Sounds floated in the air like big red balloons, bouncing off one another in lazy collisions that sent shimmering sparks raining down around Kevin Sallinen. He giggled, the echo of his own laughter making him happy. He felt the same way when his dad gave him chocolate milk with his Pop-Tart.
“Smart tart milk fart,” Kevin said, breaking out into gales of laughter. He fell onto his back and bumped his head on the thick carpet of his bedroom floor.
Flipping onto his stomach, he sprawled out, his laughter draining out of him in little sighs and hiccups. With his left cheek resting against the carpet, he flicked his finger at the thick fibers. Each scrape of his nail sent little plumes of dust billowing up like clouds rising into the sky. He blinked slowly as a tiny mote traveled across the long divide of his reach, sailing on crystal blue currents of air, to dance before him.
“Who who who, Lindy Sue?”
Kevin pursed his lips and carefully blew a ribbon of air at his little Whoville, sending the small world flying off to other adventures.
Drawing his legs under his body, he pushed up into a kneeling position. From this height, he could see the stuffed animals lying on his bed—Sponge Bob, a furry sheepdog, a white monkey with long arms and one gray foot—as well as his desk cluttered with piles of drawing paper and several boxes of crayons. A folding chair sat in front of the desk.
Kevin’s narrow face lit with excitement. He knee-walked over to his desk, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he tried to keep his feet from touching the ground, his skinny arms flapping to help keep his balance.
When one toe touched the carpet, he jerked both feet up hard. His heels dug into his butt. His tummy bowed out, and his head had little choice but to follow. With his hands still busy trying to keep the balance he’d already lost, his upper body slid forward and his forehead smacked hard into the edge of his desk. Pain shot over the top and around the sides of his head.
“Ayiee ahh!” Kevin cried as his hands finally grabbed the desk. With his eyes watering, he pulled himself up and sat on the chair. He stared at his reflection in the mirror that hung on the wall opposite him. There was a red mark on his forehead. He rubbed it with one hand, then brought up the other and jammed his thumbs in his ears. Wiggled his fingers. Stuck out his tongue. A giggle escaped from his lips. He blew air into his cheeks and crossed his eyes. Laughter overtook the giggles. He laughed so hard that his face turned red.
While Kevin gasped to regain his breath, a clearness spread inside him. It was as if someone had opened a dirty window and let the outside world stream in.
The outside world, and more.
Thoughts that were normally blocked or shunted off to meaningless areas of his brain found their correct paths. Connections, that since his birth had been so misaligned, nudged a little closer to true. He looked at the boy in the mirror, the one with rosy cheeks and tousled hair, the one who kept him company in his room.
“That’s me,” said Kevin.
He quickly snatched a sheet of paper and spilled a box of crayons. The clearness wouldn’t last long. Kevin closed his eyes.
Trees and mud surrounded him. He stood before a wide glade. Across the field of grass rose a low hill with a dark hole on its face like an open mouth screaming into the forest. A cave? He sensed that something lay inside, something that was here but shouldn’t be. And through it, he sensed another.
Thin fingers skimmed over the rainbow of wax sticks until he found the ones he needed. As he put crayon to paper, a name flashed through his mind.
Natalie.