The Wolf's Boy

Chapter One: Kismet

Kismet, by the age of five, knew he was different. Having lost his hearing at a very young age, he knew he lacked something important. He had forgotten what it felt like to hear and see something at the same time. He forgot how it felt to startle at the sound of the cock crowing Kismet missed most of the cooing of his mother’s voice and the baritone one his father’s had when they worked in the barn. He couldn’t recall the soothing or rambunctious beats of music, although he didn’t miss it. He soon revolved his perception around memorizing the expressions and body language of the people around him. He quickly understood the motions for anger and love—seeing one he felt fear, the other he felt peaceful. He understood sadness and pain, and was very insightful when others suffered from it. It was distinguishing those who were laughing at him or with him that was more difficult.  However, the children at school quickly taught him the difference.

Seven-year old Kismet plodded along the dry and dusty road leading to the old school.  He had a tiny bell that his mother had tied to his belt loop to let other people know he was deaf. At the time he didn’t mind wearing it; it wasn’t until he got older that he begged his mother to remove it. Young Kismet was the oldest in his class. His mother had insisted on schooling him at home until she and her husband decided he was old enough to handle himself in a public school. Even at the age of seven, he was well read and a great writer.  People didn’t need to hear him talk to know he was intelligent—evenhis thoughtful eyes gave his aptitude away.  Kismet carried scraps of paper and a pencil around forwhenever he was in a conversation.  He talked some, butonly with people he trusted. Those he was wary about, he turned to responding by paper. Many people in the town, if not all eighty of them, knew who Kismet was.  Most of them adored him and did everything they could to put him at ease, but there were folks who needed someone to annoy and toy with.

 “Hey, Kis!” shouted an approaching boy as he chewed on the end of a blade of grass. The boy picked up a nearby pebble and threw it in front of Kismet, getting his attention.

In bewilderment, Kismet looked up in the sky. But seeing no place in the sky where the stone could have fallen from, he shrugged and continued on his way.  

            “It’s me, Banner!”  The blond-haired boy ran up to Kismet and tackled him to the ground, laughing.  “Come on, you goose, how can you forget your ol’ pal, Banner?”

Kismet rolled over and knocked Banner off of him. Understanding the friendly gesture, Kismet smiled and managed a laugh. He leaned over and gathered his school books and lunch pail.  Straightening his back and dusting the dirt off his freshly washed shirt, Kismet spoke one of the few words he could form.

          “How…are…you?” Kismet jabbed Banner in the chest with his finger and then threw an arm around his shoulder. The two of them walked in unison towards the school.

           Banner playfully grabbed Kismet’s jaw and turned him so that Kismet’s eyes could watch his mouth move.

“I…am…great!  I’m great!”  Banner nodded his head in exaggeration while smiling with all his teeth.

               Kismet broke into a wider grin and said in a deep, monotone voice, “good!

“Hey, I’ll race ya!” Banner made his index and middle finger run across the palm of his other hand. “Huh? Race ya?”

Kismet didn’t reply.  He just held back a quivering smirk and broke off into a run.  He looked over his shoulder and gave Banner a cocky lift of the chin.

“Just like Kismet,” Banner muttered under his breath, shaking his head. He took off at a similarly fast pace.  When Banner caught up with his friend, he grabbed him by the suspenders and the two of them fell to the ground in a heap of laughter and tangled limbs.