The Ingenious and the Heart of Shattered Glass by J.Y. Sam

Author:J.Y. Sam
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ya books fantasy, young adult fiction books, young adult series, young adult fantasy books, ya fantasy book sets
Publisher: J.Y. Sam
Published: 2021-09-17T00:00:00+00:00

......Four-year-old Jem Fitzsimmons sat cross-legged on the floor, in front of a painting that was propped against the wall, in the hallway. The picture was twice as tall as he was, standing. His mother, somewhere behind him, was deep in conversation with her sister. ‘No, Barb, no. I think it deserves a more open space. It’s lost here. No-one will appreciate it. They’ll just walk by without giving it a second thought.’

‘It’s gonna get walked past wherever it is, to be fair. Anyway, it blends in really well here, and the colours match the décor.’

Young Jem, not really listening to them, was eating a hard-boiled egg from his hand, biting into it like an apple. He ate as he examined the artwork, mesmerised by the hardness of the shadows, the softness of light.

‘Will you look at him!’ hissed Barbara to Anne, taking her sister to the side. ‘How can you let him eat like that? Out of his hand, like a wild child?!’

Anne breathed a withered sigh. ‘Barb, he’s four. He has a love-hate relationship with food. And if I don’t let him eat like that, he won’t eat at all. Is it really so bad?’

‘But why would you allow it!’

‘That’s just him. He needs to feel the food in his hands.’ His mother stopped there. She would rather not tell her sister the whole story, that the boy lived by touch. He could not understand a thing without handling it first. He explored the world through his fingertips. ‘Just... just be grateful, okay! He’s healthy, he’s happy... I think. Maybe a tad too quiet, but he’s okay.’

Jeremy polished off the egg, licked his hand clean, and then reached out to touch the painting.

‘Jeremy, no!’ his mother cried. ‘You’ve got eggy hands, and that’s a very precious family heirloom. Your great, great...’ Anne paused, unsure of how many ‘greats’ there were. ‘...One of your ancestors painted it. It’s very special. You shouldn’t touch it, okay?’

He glanced back at his mother and blinked. A constellation of freckles smattered across his nose and cheeks. ‘Ever?’ he said in a high-pitched squeak, upset.

She didn't like denying him, and already felt herself caving. ‘Well... maybe when your hands are super, super clean. And dry!’

Inspired, the boy jumped up and ran off to wash his hands.

Barbara stood with her arms crossed, glaring at her sister. Anne looked down. ‘I’m doing my best, Barb. Like I said, we should be grateful, ‘cos it’s only a matter of time before he changes, and... and...’ She glanced away, overcome.

Barbara softened, and touched her arm. ‘You never know. It might not happen...’

‘That’s what I keep telling myself,’ she said, catching a choke in her throat.

Jem came flying back down the corridor, and jumped right in front of his mother – holding squeaky clean hands up to her face. Anne couldn’t help but smile. She clasped his hands in hers, and kissed each one; they smelled of eucalyptus soap. ‘Go on then,’ she grinned, ruffling his hair as he turned away.

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