Ferry spent the next three years away from the curiosity of people, protected by the rustling sheets and the old walnut tree. It was his favorite place in the entire world. Up there, he could see far away, beyond the houses, all the way to the Shepherd's Forest. Sometimes, when the sun was about to set, he had the feeling that was the time when everything around him was coming to life. The trees' rustling seemed sundry in the soft breeze. The night bugs buzzed their songs, each time differently than the day before. And sometimes, the boy could swear the most curious things were happening in the forest as the night's cloak slowly wrapped around the town of Goodharts. Sparks and lights floated in the air, sometimes in the most charming chaos, other times in perfect swirls. His ears could catch the oddest whispers, other than the ones of the night's creatures.
But the strangest, most frightening whispers coming from the forest were those which seemed like naughty children's voices calling his name, "Ferry, come to play!"
One night at the end of the summer, perched on the top of the walnut tree, as usual, he could hear a big commotion coming from afar. He first thought there were party people going home after a long night of feasting and drinking. There were shouts, rattling bells, and joyful music. Carried away by the wind, the noises seemed sometimes closer, other times far away, like faint whispers. He watched the nearby streets. Not one sound. Not one movement. It was Sunday night and the only place with music should have been the tavern, but it was too far from his home to hear it.
Ferry listened carefully. Indeed, someone was singing a song. Someone unseen. He couldn't tell whether it was a boy or a girl. The voice floated in the air, blending with the soft darkness of the night.
Come along, you Ferry boy,
When the sun is gone to sleep,
Come and sing, and feel the joy,
Where the forest is too deep.
Yes, there was someone singing to him. Ferry wasn't afraid, for ever since he was a small child he's been used to those things happening around him. Then, he could hear the voice clearly and close, whispering in his ear again, "Are you coming, Ferry?"
That very second, Ferry felt the branch cracking under his foot and he fell. But right before hitting the ground, he floated into mid-air, then slowly touched the ground. He jumped to his feet, scanning the surrounding darkness. How curious... He didn't have any scratches or bruises from the fall.
In a blink of an eye, his mother was right beside him, alarmed by his cry.
"Ferry, how many times have I told you not to climb that high," she scolded him. But then she saw he was safe and sound, and she calmed down.
"Mum, what are the lights in the forest? What are the giggles I keep hearing?" Ferry asked that night when his mother was putting him to sleep. He was now sleeping in his old room, upstairs. His mother looked at him with wonder, like she always had when he asked such questions.
"There are so many things in this world we can't understand, my sweet boy. Things that deceive our sight or hearing. That is not actually what they seem. And people with a wide imagination, like yours, see and hear what isn't really there. Now go to sleep..." she said, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead.
Ferry eventually fell asleep. But that naughty voice still echoed in his head.
Good night, Ferry boy...
⃰
It was one of those Sunday afternoons when even his father was staying home. His mother loved to watch game shows on TV, although she barely knew the answers. Yet, she was constantly writing the right answers in her notebook with red covers.
It was a quiet afternoon. Peter was enjoying his beer, reading the newspaper. Yet Eileen couldn't concentrate. Ferry kept stealing her attention.
The boy was lying on his stomach, on the carpet in front of the TV. With his eyes glued to the screen, he was whispering the right answers to all the questions of the show. That's how Eileen found out that the oldest tree in the world was a Bristlecone Pine. That whales were actually mammals, not fish. And that the bee hummingbird was the smallest bird in the world. One after another, the boy gave the right answers to all the questions, even the most difficult ones about galaxies, solar systems, and far away planets.
"Did you see that?" she asked her husband when the show was over and Ferry left the room to bring some snacks.
"See what?" Peter said, slightly annoyed he couldn't read his newspaper in peace.
"Ferry knew all the right answers."
"Well, I'm sure it was all a coincidence. How could a child have known all of those things? Unless you've read to him from your encyclopedia," he added.
He was mocking her, of course. The Culinary Encyclopedia was Eileen's most precious book and among the few she owned.
But she didn't feel discouraged by her husband's words, "I think we should send him to school. I'm afraid I can't give him home lessons for much longer. I've taught him everything I know."
This time, Peter Donovan put his newspaper aside. "Are you out of your mind, woman? Can't you see the poor boy is living in his own world? He's daydreaming all the time, he stumbles and falls when you're least expecting and he injures himself at the very touch of a nail. What could he possibly do at school? He won't last one day," he said before rising from his armchair, obviously upset. Then, he took his beer with him in his workshop, hoping that was the last discussion on the subject.
