01: Sad Day in the Hood

Mistreated Aidan Strong is excited to wake up on his birthday, in hopes that his family might be decent to him today. Unfortunately, he botches it up, and trouble ensues.

It was almost a perfect summer day. The sky was bright blue and there were little to zero clouds. It was especially nice on Gretagrena Street, a pristine little avenue with tall, modern white houses lined against the smoothly-paved road. Every lawn was freshly cut and every driveway parked with clean and shiny cars that looked like they’d been purchased that same day in late June.

Camden House, otherwise known as House 12, was one of the model houses on the street. It was always clean, and the owners always seemed well-behaved. There were three lovely family members -- Mr. Wallace Strong, a wealthy commodities trader, was tall, well-built, and conservative of his money. Ms. Nancy Lewis-Strong, the housewife, was thin and tall with a wide smile and long black hair. Their son, Mason, was nine years old -- he was nearly always positive and walked with purpose. Almost every parent on the street envied his mother and father. They were perfectly lovely people with a perfectly lovely life, to the outside.

On the inside, however, was a small, black-haired boy who's unfortunate fate told a different story.

Aidan Strong was lying under the sofa, uncomfortable and rigid. He was the Strongs' second son. Aidan wasn’t known to the street because he was kept inside at all times, wasn’t allowed to tell anyone he existed, and wasn’t allowed to call his parents anything except their first names, like he was their student. Mr. Wallace and Ms. Nancy treated him terribly and used his presence as a sort of servant, but if anyone ever noticed him they would begin to pamper him.

It was a difficult life, being the forgotten child.

And there was no reason for it, either, thought Aidan to himself while trying to shift to a more comfortable position. He wasn’t bad. He did what his parents wanted him to do with more effort than Mason. He didn’t have too bad a mind (though it might have been better if he were allowed to go to school), and didn’t talk back too often. It seemed that they had hated him even before he was born... He always caught them muttering about Jamal…

The lights flickered on. Normally he'd wait for whoever it was to leave, but today was a different day. A special day. His day.

His birthday.

So he popped up from underneath and frowned at what he found. He had been hoping it was Mr. Wallace, since he was the nicest of them all. Of course, he was still profoundly awful and terribly mean, but he showed the most signs of slight decency and weakness.

Instead, he was looking at a tall, thin woman with straight black hair cascading her face, ending abruptly as though she'd cut a straight line across it. She was dressed very nicely, and continued to brush her cheeks with something Aidan didn't recognize. She didn't bother acknowledging him.

"Good morning," said Aidan in a groaned way -- luckily, if the time came, he could blame it on drowsiness.

“Don’t tell me that’s all you have to say to me,” snapped Ms. Nancy.

He frowned. He'd never been taught to say more than good morning. "Er... Good morning, Ms. Nancy?" Aidan hadn't meant for it to come out as a question, but frankly, he didn't know how to put it any other way.

"Thirty-seven birthdays. Thirty-seven entire birthdays and you've yet to remember one!" Ms. Nancy scowled at him. "That is all you have to say, isn't it?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it quickly, just to be careful. He probably should have said happy birthday, but he couldn't bring himself to with all the disappointment swirling in his gut. Luckily, she hadn't noticed, as she had gone back to grumbling and brushing her cheekbones.

Aidan heard steps striding down the stairwell, and his father, Mr. Wallace, scowled deeply by way of greeting. “Well? A birthday wish?”

“What?” Surely Mr. Wallace didn't think it was his birthday, too.

“Your mother!” Mr. Wallace squinted when Aidan didn't say anything. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

“He didn’t,” said Ms. Nancy with her jaw locked, her lips curling the same way they always did when she was about to punish him unfairly. “Not a present. Just like every year before.”

Aidan’s parents must have thought they were being mysterious, but he knew where the wind was blowing. This always ended in no meals for a few days -- and after how bony he was getting, Aidan knew he couldn’t handle that, so maybe a defense would work this year.

“I couldn’t get you a present,” he said in the most diplomatic voice he could muster. “I don’t have any money.”

“You’re five years old, for goodness’ sake. You should have money!”

“He doesn’t?” asked his brother, Mason, who was almost skipping into the living room after hearing the pleasant greeting his parents had given Aidan. Mason was nine, and always ready to sit back after Aidan repeatedly proved himself a victim of circumstance.

