The Wisherman (12 page)

“Mom?”

The receiver crackled for a moment, and Oliver’s heart was seized with terrible fear. But when the soft, familiar voice came pouring from the other end, he felt his heart beat slow and warmth rushed to his cheeks.

“Hello, Oliver. How are you?”

The question was loaded, and seconds turned into minutes before he answered, although it felt like no time had passed at all.

“I’m fine.”

“How is school? Is it exciting? I’ve heard good things about Delafontaine.”
The phone line crackled again, and for a moment, Oliver wished the call would drop. He felt a surge of rage and looked reflexively at his own hands before tucking them into his pocket.

“It’s
okay
. It’s a lot like prison, Mom.” The silence from the other end was extended.

“I thought a little structure would be good for you. You’re not being bullied, are you? “No.”

“Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want to be in prison, Mom.
I didn’t do anything…wrong.” A lump formed in his throat, hard as the gym floor he was just sitting on.

“I know.”

A hard tap at the glass roused Oliver.

“I have to go now, Mom.”

He swallowed hard, and hung up the phone, his fingertips trembling as the receiver connected with the wall. As the security guard led Oliver back to P.E class, he felt his stomach twist in its scarily familiar way, and he shoved his hands even deeper into his pocket. When he returned to gym, Malachi jogged up to him, the only person still standing. Several other students lay face down on mats, tennis racquets strewn about.

“You sure you don’t want one more game?” Malachi slapped Oliver on the shoulder
and he recoiled so sharply that Malachi stepped back awkwardly and continued running around the gym. When the class bell rang, Oliver raced from the gym, though he was unsure of what was after him.

Oliver wandered through the hallways, getting lost down several corridors before he stumbled into Dr. Heinz
’s office. The office was empty and Oliver was immediately struck by the sound of running water. The colors of the office were all warm--red walls, yellow couches, and thick heavy bound black boxes filled the built in bookshelves on the wall. After several minutes of standing, teetering from one foot to the other, Oliver made himself comfortable on one of the yellow couches as he surveyed the rest of the room. A fish tank with no fish sat on the desk in front of him, along with a sharp name decal that said "Dr. Heinz." A white noise machine, that Oliver had only noticed just then churned out sounds of the rainforest. Frogs croaked faintly in the background.

"Hello, Oliver."

He spun around in his seat, startled by the voice. There, before him, stood a slight man. His hair was tall and white, giving him a vague resemblance to Albert Einstein. Dr. Heinz had wide eyes that looked kind but world weary.

"Welcome. Have a seat anywhere."

He waved his arm about nonchalantly. Still feeling somewhat awkward, Oliver sat back down on the yellow couch.  Once he'd settled down, Dr. Heinz sat down across from him in a black leather chair. He pulled a pair of thick reading glasses from his shirt pocket.

"Welcome to
The Delafontaine School, Oliver. How was your first day of classes?" Dr. Heinz peered at him over his glasses. Oliver shrugged, an attempt at being nonchalant but inside he was all clammed up. Dr. Heinz nodded.

"How is being away from your family?" Dr. Heinz continued to stare at him, and Olive
r was worried that he could see his chest seizing up.

"I can only imagine it must be difficult to be taken away from your family so abruptly. Why don't you tell me about the circumstances leading up to that?

Oliver felt his chest constrict again. "I feel fine." The words felt hollow.

"Fine? Would you like to expand on that? What does fine mean to you?"

Dr. Heinz was staring directly at him, pen poised above a notepad.  Oliver felt a strange ticking sensation above his lip, and before he knew it, he was spilling it all.

"I killed my father."

Dr. Heinz’s eyes widened for a moment, before he suddenly began scribbling words down on his notepad.

"Do you mean, figuratively, or literally?" Dr. Heinz's voice was quiet and he sat forward as if on pins and needles. As Oliver looked at Dr. Heinz, deciding how much of the story he should divulge, he felt the sudden urge to laugh uncontrollably.
What he had done didn't fit neatly into either category. He paused before launching into the events of that day.

The words flowed out of him with such force that when he was done, Oliver couldn't even remember what he'd said.
Dr. Heinz scribbled something on his notepad and studied Oliver.

"I can understand why you might feel that way." He said slowly. "Survivor's guilt is a very real thing.
It is easy to imagine that you played a great hand in your father's passing. You must understand, however, that you had nothing to do with your father's death."

Oliver averted his eyes to the empty fish tank behind Dr. Heinz, his fingers trembling. He didn't understand, of course. He should have expected this.
"I think we're at the end of our time for today. I hope you will continue to work on the things we have discussed. I will see you next week."

Oliver wandered back to his dormitory, eyes cast low. He passed the outdoor basketball court, where a couple of older boys played pick up. He raised his eyes, his own meeting with one of the boys who gestured at him to come over. Oliver shook his head and kept walking, looking at his own hands and swearing that he saw blood.
He opened the door to his room, relieved when he didn't see Robert's black hair sticking up from the covers. Oliver laid down on his bed, letting the afternoon breeze send him into a peaceful sleep. He awoke after what seemed like five minutes later---although the setting sun betrayed the true time. A beam of light from the other side of the room indicated Robert's return. Oliver turned on his side to see Robert diligently writing away in a notebook beneath a desk lamp.

"What are you doing?" Robert looked up, his face covered in shadows
.

"
Writing a letter." He closed the notebook he was looking at and turned towards Oliver.

"To who?"

"My mom." Robert said shortly.

Oliver felt compelled to ask
about what, but Robert's facial expression made no indication that he would welcome such a question.