But he couldn't be more wrong. Ferry heard the last words of his parents' conversation. The boy yearned for freedom and the school would have offered him the opportunity to leave his home for the first time in nine years. The summer was almost over, and he had little time to convince his father.
"I really want to go to school, Mum," he said to his mother.
"I don't know, Ferry... Maybe your father is right," she said, looking away. "Maybe you'll get hurt among strangers... Besides, you'll be too old for the first grade."
"But I can be in the third grade just like the other children my age. You taught me well, Mum. I'm sure I can pass the tests." And Ferry took a pen and a piece of paper and wrote the most beautiful letter in which he said how much he yearned to learn new things and meet children his age.
Eileen read the letter, and by the end of it, her eyes were full of tears. For a moment, she pictured her son in his white pharmacist uniform, saying long, difficult words of diseases or medications. She imagined the neighbor ladies watching her walking at her son's arm. Or better yet, in his car. By the end of the letter, she had made up her mind ─ the boy had to go to school at all costs.
And from that day forward, she tried to convince her husband that school was the best thing for their son.
"We won't spend any extra money for school,'' she assured him. "I'll work harder and I'll take care of all the school expenses."
"Yeah, I bet nothing good will come of this..." Peter Donovan muttered, sick and tired of his wife's insistence. "So be it! Let him go to school, but you won't see any penny from me!" he shouted and left, banging the door.
The next week, when the autumn began whispering its arrival in the color of the leaves and the gentleness of the sun, Andrew Ferry Donovan joined the third graders of the only school in town.
⃰
Ferry has never been more anxious. He was about to leave his home for the first time. He'd been waiting for this moment for so long. But now, as he was ready to come out the door, he wasn't that certain. What if the people would be mean to him, as his father said? What if they would laugh at him? Or avoid him? Yet the desire to meet the world turned out to be stronger. And when his eyes met his mother's, he had the feeling nothing wrong could happen.
But Ferry knew nothing about people. He did not know that in all those nine years since he'd stayed hidden, the people's curiosity had grown bigger and stronger. He did not know that in a town where the routine was a lifestyle, anything out of the ordinary was to attract attention, to be commented on and sometimes condemned. And that all this time, he had become the town's curiosity. For as soon as they came out the door, all the eyes they met in their way were staring at him. All the heads were turning. He heard whispering behind them. And people gathered in groups, barely breathing as they passed by.
But Mrs. Donovan was determined. She held Ferry's hand tighter, smiled at him, and they continued on their way. First, they had to stop at Mr. Button's tailor shop. The tailor greeted Mrs. Donovan, then studied Ferry from behind his glasses.
"How old did you say you were, young lad?" he eventually asked.
"Nine," said Ferry.
"Hem, you surely look much older," Mr. Button muttered, taking his measures with the tailoring meter. "Your school uniform would probably look like the one of a thirteen-year-old. But that's not a bad thing, you know. That means no one will ever have the courage to mess with you," the tailor said, smiling.
After leaving the tailor's shop, Ferry and his mother headed to the bookshop. Mrs. Donovan bought Ferry a big strawberry ice cream and told him to wait on the bench in front of the bookshop. The boy couldn't be happier. The sun was gentle, and the ice cream was delicious, a mix of fruit and cream that melted in his mouth. It was his first ice cream. Light and fluffy, like a cloud, carried away by the wind on the clear sky.
That's when a small voice interrupted his thoughts.
"What's your name?" the voice asked.
A boy about his age was standing in front of him. He was wearing shorts and a speckled shirt. He was also eating ice cream. He had grazed elbows and knees, and his cheeks were sunburnt. He had a funny haircut with a bang falling in his eyes.
Ferry felt a bit uncomfortable. He'd never talked to a child before. He told him his name though.
"My name is Matt," the little boy said. Then he sat beside Ferry on the bench without being asked. His ice cream was melting and trickling down his elbows, but Matt didn't seem to mind, "You're Mrs. Donovan's son, aren't you?"
Ferry nodded. He didn't know what to say. Except for his imaginary friend who was coming and going just when the play became more interesting, he didn't know how to behave around children. And this one was as real as can be.
"I've heard so much about you," Matt continued. "You're pretty famous in this town, did you know that? My dad says you have an unusual sickness which changes the colour of your eyes. And you can hang from the ceiling for hours, like bats. And that you can climb the walls with your bare hands. Is that true?"