Most parents didn’t have a favorite child, but apparently Aidan’s had never gotten the memo. Mason was definitely the favored child. In any other circumstance, Mr. Wallace and Ms. Nancy might have been seen as average parents, but when compared to Aidan’s treatment, the difference was that of a prince’s to a prisoner’s. For instance, he went to school, ate large meals, had a bed, and was even privileged enough to not be snapped at every three minutes because “his hair wasn’t blond enough.”

Which wasn’t even fair, because Aidan had black hair.

Mason had long, messy golden strands pointing out of his rather large forehead. His eyes were large and watery, and so pale they looked grey. In Aidan’s opinion, he was boring and plain-looking, but their parents almost wept every time they put Mason in a suit at how handsome he was, and how much he looked like his father.

Aidan, however, took after Ms. Nancy. They both were tall, thin, and had the same straight, naturally neat black hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. Sometimes he wished he didn’t look like either of his parents --that way, he might have been able to pretend he was adopted.

“I had enough money to buy Mom this,” Mason told Aidan, presenting his macaroni necklace like it was a gold trophy. For other parents of nine-year-old boys, this would have been a sweet thing for the son to do. In Mason’s case, it was the sixth year in a row he’d given her the macaroni necklace, and each time he hadn’t made it, but rather he’d bought it from one of his friends.

Not that any of this mattered to Ms. Nancy. She just squeezed her son in a hug and mumbled a long thanks to him, just like every year. And just like every year, when she pulled back, she shot a withering look at Aidan for coming empty-handed. This was no exception.

“Nine in the morning!” said Mr. Wallace, checking his wrist for a watch he must have left by his bedside. “I think it’s high time all of us go out and celebrate, isn’t it -- and by all of us, what do I mean?”

“Everyone but Aidan,” Mason and Aidan chorused. Mason sounded gleeful and Aidan bored. Mason, of course, loved this phrase. Anything subtracting Aidan from the equation got three golden stars.

“Well, this time I’m afraid I really do mean all of us,” muttered Mr. Wallace. Aidan perked up -- maybe they had remembered it was really his birthday! “The orphanage won’t look after him for us this year -- they’re using their extra spaces for hospital residents, as it’s full this month, and nobody on the street wants to take ‘our cousin’s son’ in.” Mr. Wallace shot Aidan a look, like he was warning him to abide by that lie.

“I checked every respectable place that will keep him in line, and the only nearby spot that’ll look after him is that camera store on the outskirts of Hammond, about twenty-five minutes from here.” He shared a look with his wife. “That’s not happening in any case -- and we can’t leave him alone there.”

“How come?” asked Aidan. His parents shot him warning looks, but he ignored them. “I’m not going to ruin anything, and it’s not that costly, anyway. I’m six.”

“Of course you’ll ruin things,” said Ms. Nancy matter-of-factly, like it was such a hard, cold fact that arguing with it was ludicrous. “And don’t be silly, boy, you’re five. Wallace, there’s no other place for him?”

“He’s not coming to Mom’s birthday party!” Mason said angrily, stamping his foot.

“Well, we can’t leave him alone at the camera store,” said Mr. Wallace slowly, as though his wife and eldest son were dangerous pets he was trying to tame, “and they don’t allow more than three people a table where we want to go. It’s about that throat flu going around. I hear a small four-year-old girl was killed by it.”

Ms. Nancy looked at him, and Aidan was surprised by the utter lack of empathy on her face. “You can’t be serious.”

“So perhaps we might have to have your mom’s birthday at the camera store, as we aren't missing a celebration for this old brat.” That was harsh, Aidan thought.

“NO!” cried Mason. “We can’t!”

Mr. Wallace and Ms. Nancy looked at Aidan as though he were a complicated puzzle they’d rather throw out the window than solve.

“It must be done,” Ms. Nancy begrudgingly decided. “Thank you, dear Macie,” she said, mussing her son’s hair, “but I’m afraid that this is a much more urgent business.”

Aidan frowned. “What about me is so urgent?”

“Foolish boy, doesn’t even know anything about himself,” muttered Mr. Wallace, which felt like torture. “Come on, you excuse. Let’s go.”

