***
Back at home, Max was having dinner with his foster parents. He debated whether to tell his foster mother about his supernatural experience, but he decided not to, since she was already lecturing him about living in his own fantasy world.
“You have to live in this world,” she was saying. “You can’t live in the world of your drawings. You think way too much. You should be more outgoing. Am I right, Harold?”
His foster father, Harold, was a short little man with a balding head. He worked in a boring office in a boring position and the only interesting thing in his life was watching TV.
That night at the dinner table, Harold was watching a melodrama on TV and he couldn’t take his eyes off it.
Barbara Ann repeated. “Am I right, Harold?”
Without taking his eyes off the TV set, Harold murmured, “Yes, dear.” Then he stuffed some roast chicken in his mouth much like a robot would.
Satisfied that her point of view had been confirmed, she turned back to Max. “And another thing. You have to start putting yourself first. I didn’t become well-off by being overly generous. Throwing money away frivolously is just plain stupid. Am I right, Harold?”
Harold muttered something in coherently.
Barbara Ann looked smug.
Max knew his foster mother was a stingy miserly woman who once chased away girl scouts because they were at their doorstep asking for donations for underprivileged children.
His foster mother took a sip of her water before continuing to berate him. “And now your teacher tells me you’re dyslexic, so we’re going to have to put you in Learning Assistance.”
“But mom,” Max said. “Not Learning Assistance. Everyone will think I’m stupid.”
“Are you talking back to me, Max?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes wide, her mouth in a thin line.
“No, but....” he started to say.
He then noticed that a small loose piece of leaf was lodged in his foster mother’s hair.
He started to touch his own hair to show her where it was. “You have a....”
His foster mother’s eyes widened. “Are you making rude gestures?”
“No, you have a....”
“That’s it,” she said, standing up and putting her hands on her wide hips.
Barbara Ann was a large woman and since she was larger than most people, she liked to stand up and then talk down to them.
“Go to your room,” she said. “You’re disrespecting me. That’s an insult against my dignity.”
She hated it when her foster children talked back to her. She hated anything that she perceived as an insult against her dignity.
Max opened his mouth but then shut it. He knew better than to argue with his foster mother. She once sent him to bed without any supper because he spilled milk on the dinner table. She had quite the temper.
She glared at him. “What are you, deaf and dyslexic? I said, ‘Go!’”
Max found himself growing angry. Unable to control himself any longer, he lost control. “You’re not my real mother. One day, my real parents will come and take me away from here. I’m just here because the government pays you. You just want the money!”
Barbara Ann’s eyes grew wide as crimson flooded her cheeks. “GO TO YOUR ROOM NOW!!!”
Max got up and rushed upstairs to his dinky little room in the attic.
Breathing hard, he slammed the door.
He felt so misunderstood.
His foster mother was trying to control him and mold him to what she thought was appropriate and his foster father ignored him. But Max was used to this. He had been in many foster homes in the past and he never felt like he belonged in any one of them. He had often fantasized that his real parents would come get him one day and take him away from all those foster homes.
In that particular home, he knew that he was only allowed to live there because the government gave his foster parents a cheque every month. He knew that he was just a source of income to them. How else could he explain that he had a room the size of a bathroom?
Calming down, he went to his tiny little window and listened as gigantic drops of rain thudded against the room. Living on the Pacific Coast, he was used to the rain, but he wished it wasn’t raining that day. The grayness outside reflected what he was feeling.
His anger had turned into sadness. He was sad because he didn’t belong anywhere - not at home and not at school. He felt like crying but he didn’t want to. He was too strong for that. If it weren’t for Jessica’s friendship, he’d be itching to leave F.D. Sinclair, just like every other school before it.
And so he just stared out the window at the honey streetlight. The rain continued to pelt down, drowning the world in its melancholy.
The sound of his cat Ariel landing on his bed made him turn around.
He turned his head.
His beautiful and plump cat, an adorable orange tabby with wide turquoise eyes, was cleaning herself by licking her paws.
He had had the cat for as long as he could remember. He had insisted that every foster family who took care of him allow Ariel to live with him. He was told that Ariel had been with him even he was in the orphanage.
Ariel stopped cleaning herself and stared at Max straight in the eyes.
He reached out and petted her, scratching her belly.
She began to purr.
He cooed, “You’re a good kitty, aren’t you?”
And although something weird had already happened earlier that day, he wasn’t prepared for what happened next.
Ariel spoke. “I know something weird happened today, Max. I can sense it. You saw something, didn’t you?”
She had a very clear and authoritative tone.
Wide-eyed, Max stared at his cat. Did the cat just talk?
The cat continued to speak. “If something weird happens again, then tell me and we’ll do something about it.”
Max stammered, “I...I...I saw a ghost in the vending machine.”
The cat dipped her big head down. “I knew it. Tell me if it happens again.”
The cat’s ability to talk was more confirmation that the ghost in the vending machine had been real. All these supernatural things happening confirmed the reality of one another.
Still shocked at the cat’s speech, Max said, “Why didn’t you talk before?”
Ariel began to flutter her tail back and forth. “I was sent to look after you by your parents.”
At the mention of his parents, Max momentarily forgot about Ariel’s amazing ability. “My parents. Who are they? Where are they? Why did they leave me?”
“They left you for a very good reason,” said Ariel. “For your safety. But they left you a bracelet as a reminder of them.”
Max glanced down at his bracelet. S.I.T.T.I.B.I. and the right eye of the soul symbol on the eighth bead.
Sit Tibi meant Be Yourself in Latin.
His parents must have chosen that phrase for a good reason. They wanted him to be himself.
He knew the bracelet was something magical, but it warned him by glowing when he was about to see the ghost in the machine.
He looked at Ariel. “What am I?”
“Everything will be explained in good time. Just let me know if something strange happens again.”
“Wait. What are you?”
Ariel began kneading on the bed. “I’m just a special type of cat. I never age.”
That would explain why the cat never seemed to age. 13 years in cat years is 68 years in human years, and yet Ariel never showed any sign of old age. She had always been a lively cat, almost like a kitten.
Max had so many questions he thought he would burst. “Why....”
“That’s all I can tell you for now,” Ariel said, yawning and stretching on the bed. “For your own good. Believe me, ignorance is bliss.”
Max tried to talk to Ariel again, but she turned her back to him and left the room.