After two months, the teacher becomes conscious of the fact she’s never heard of or seen the child. She speaks to the school principal, who checks the student enrollment list. There is no “Laura Benton” on it. They decide to call Victor into the office the next day and inquire.
“School? Laura? I mean, she, she … oh, yeah. She’s home-schooled. Very educated for her age.”
“Hmm,” replies the principal, convinced by Victor’s explanation. “I guess that settles it,” letting out a sigh, cheerful the boy has a friend.
Victor’s heart sings when he’s with this lass. For two years, he’s as happy as a lark. His troubles vanish within the dank, narrow walls of her home. A person can hear the laughter and giggles of children emanate clear outside.
In the early morning hours one fall day, Victor, age ten, awakes screaming. The others ignore it, writing it off as a dreadful nightmare. Later in the chilly, overcast morning, as the kids leave home for the slog to school, they notice an ambulance in front of the house. Victor’s siblings race toward it, not realizing he’s moving at a snail’s pace. As they arrive, paramedics are loading the stretcher. A body is on it, but they can’t see.
“Who is it? What happened?”
One first responder answers, “The lady passed away in the middle of the night. Poor thing. She was deaf, mute, and blind since birth. She’s 101. If it wasn’t for her sister’s call from California, who knows how long she’d be here a week until the caretaker stopped in.”
“Oh, no. She must be the great-grandmother. Is her great-granddaughter, our brother’s friend, okay?” asks the oldest child.
“No. It must be her great-great-grandmother,” chimes the sister.
Perplexed, the man says, “Granddaughter? There’s no one else living here. She never had children and lived alone.”
As they turn to question Victor, they observe he has not caught up to them. His head hangs low and his look is one of distress. The rest of the walk is in the sounds of silence. They realize they never saw the young girl Victor spent so much time with.
His father never divulged his mixed-race ethnicity, not even to his offspring. Yet Victor experiences a strong identity with whatever it is. He feels different from others, and the mystery dogs him. Unlike others, he possesses keen perception and a psychic mentality, but it’s ineffectual towards himself.
Intensive counseling spans the 4th grade, and Mrs. Dark turns resentful toward her children. She’s a relic of the 60s; sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll. Woodstock vestige. The predecessor to the “me” generation they shaped.
Because of his tumor, the school nurse sees Victor a lot during the 5th grade. Visits to her office are for good cause, as he needs to receive shots of a new treatment and rest to recuperate energy. The daily treks grow with the onset of hypochondriac illnesses. She guides the lad for months to bring forth his hidden talent. A heretofore unknown flair for theatrics lies dormant inside and needs release.
His brain tumor has a significant effect on his critical thinking and cognitive judgment. It also causes a hearing loss in his left ear, as well as depth perception issues. A beautiful individual, misplaced in past misery, held close for fear of anything different. His smile is his warmest attribute, visible on the outside. Frowns and wounds scar his innards like the long-ago healed damage on his body.
Victor’s favorite acting role to play is of an alien. A fresh ray of sunshine bursts forth inside him when transformation into a creature from another planet takes place. It’s not a matter of donning a costume; rather, a complete alteration occurs while in character. He’s at peace with himself and the world.
His first performance is in 5th grade while he attends Public School 19. He plays a Martian who falls in love with an earth girl. The audition judges are in awe one so young could grasp the part and bring a fictitious alien to vibrant life. They have never seen anything like it. A fun show, but with a serious tone, it strikes the audience with an uncanny reaction at Victor’s change into the being. For more than a minute, many have an eerie feeling something from another world is among them.
Every school day, he goes to the field next to the building. A vacant lot with an abundance of dandelions sits on the east side. He’s fascinated by them and picks a splay for his teacher. To him, they hold a mystery.
Victor attends Forest Garden High School in a new section of town. His core studies include the performing arts. He graduates in 2003 with an above-average GPA and honors in theatrics. In productions of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, rave reviews and comments always follow: he is better than the original actor in the role of Rocky Horror. And no one ever forgets his extraordinary, unnerving portrayal of an alien.
Victor starts smoking at 15 and sticks with the proverbial Marlboro Reds for years. In his late twenties, the switch to little cigars takes place.
He is a genius at video and electronic games and uses the phrase, “kiss my ass” a lot when playing.
No matter what age, it’s terrible to feel old. At 16, Victor thinks he is. If not in maturity, in psyche.
“I’ll take your cherry,” said the girl with long, flowing hair.
Victor replies, “You will?”
“Yes, I want to,” says the young beauty. It is her first time.
Victor, 17, knew years before this watershed moment he is straight. He harbors no doubt. Excitement at the prospect of his first lay flashes over him. Masturbation has become boring. Both he and the lass figure they’ll do what comes natural, but the entire act proves awkward. No one forgets their first time. They never engage in sex with each other again.
Like millions of teens, he does a stint at McDonald's, with employment lasting six months. It is not pragmatic to criticize the menu ingredients or preparation processes of your employer at work and on social media. This is when his anti-corporation beliefs formulate.
In the last year of its production, Victor purchases a Daewoo. It becomes the butt of jokes. A crafty one is thought of off the cuff by a co-worker. The first day Victor arrives to work in it, comments are made. As he clocks in for his shift, one of them asks, “New car, huh?”
“Yeah,” says Victor.
“What kind is it?”
“A Daewoo.”
“A Daewoo? What did you do, open an account at a bank?” comes the reply.
“Huh?” asks Victor.
“Yeah, they gave you a choice between a toaster and a Daewoo. You chose the Daewoo.”
Laughter erupts among the workers while Victor’s head droops.
“Can you even use that in a sentence?” asks one.
“It’s a great day. WOO!” comes a voice in the background.
“I’ll show them.” Little does he know he’ll be chauffeured in an armored Suburban one day and own a Lamborghini, a Maybach, and a 2020 P-51 Combat Fighter motorcycle. The bike is brutal and built to last. Fresh energy and power are breathed into it. With a top speed of over 160 miles per hour, this monster of demonic velocity is priced at $130,000.00.