Ferry didn't get to answer because Matt got off the bench and walked in circles around it, studying him.
"Why do you wear gloves when it's not even wintertime? Why is your face so pale? And why is your hair so white?"
"I don't know," said Ferry. "It's just the way I look, I suppose."
And just when Matt opened his mouth to ask another question (or more), a lean man appeared from around the corner.
"Mattie, let's go," he said, his glare on Ferry. "I've told you not to talk to strangers, haven't I?"
Matt took his father by the hand, then waved at Ferry with the other one.
"Bye, Ferry, see you at school. You'll come to school, won't you?" he called out while he walked away with his father.
Ferry was waving back at Matt when his mother came out of the bookshop, happily chatting, "Let's go, darling. I bought you a backpack, notebooks, a pen, and an ink-pot. Oh, and let's not forget the crayons, the most beautiful ones you could ever imagine. I can now say you are ready for school."
Ferry smiled back at her, and they both walked home with the warm sun watching them from above.
⃰
On the first day of school, Ferry woke up long before his parents did. He watched his uniform hanging on the closet's door for hours. He also loved his new cardboard backpack, decorated with joyful colored balloons.
At seven o'clock, they had breakfast together, and after Mr. Donovan went to work, his mother made the school snack for him — a giant sandwich with lettuce salad, slices of green apple, and cheese. Then she looked at him in his school uniform, and her eyes filled with tears.
"Please behave like the other children, my sweet boy," she said, kissing his forehead. "I know you're a special child and your mind sees the most wonderful things. But for your sake and mine, please try to behave like them and everything will be fine."
But no matter how Ferry behaved like the other children, with his special look and peculiar nature, he couldn't have gone unnoticed.
When they arrived in front of the school, he said goodbye to his mother and then entered the schoolyard, his heart racing with joy and excitement.
The third graders were placed two by two in a line before entering their classroom. In the schoolyard, Ferry met Matt. Matt turned out to be a girl. Her name was Matilda, and she was the daughter of Samuel Harper, the shoemaker. She was wearing a white blouse and a navy-blue skirt, the school's uniform. The blouse was rumpled, just like her skirt, and one of her socks had fallen down her leg, squeezing in around her ankle. Her shoes were not shiny and new and that surprised Ferry a bit since she was the shoemaker's daughter. But he didn't have the time to think about that. Matt took him by the hand, chattering about her dog, Shadow, who climbed a tree the other day.
"Have you ever seen a dog climbing a tree?" she said. "Well, my Shadow can."
Ferry thought it would be nice to say something flattering about Matilda's dog, but then something happened. He noticed a faint, familiar scent in the air. A sweet scent, of flowers, soap, and freshly washed clothes. Then a girl passed him by. He only saw her from behind, but he couldn't take his eyes away from her. She was wearing a uniform just like the other girls, but something about her was different. Maybe the fresh, white gardenias in her braids. Maybe the way the sun glittered in her auburn hair. Or maybe the frailty of her hands, white sprouts of lilies waving as she was walking. They all made him stand stock-still as if in front of a vision.
"Come, Ferry, we must go to our classroom," he heard Matilda say.
He followed her like awoken from a dream. In the classroom, Ferry chose the last desk so he could be protected from everyone's gaze as his mother had asked him. But that didn't stop the other children in his class from staring at him. Which didn't bother him too much since he was equally curious about the other children. Almost all the children in his class were now gathered around his desk. All but a girl sitting at the desk near the window. The girl with gardenias in her hair.
Every now and then, she watched him, too. But every time he caught her unaware, she hid behind a book with thick covers.
Meanwhile, Ferry was busy keeping up with everyone's questions.
"Is it true you haven't left the house for nine years?" asked a short, dark-haired boy with cinnamon skin and glasses.
"Nine years, two months and twenty-two days, to be exact," Ferry answered.
"Or that you sleep hanging from the ceiling, like a bat?" asked a skinny girl with freckles.
Ferry couldn't remember having ever slept that way, although he liked to climb everything.
"I heard he turns into a wolf when it's a full moon," said a chubby boy with a full mouth; he was eating from a chocolate croissant.
"Would you leave him alone?" Matilda rushed in his defense. She had chosen to sit next to him, in the back of the classroom. "Go back to your seats or you'll have to deal with me!" she shouted, and the children scattered at once.