Dragged by the scruff of his oversized hand-me-down T-shirt, Aidan was tossed into the back of the car before the seats had been pulled up. It was alright, though -- he was used to the dustiness here. Last year he’d even scrounged it up and made a soft little platform for him to lay on -- a dust pillow. Apparently, “they were the only ones who would have him.”

For some reason, Aidan felt that six-year-olds ought to be treated better than this, especially on their birthday.

He heard muffled snippets of his parents and brother discussing all of the great things about the camera store, but it seemed that they were trying to convince themselves more than each other.

“I say that if you can be happy anywhere, it’s a sign of maturity,” Mr. Wallace said to his family. “And I’m sure we’re all very mature people. And by all, what do I mean?”

“Everyone except Aidan!” cheered Mason, though even that sounded dullened out. It was their family motto, Aidan decided.

“Everyone except Aidan gets ice cream after dinner tonight.”

“Everyone except Aidan, get to work!”

“I hear the amusement park’s open, let’s go! Well, everyone except Aidan.”

He wasn’t that upset about it. It was all he knew, so he had nothing better to compare it to.

When they arrived at the camera store, Aidan noticed the big banner on top of the building. PROMOSIS INTRODUCES NEW CAMERA SERIES: PROMOSIS FLICKER -- GET YOURS TODAY!

Something about the Promosis Flicker series seemed so compelling --which was especially odd, since Aidan had never seen other six-year-olds with cameras.

Well, except a few times, when he’d seen large groups of people huddling around a select few. The middle of the group would hold up their shiny new camera, and sometimes they would be his age. The weirdest thing about it was that each time it occurred, everyone involved wore an odd pin -- gold, with eight glass towers in a circular form, and it read Magnolia.

The inside of the camera store was exactly what he imagined the word pristine meant. It was completely clean and new, with shiny white walls and glass windows that seemed like they had been bought, installed, and washed all the non-existent dirt the heck out, all that very day. Every camera and standing advertisement was neat and accurate down to the last pixel, and all of the assistants were well-dressed, hair styled perfectly and makeup that put every celebrity to shame.

“Promosis Pictures Industry, and for the summer sale every camera on a yellow stand is forty-five percent off!” said the female assistant on their left, and even her voice seemed like it was pitched specifically for each syllable to sound magnificent. It was sort of creepy. “I’m sure we can find the perfect camera to suit your lifetime ahead of photogra --” The assistant stopped as she saw Mason and Aidan, and probably Mr. Wallace’s and Ms. Nancy’s age. She regained herself in less than a second. “-- phy needs. I’m Veronica Bennett, how may I be of service?

“You got a birthday routine here?” asked Mr. Wallace gruffly.

Veronica Bennett looked slightly baffled, and somewhat disturbed, before her eyes caught realization. “Ah, is one of your beautiful little boys here on a birthday? Wants to become a photographer when he grows up?”

Aidan’s eyes flashed at the sound of it, although he’d never had an inkling before of wanting to be a photographer�"never even held a camera. Veronica stepped back in surprise. She bent down on her knees to be eye-level with him.

She said something quietly to him, and at first he couldn’t understand it. It sounded like gibberish -- possibly even a different language. But soon enough a translation washed over.

Aidan froze at the word. It felt like a prick on his skin. He only came back to life when Mr. Wallace yanked him away from Veronica violently. “No, Miss Victoria Barbie or whatever your name was, and we most certainly do not know what a Mage is.” He looked around. “And it is not his birthday. It’s my wife’s.”

Veronica’s perfect eyes didn’t move from Aidan, and they looked like they were almost shaking. Not from fear… From excitement. Anticipation. Like a long wait was finally over, and she could settle back into her coziness. “No, isn’t it his birthday, too? You’re six now, aren’t you?”

He nodded, but Mr. Wallace placed his hand so forcefully on his head that it barely moved. “It is not his birthday, and he is only five. My wife is thirty-seven today and I’d like to see that she gets a proper birthday celebration!”

Mason frowned at the situation, looking sour at all the attention Veronica was giving him. Aidan had to admit it gave him a shiver of pride.

“Of course, sir,” said Veronica, ripping her eye contact with Aidan though looking mildly perplexed before going back to her perfect assistant character. She called over one of the male assistants and whispered something. The assistant left and Veronica turned to Mr. Wallace. “But I hate to inform you that the Promosis Pictures Industry does not have a birthday celebration routine, but if your wife is interested in photography, we’ll make sure she was the best camera suited for her needs.”