"Did you see Dr. Heinz today?" Oliver nodded. Robert's lips hardened into a razor thin line.

"How was he?" Oliver shrugged. "He was fine. Typical psychology stuff."

"
Do you feel particularly enlightened?" Robert laughed.

"No, why?"

Robert was silent. "Nothing. How was today?"

Oliver's eyes stayed glued to the ceiling, as he
still felt somewhat numb about it all.

"Do you like it here?"
Robert asked. He leaned into the light, his face intently curious. As he emerged from the shadows, sitting just at the tip of his own mattress, Oliver thought he looked rather like a gargoyle perched atop a cathedral.

“Where else would I go?”
Oliver asked.

Robert nodded. “I wonder that same thing, myself.”

“What time is it?” Oliver sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“About 8pm. You missed dinner, unfortunately.
There’s late night, if you want a pimento cheese sandwich.” Oliver grimaced. “If it’s any consolation, it’s not that bad.” Robert laughed.

Chapter 7

A week later, Malachi and Oliver stood outside Knott Hall, taking bets on who should enter first.

“I’ve never been in an upperclassman dorm before. Can we just walk in there?
” Oliver looked critically at the massive wooden doors before him. Malachi shrugged.

“Well, we were invited. It’s not like we’re strangers, or anything. Let’s just---okay---I’ll go.” Mustering all of the faux confidence he could find within himself, Oliver marched up to
Knott Hall and swung open the doors.

             
If Oliver had been impressed by the first year dorms, he was absolutely floored by the senior dorms. Knott Hall seemed more like a nice estate, than a residence for students. As they stepped into the common room, Oliver noted that the walls were a warm mahogany, with plush beige carpet. Towards the back of the room, a fireplace glowed from the remains of an earlier fire.

“When we get to be seniors, I’m going to make sure that I live here. Where’d they say they’d be?” Malachi said, mouth wide open in awe. 

“Basement common room.” Oliver said. He and Malachi headed towards the stairs, hearts jumping with anticipation.

             
Oliver and Malachi stepped into the basement, and were immediately hit with the unmistakable, pungent smell of marijuana and a barrage of voices.

Malachi looked over at Oliver and grinned like the Cheshire cat. “I think we’re in the right place.”

At the end of the hall, in a common room smaller than the first floor,
sat Owen, Gabriel and Alex. Alex sat in the open window sill, legs propped up against the wall, while Gabriel lay sprawled across a small table in the center of the room. Owen sat on the floor, staring intently at a rolled piece of paper. Oliver and Malachi exchanged looks and waited to be noticed. Several minutes went by before Oliver cleared his throat as loudly as he could.

The reaction was slow, like water creeping through a
thick towel. Alex swung his legs off the window sill and put his hand on the wall to steady himself.

“You made it!
Guys, they made it?” Alex howled.

Gabriel jerked his head up, and hit his head on the top of the table, sending Alex into a giggle fit that would make a little girl feel outmatched.  Owen still stared intently at his rolled piece of paper.

“It’s not going to be perfect.” Gabriel said, rubbing his head with a look that said very clearly, “How did that table get there?”

“It has to be perfect, for their first time.” Owen held up
the tiny wrap and inspected it.

“How do you know it’s our first time?” Malachi asked
, smirking.

“I like him!” Alex shouted, and then he recoiled as if the sound of his own voice surprised him.

~

“Well, here it is. It isn’t much.” Owen opened the door to his room, rolling his hand out in dramatic fashion.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the greatest time of your life!” Alex put his hand over his mouth and narrated.

“We have a couple of eclectic posters on the wall to your left, a king sized bed because Owen needs
so much room,
and on your right, the greatest stash known to man.”

Oliver and Malachi stepped inside Owen’s room, and Oliver immediately knew that
he liked it better than any room he had ever seen before. The walls were covered from top to bottom with indie band posters. In the middle of the room, a tiny brass flower basket hung from the ceiling, and instead of flowers, little rolled cigarettes stuck out of the sides. In the corner, a squashed, stained couch was covered with weeks of clothing. And the room smelled not faintly, but rather deliberately of marijuana and cigarette smoke, Oliver noted.

“The luckiest stash known to man. How many times has Officer Marks knocked on this door?” Gabriel asked, as he flopped down onto Owen’s bed.

“Too many to count” Alex answered from the couch in the corner
. Owen closed the door behind Oliver and Malachi and pulled out the perfectly wrapped joint.

“Is it time?” Alex popped up from the couch. Owen nodded and smiled.

“It’s time.”

“But I’ve smoked before. It’s not a big deal.” Malachi blurted out, and he looked around meaningfully. Owen shook his head.

“It’s not that. Today’s just a special day, that’s all.”

“That’s right!” Alex interrupted. “Think of this as your introduction to our little club.”

“What club?” Oliver asked.

Alex stared back at
him as if this was the stupidest question he had ever heard.

“The Disciples, of course.”
Alex started a slow clap, and after a moment’s delay, Gabriel joined in, and then Owen.

“Get the lighter!” Alex yelled.  Owen handed Oliver the joint and carefully lit the end with a small smile on his face.

“Consider this a welcoming present.”

Two hours later, the room was full of smoke and loose mouths.
The Red Hot Chili Peppers whined softly in the background. Malachi took a drag of the latest joint, and started hacking.

“Easy there. Let me take that for you.” Alex leaned forward from his spot on the edge of the sofa, reaching towards Malachi with all the grace of an astronaut reaching for
a close by asteroid in space.

“No, I’m not done yet.” Malachi complained.

“Oliver?” Alex snatched the joint from Malachi and offered it to Oliver.