Only one boy stood still. He was a tall boy, with vivid blue eyes and blond, soft hair. He was dressed flawlessly, his uniform tailored from the finest fabrics.
"I don't understand why everyone is making such a big fuss of him," he said, keeping his glare on their new, strange classmate.
Ferry felt his sight slowly starting to get blurry.
"He did nothing special to get so much attention," the boy continued. "In fact, my father said he suffers of--"
That moment, the teacher came into the classroom, and the children took their seats at their desks. The blond boy sat at the first desk by the window, near the girl with flowers in her hair.
The teacher was a young woman, tall and thin as a cane. Her brown eyes were jolly, and she greeted the children with the warmest smile on her face.
"Good morning, children! Welcome back to school!"
"Good morning, Miss Summer," the children answered in one voice.
Miss Beatrice Summer was not from Goodharts. She lived and studied in the Big City beyond the hills. Now, she rented a two-room small cottage, just a few houses away from Ferry's home.
Before calling the roll, Miss Summer asked the class to be quiet.
"I would like you to meet your new classmate, Andrew Donovan," she said in a gentle, yet firm voice. "Andrew, would you like to say something about yourself?"
At first, Ferry didn't realize Miss Summer was talking about him. Matilda's elbow in his ribs made him stand up, eventually.
"Actually, my name is Ferry. Everyone calls me Ferry," he said in a low voice.
Giggles and murmurs filled the classroom. The teacher looked at him with great interest. He was indeed a curious little boy. Definitely taller than children his age. With shiny, pale-blond hair and immaculate, pale skin.
"Ferry?" she wondered. "It says Andrew Donovan here..." she added, looking again at the paper in front of her.
"My great-grandfather's name was Ferdinand," Ferry said, just as his mother taught him.
"I see. Well, then welcome, Ferry," said Miss Summer, smiling at him. Ferry nodded, then sat down trying not to pay attention to the giggles in the class. Miss Summer continued and Ferry found out that the girl at the first desk was May Flower. The boy couldn't think of a better name. Then it was Cecilia Haughty's turn, a blonde little girl with a ponytail and blue eyes. She was the daughter of one of the sawmill's owners, Matilda whispered in his ear. Then, came Matilda Harper's turn, his only friend so far; she was paying attention to her sock that kept on falling around her ankle and almost missed when her name was called. The dark-skinned boy with glasses was Benjamin Knight, but everybody called him Ben. Then it was the blond boy's turn. His name was William Pride. And he was the son of the other owner of the sawmill, Matilda said again in his ear (a bit louder this time because all eyes turned to her).
The last was the chubby boy who still had chocolate on his mouth. His name was Daniel Stevens, but everyone called him Danny the Bully for he was the most feared little boy among the children his age.
Then, Miss Summer asked each child to draw what they loved the most. Matt drew her dog, Shadow, which looked more like a big, gray cow. Other children were drawing their families, toys or best friends. Ferry, on the other hand, drew a strange, beautiful being of light floating in the air, surrounded by the most unusual, spectacular flowers. It was the first time he was using crayons, but it felt like he had been drawing since forever. The flowers he was drawing seemed to come to life, more vivid and shining than the real ones.
Miss Summer walked from desk to desk, praising one pupil or the other. When she reached Ferry's desk, she couldn't believe her eyes, staring at the beautiful flowers decorating the paper.
"Where did you learn to draw so beautifully?" she asked.
"Nowhere," he said, shrugging. "It's like my hand is drawing by itself..." He was afraid to say it was the first time he was drawing, but that was exactly how he felt.
Miss Summer looked a little confused by his answer. Then, she moved to another desk, still thinking about the most beautiful flowers she had ever seen.
Ferry accepted Matilda's sincere praise while the murmurs and giggles in the classroom started again. And once more, all heads in class turned to him. Some were looking at him with envy, others with admiration and curiosity. May also smiled at him, and Ferry felt a funny warmth taking him over.
At home, he was so enthusiastic about school that even his father thought maybe Ferry going to school was a good idea, after all.
That night, Ferry went to sleep full of hopes and dreams. And then, when he was just about to fall asleep, it happened again. He heard a strange, otherworldly little voice, whispering in his ear.
You should thank me, Ferry. And you will, when the time shall come...
Thank you for taking the time to read this new chapter! Please vote and comment and bring Ferry's tale to the world. I'm more than anxious to know what you're thinking.