When Mr. Wallace turned to say “Drat” under his breath, she mouthed to Aidan “washroom sink.”

Aidan nodded slightly and tapped on his father’s shoulder. “Mr. Wallace?” he asked.

“What now?” Mr. Wallace snapped, in the way that a parent does to a child, making him regret every speaking up.

“Oh -- I was just wondering if I could go to the bathroom.”

“Just get out of my sight, and get back here, quick. We’re going home to see what we can do with you.”

Aidan nodded and raced to the sign that said Men’s Washroom. In the fourth sink from the left, he noticed a small piece of paper that read:

Touch any camera on a white stand. I must be sure of something.

It was an odd request, but since he didn’t see anything to lose, so he accepted. Plus, there was something about Veronica he trusted. He knew this could easily be a trap -- maybe she wanted to get someone in trouble and trap them for the extra credit.

But something about her felt more like a friend than he’d ever felt. Someone who was on his side.

It was nice.

So he left the bathroom with the paper crumpled in his oversized shorts’ pocket, skipping toward whichever one he liked best. He went to the one that said Promosis Flicker -- all new in stock, BUY NOW!!!

There was just something about a camera whose advertisement used three exclamation points.

He touched the camera button, and for a second it seemed nothing would happen, and it was all a waste of hope. Hope that something interesting might happen to him -- something mystical and worth noting. That he might not be a waste of space.

Veronica, who was dealing with the other Strongs, frowned in his direction, mouthing Twelve seconds, try again.

Mr. Wallace noticed this and saw Aidan counting to twelve on his fingers. He had gotten to nine when his dad cried, “Boy, no!”

Three left.

“Don’t do it.”

Two left.

Sorry, Mr. Wallace, I have to do this.

“Mom, is Aidan going to ruin something again?”

One left.

“I swear, boy, if you�"”

Aidan pressed his whole hand on the camera lens. It began shaking, as though it were experiencing its own earthquake. Then it rose unevenly, snapping itself into nine pieces before putting itself back together in a way that was a completely new camera, but much different.

It ran for Aidan, maybe his hands, but he couldn’t tell with all the squinting and squealing in the room. It instead knocked his forehead, conking him out into a darkness he’d never experienced before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he woke up, he was back under the sofa at home. He heard the loud sound of a hammer against nails, hitting him from all sides of the room. It wasn’t until after a few minutes that he realized Mr. Wallace must have been trying to board him into the small space underneath the sofa.

“Mr. Wallace?”

“YOU THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU’VE DONE, BOY!” yelled Mr. Wallace, but he didn’t stop boarding him in. “YOU’VE RUINED YOUR MOTHER’S BIRTHDAY AND EMBARRASSED THE STRONG FAMILY NAME WITH YOUR SILLY ANTICS!”

“But I didn’t do anything! I just touched�"”

“THINK ABOUT IT FOR THE NEXT FOUR DAYS! UNTIL THEN, NO MEALS, NO LIGHT, NOTHING! NOT UNTIL YOU TREAT US WITH THE RESPECT WE’VE GIVEN YOUR FOR FIVE DARN YEARS!”

Aidan’s hands twitched, and he felt his eyes burn up with the same experience he felt whenever he looked straight into the sun, or a lightbulb. That was the last straw. He felt like his eyes were blazing, with an unbelievable type of pain. The place his eyes had stared were flat-out burned through the wood.

He was too furious to even wonder how it was happening, but soon enough the wood Mr. Wallace had been hammering on was completely burnt away, nothing more than ash that Aidan could roll over.

He jumped up, looking straight at his father before yelling, “I’M SIX!” He felt an uncontrollable burning behind his eyes as he gave Mr. Wallace the hardest glare in history. His father barely cowered, but it was enough to boost Aidan’s confidence.

And, as Aidan learned later, his father had actually been the one who’d gotten it wrong. His mother’s birthday was two weeks after.

Author's Note

Sorry if Mr. Wallace, Ms. Nancy, and Mason are too much like the Dursleys. At least, in chapter 3 you'll see how very different Mason and Dudley are...