Nightflyer by Christopher Fahy

Author:Christopher Fahy
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: occult
Publisher: Crossroad Press
Published: 2016-11-02T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

He didn’t hand his Macbeth paper in on time. He had a terrible fight with Miss Robards and called her a toad and she sent him to the guidance office again.

Sue Weller was shocked by the way he looked: eyes dark, skin sallow, clothes disheveled, hair in tangles —and so thin. She spent over an hour with him and all he would answer was “Yes,” “No,” “Maybe,” “I don’t know.” He sat there blinking, smiling oddly. She called his father again.

The psychiatrist’s name was Schlosser. He and Doug Petrie had been in the army together. He was short and heavy with shiny, black, wavy hair, and a mole the size of a raisin graced the bridge of his nose. Jon stared at it as the doctor looked through the papers and said, “Dr. Musser found a mild anemia, otherwise your tests were normal. Are you taking the iron tablets?”

“Yes,” Jon said, still staring at the mole.

“They’ll turn your stool black, so don’t be concerned.” He smiled.

Jon mumbled, “Okay,” embarrassed. He wondered what Dr. Schlosser had found amusing.

The psychiatrist leaned back, frowning, and said, “Jonathan, what do you see as the problem?”

Jon sat with his hands on his knees. He stared at one of them a long time and finally said, “I don’t know.”

“Well think for a minute. Things aren’t going well at school. Why not?”

“They pick on me,” Jon said without looking up.

“Who does?”

“A lot of people. But mainly four kids.”

“How long have they been doing this?”

“Three years. Ever since I moved to Evergreen Row.”

“What kinds of things do they do?”

“All kinds of things. Awful things.”

“Such as?”

Jon shook his head and said, “I don’t want to talk about that.” He looked out the window, out at the buildings, saw himself flying, wished he could be out there.

The psychiatrist rubbed his chin with a hairy hand. He was smiling again. “All right, we don’t have to talk about that. But why do you think they pick on you?”

“Because I’m weak,” Jon said. “They think it’s fun to pick on people who are weak.”

“They pick on other kids too?”

“A little. But they pick on me the most.”

“How come?”

“I guess … I’m weaker than the other kids. Or it must be more fun to pick on me.” Or I’ll do their homework for them, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t tell him that. Dr. Schlosser knew his father, and he couldn’t tell him anything he didn’t want his father to find out.

“So you think it’s more fun for them to pick on you than it is to pick on other kids.”

“Yes.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Could it be because of the way you respond to their teasing?”

“Maybe so.”

“So it isn’t just them, would you agree?”

Jon looked up, dark eyes squinting. “What?”

“If you learned to respond in a different way, perhaps it wouldn’t be so much fun for them anymore.”

Jon continued to squint. He didn’t say anything for a while, then said in a soft voice, “Maybe not.” He looked out the window at freedom again.

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