The Battle Fought in Silence

Nicholas had checked his homework only once so far, so going to the bowling alley was simply impossible. As advanced as Kcizky seemed to be to all the Kcizkians, they had no help for internal wars, and there was no one who understood him well enough to offer advice. But his younger sister Phoebe insisted he come along for her birthday. He never had agreed, only said it was a nice idea. Now here he was, being dragged there against his will. He stuffed as many pages of homework under his arm as he could while his adopted father hauled him out to the car, deep in humiliation.

“Nicholas, you’re thirteen!” Phoebe implored. He felt the same way she did. He was acting like a five-year-old protesting bedtime.

“Leave me alone, tyrant, just go!” he scolded his father, but the man gently pushed him to the open door of the car.

“You’ve not been anywhere but school or the house for years. It’s time you live.”

“But I’ll fail if I don’t get a good grade–” His lies created themselves. The grade meant nothing to him, but the homework had trapped him.

“You can stay up late if you need to finish your work. But right now you are going to help your sister enjoy her birthday.”

Glowering in misery, he strapped in. He gave withering glares to all the trees and houses they drove by. Each mile farther from the house seemed a mile closer to doom. Could one enjoy bowling while knowing their toddler was loose in the house, or their sibling was awaiting an ambulance? His family could not guess by the redness of his face that this was how he felt; he would have to show it in his demeanor.

The ball rolled heavily across the polished ground, and Phoebe’s friends cheered as she landed a strike. Nicholas sat unmoving on the bench, sweating and glancing alternately at the time on the wall and at the door. Deep down, he didn’t blame his parents. They were trying to help him. But panic was an unpleasant feeling, and equally unpleasant was the prospect of laboring at homework till three thirty the next morning.

Three months later

Phoebe and all her stupid friends were going on a road trip to see Kcizky’s largest waterfall. That didn’t bother him until he was jammed into the middle-row seat with a twelve-year-old blonde girl he had only seen at that bowling alley. Phoebe got to ride in the front with some kid’s mom, while the remaining girl and Phoebe’s “boyfriend” took the back. Nicholas took out his paper, pencil, eraser, and math book, and arranged them on his lap desk. He could not begin until his pencil was lined up exactly halfway by the page on the left, and the eraser halfway on the right. As he was adjusting the eraser, the mom hit a bump and the pencil went flying. The girl across from him giggled and picked it up from the floor. She returned it to him.

When he didn’t thank her, but set about re-straightening it, she shot a curious look at Phoebe, who didn’t notice. The next time the eraser was nearly aligned she turned a sharp curve, and again the pencil went rolling out of position.

“Could we please stop?” he finally asked. “I’d like to get a drink.”

“There are water bottles in the back,” the mom cheerfully called. The boyfriend wrangled around and tore some plastic, then popped one up to him.

“Thanks.” He set it in the door pocket, grimaced to restrain a tortured sigh, and resumed his ritual.

Dahlia regarded the boy across from her with keen interest. She wasn’t sure if he was too strange to be cute, or if his strangeness was what made him cute. His almost damp-textured dark brown hair certainly tilted him more to the cute side. Finally they had to stop for gas; he sighed with relief and positioned the pencil and eraser as he desired them.

“You’re Nicholas?” she asked.

He seemed engaged in some internal matter of grave importance, and paused his concentration to blink and give a curt nod.

“Dahlia,” she said. “My sister back there is Mell, and my mom Justina is driving. Her boyfriend is Dominic.”

“Mm.” He resumed his process.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to start my homework, if you could let me focus.” His voice was strained.

“Sure, okay. I guess I’ll go in and use the bathroom.”

“Hey man, I can trade places with Dahlia if she’s getting on your nerves.” Dominic leaned forward, used to being annoyed at these friends of Phoebe’s.

Nicholas had just cracked open his math book. “No. She’s fine.”

They were soon on the road again, and Nicholas plowed away at his assignments despite the incessant chatter and blaring music, though he occasionally mopped his brow and looked miserable. Dominic felt for him, though he himself cared as much about school as about a dirty sock.

Evidently he finished at some point, and put his supplies away. Only, then he retrieved the pencil, put it in its position, and put it back in its bag, and pulled his eraser back out, and put it back. Deciding something was wrong, he retrieved his books as well, set everything back up after many bumps and turns, and put it all away. Dahlia, driven crazy by this nonsense, had her face pressed against the glass window and was studying the fields with near fixation.

“Darn it! I just remembered, Phoebe, I insulted the mailman last time he came, didn’t I? I remember I was at the door and I was thinking how his hat was ugly and I may have made some offhand remark about it when I took the mail. . .” Nicholas paused in a deep attempt at recollection.

“No, you only thanked him for the mail,” Phoebe said.

“But since you were in the living room and you may have forgotten since I’m in the habit of insulting people. . .”

“No you’re not. Cut it out. I didn’t tell my friends that you’re like this.”

“Sorry. But I’m just thinking, because he said his wife was sick, and–”

“Stop it! You’re ruining our vacation. But look, we’re nearly there.”

The waterfall park loomed into sight, and the speed limit, indicated by a sign, changed from forty-five to thirty.

“We’re here! Everybody ready?” the mom asked, entering the vast parking lot and finding a space in the flattened grass. The girls and Dominic hurried out of the car, but Nicholas twirled a tassel on his backpack’s zipper.

“I’ll stay here.”

“What? You’ve got to come along,” the mom encouraged. “It’s the best waterfall around.”

Phoebe muttered something to her. Probably: he’s not worth it. He made my last birthday miserable.

The mom shrugged. “Alright. Keep the car safe.”

He drew back a little. “I’ll be doing other stuff.”

“Nicholaaaas,” Phoebe whined.

He glared at her. The party left, and Nicholas heard the doors lock around him. He pushed his face against the window to attempt to see the waterfall, but to no avail. He opened his backpack with quivering hands, retrieved his lap desk, and let a tear fall onto it.

He’d just completed his putting-back ritual for homework supplies after rechecking his work, and had his head buried in his hands, when the car unlocked, the door across him swung open, and a little form bounced into the seat beside his. “I’m not bothering you?”

He raised his eyes. Dahlia. “No.”

“I determined that you’re more fun than a stupid old waterfall any day.” She smiled.

“Uh, th-thanks.” He felt his heart begin to melt.

“You’re trapped, right? But now I’m here with you, and if I can’t bring you out of your trap, I’ll stick beside you in it.”

The poor girl knew nothing of his silent battle but the outward results. “Why?”

“ ‘Cause being alone is no fun. I've been all alone, except God was there. And if I’m not around for you, remember God is still with you too.”

He drew back a little, surprised at this kid mentioning religious matters to him. She continued, “You never see the other people in the dark until you have a little light.”

“And then?”

“You give that light to them.”

She smiled and placed her hand atop his.