“Tom?” came an attendant’s gentle voice. He looked up eagerly. Maybe this year, maybe just one person had not forgotten… “Mrs. Cole says that you’re to get out of bed immediately! Today’s New Year’s Eve and there’s lots to do!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tom sighed again in disappointment. How foolish he had been to think that anyone would remember his eleventh birthday. No one ever remembered Tom. Not yet, anyway.
He slowly walked down the stone steps, but did not feel like eating, so he merely sat at the table and read.
“Hey, Tom,” whispered a rough voice. He looked up: It was Billy Stubbs, the resident bully ” for some reason he had a particular disliking for Tom. “I know what today is.”
“Really?” asked Tom, trying to keep his voice casual. Even though Billy hated him, just knowing that he had been somewhat recognised would cheer him up.
“Yeah,” Billy said, happiness etched over his plump face. “Today’s the day I beat your head in.”
Tom’s heart sank. Billy could barely read, of course he hadn’t known Tom’s birthday. The clod probably didn’t know his own birthday, for that matter. Mustering up all his courage, Tom said in a dangerous whisper, “Today’s the day you’ll try.” He even threw in a glare, which made everyone else recoil in fear. And though Billy turned a shade whiter, he showed no signs of emotion.
Tom slammed his book shut and ran back upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. His breathing shallow and ragged, he only stopped to think once he had reached his room. Billy was much larger than him, and could beat him to a pulp if he so chose. But Tom knew that he was clever, and that he was different… he could do things that he couldn’t quite understand or control.
Tom’s thoughts on the matter were interrupted by heavy footsteps. Billy entered the room without knocking. Both boys stayed silent, staring each other down, until Billy took a step forward. When Tom didn’t move, Billy kept inching closer and closer… finally, he was close enough to throw a punch.
Tom was fast and dodged it, but Billy simply threw another. Tom wasn’t so lucky this time: it hit him straight in the jaw. Tom fell down and braced himself for the next punch. Sure enough, it came. But this time, as soon as Billy touched Tom, Billy was thrown across the room in a flash of light. He hit his head on the wall and slid to the floor, his face with an expression of utmost shock. Billy moved his mouth as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words, so Tom stood and watched him gape like a fish.
“What the ” how did you ” what’s going ”” Billy stuttered when he had found his voice.
Tom could not mask his smirk as he walked slowly across the room and knelt down so he was eye-to-eye with Billy, who was now chalk white. All he had to do to make his point was look Billy in the eye before the bigger boy stood and ran from the room.
Tom then sat on his bed and thought about what had just happened. He had done strange things before, but he was slowly realizing that he could control what happened. In fact… maybe the time had come to more thoroughly test his abilities.
That night, once everyone was asleep, Tom crept out of bed. He silently made his way to Billy’s room, and got his precious rabbit from the cage at the foot of Billy’s bed. Tom began to concentrate hard on the animal, and after a very tense moment, the animal levitated in the air. After another minute or two, the rabbit was hanging by a makeshift wire noose from the rafters, its nose twitching fervently. In a short bit it would be dead. And once it was dead, Billy would never bother him again. Smiling an evil, twisted smile, Tom crept out of the room. Revenge was sweet.
Tom awoke the next day to the sound of a boy (Billy, he was sure) screaming. It was a welcome change from Mrs. Cole’s cries, and Tom couldn’t help but revel in it. After all, Tom welcomed anything different; he was the boy who couldn’t stand the ordinary, the boy who vowed to one day be different, notorious.
“IT WAS TOM! TOM DID THIS!” came Billy’s voice, interrupting his thoughts. Tom got out of bed and went to Billy’s room, where he saw Billy holding his rabbit as one would hold a child, his face screwed up, crying.
“Well, boy?” asked Mrs. Cole.
“I didn’t do it,” said Tom automatically, keeping his expression blank. He was a proficient liar, and she believed him.
“Then that clears that up,” said Mrs. Cole. “Come now, Billy, give me the rabbit, and we’ll bury it out in the back, okay? It’ll have a nice little funeral.” She was trying to be caring and kind, but was failing marginally.
“Fine. B-but Tom d-did it, I know he d“did,” Billy had calmed down a bit, but was still crying harder than a boy of twelve should cry.
“Come on now, Tom said he didn’t do it.” Mrs. Cole seemed frustrated now; she clearly wanted this all to be over. “And besides, he couldn’t have reached the rafters anyway. Come along, I’ll meet you in the backyard.” And with that, she was gone.
“I know you did it,” whispered Billy. “I don’t know how, but I know it was you.”
“Not as dumb as you look, are you?” sneered Tom. “Either way, you can’t prove it. And if you try, it’ll be YOU hanging from the rafters the next time.”
The expression on Tom’s face meant business, and after Billy realized that he wasn’t joking around, he turned white as a ghost. Billy stood frozen in shock for a moment; then ran as fast as he could out of the room. Tom began to laugh a cold, merciless laugh; it made his handsome features seem to transform and become inhuman, almost bestial.
Yes, today would be a good day.