reading carnival act. “And Ryland? Doesn’t he deserve to know what’s happening to him?”

“Of course. But trust me when I say that it will be better for him to find out slowly, with other kids who are in the same situation. He will handle it better if he knows he’s not alone.”

There was a sad note in his voice that made me think that he knew all too well how alone Ryland sometimes felt. I still wasn’t sure about all the secrecy, but I decided to give Alex the benefit of the doubt, for now.

“All right. Mum’s the word. But you have to tell me everything.”

“OK,” he laughed.

“All of it?”

“All of it. But maybe not all at once.”

“OK,” I said with a satisfied smile, and lowered my hand for him to shake. “When do we start?”

“Well, I think we’ve covered enough for today,” he said, taking my hand in his, “but it–”

He stopped suddenly and froze, staring over my shoulder.

“Alex?”

Coming back to himself he brought his eyes down to meet mine. “Sorry,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, still looking a bit uneasy. “It’s a… a seventeen hour trip to St Brigid’s… so…” he released my hand and smiled, though not as easily as he had done a moment ago. “So we’ll have plenty of time.”