Like Gravity(42)

Slipping quietly down the bunk bed ladder, I adjusted the too-long sleeves of my pajamas and padded out into the hall. I shared a bedroom with three other girls, but they were all older than me and they snored and drooled and thrashed as they slept.

I moved down the hallway on my tiptoes, trying not to make any noise. My foster mother got mad when she caught us out of bed at night, even if we’d had bad dreams. I’d been here for a few weeks now, but I’d learned the first night that there would be no bedtime stories or soft hands to tuck me in.

When I reached the back door, I pushed it open cautiously; I knew from coming here almost every night that it would squeak if I moved it too fast. I stepped out onto the porch, my bare feet cold on the uneven wooden planks. Sitting down on the steps that led into the backyard, I propped my head in my hands and looked up at the sky. There were no stars, here. No green sparkly dragons, either. Just clouds and swirling darkness.

“You shouldn’t be out here, you know.”

I startled, my head whipping around to peer into the dark corner of the porch where the voice had come from. It was a boy’s voice, deeper and rougher than my own. I curled in on myself, frightened as I watched him emerge from the shadows.

“You don’t have to be scared of me,” he said, sitting down on the step next to me. Close but not too close. “But you shouldn’t be out here. It’s late and it’s cold.”

I stared at him.

“You’re the one who doesn’t talk,” he stated, looking down at me.

I nodded.

“I just got here a few days ago,” he sighed sadly. “I can’t sleep either.”

I looked up at the sky again, seeking a star, but there were still none behind the clouds. The boy didn’t seem like he wanted to hurt me. He was older by a few years, probably nine or ten. I was surprised he was even talking to me. Most of the older kids didn’t want to spend time with the “little mute freak.”

“Are you scared?” he asked softly. When I looked over at him, there was no teasing in his eyes – only kindness and maybe some sadness too. He understood. He hadn’t asked what I was scared of, but it didn’t matter – fear is fear.

I nodded slowly.

“Want to hear a story?” he questioned, his voice unsure.

I felt my lips turn up in a small smile. I nodded again, turning to look at him.

“Okay,” he took a deep breath, his forehead scrunching up as he thought about where to start. I doubted his story would be as good as one of Mommy’s, but any story was better than none at all.

The boy looked up to the dark sky before he began.

“Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess named Andromeda. When she was born, her parents, the king and queen, were so proud of her beauty that they bragged she was the most beautiful girl in their kingdom, in their country, in the entire world.”

The dark haired boy looked over at me to make sure I was following his story. I watched him quietly, enthralled by his words. It had been weeks since someone had talked to me – really talked to me. The therapist visited each week, but she didn’t say much; she just asked too many questions that I had no answers for.

“When the sea nymphs heard what the King and Queen were saying about Andromeda’s loveliness, they were enraged; until now, they’d always been the most beautiful creatures in the land, and they weren’t ready to give up their title. The jealous nymphs begged Poseidon, the god of the sea, to send a terrible monster to Andromeda’s homeland and to destroy the kingdom.”

I perched on the edge of my seat, my eyes wide as I watched the boy and listened to his fascinating tale.

“The evil sea monster destroyed towns and killed villagers, and the King and Queen were desperate to end the suffering of their people. They asked an Oracle – the wisest man in the kingdom – how they could stop the monster’s violent attacks.” He gazed up at the stars overhead. “The Oracle told them the only way to end the violence was to sacrifice their beautiful daughter Andromeda to the sea monster.”

I gasped.

“They had no choice, if they wanted to save their people. So, they chained her to a rock in the middle of the ocean and left her there – alone and defenseless. When the monster appeared, with its razor sharp teeth and evil red eyes, Andromeda knew she was going to die.”

The boy looked over at me, his blue eyes intense.

“Suddenly, out of the sky, the hero Perseus appeared, flying on his winged horse Pegasus. He took one look at the beautiful Andromeda, fell instantly in love with her, and killed the evil monster before it could even touch her.” The boy smiled softly. “The princess was reunited with her parents, who were thrilled to have their daughter back. The very next day Andromeda and Perseus were married, and from that moment on they lived happily ever after.”

The boy fell silent, his tale over. I’d never heard a story like that before, and I was fascinated. Mommy had never told stories about sea monsters, flying horses, nymphs, or gods!

I had so many questions that I wanted to ask this boy – where he’d heard such a tale, and whether he knew any more like it. I wanted to thank him for sharing his strange story, but I still hadn’t spoken to anyone since Mommy had…

I reached up and touched the cut near my shoulder. Though it was wrapped with bandages and the doctor had put stitches in it, it still hurt. It didn’t bleed anymore, at least. The rest of my cuts and bruises had faded; it was the only mark I had left to remind me of that day.