Being Wrong | ✓

Part 2

Wakefulness settled in slowly, and then all at once as the unfamiliar environment startled Charlie awake. Memories of what had happened last night settled in, but none of it felt real. How could so much have changed so quickly?

Before Charlie now was a new life, but all he could do was lay in the bed they'd told him was now his and count the flowers on the bedspread. This bed was bigger than the one he'd had at his dad's house, softer, cleaner. Better in every way he could think of, but somehow wrong in its differentness. He tried burying his head under the blankets and found that too much light and not enough air filtered through.

Eventually there was a quiet knock on the door, and then a second later it slid open a crack and Charlie's grandpa peaked in. He seemed surprised to see Charlie awake. For a second it seemed like he might just turn and leave, but then the door opened all the way and he stepped just inside the doorway. "So. You're up, then."

Charlie made a quiet, noncommittal sound. He wasn't up, but he was awake, and he figured that was what his grandpa probably meant.

Charlie's grandpa looked around the small room. "This place isn't really set up for a teenage boy, eh? Guess we'll have to get you some new sheets and curtains and such like. Ones without flowers."

Charlie looked around the room and found himself relaxed by its simplicity. Just a bed and a nightstand with a lamp on it as far as furnishings went, plus a built in closet that looked large enough to hide in.

The long, flowery purple curtains covered a sliding glass door that opened onto the back garden, giving Charlie a welcome sense of freedom. He still wasn't sure how he felt about the rest of the house, but Charlie decided he liked his new room.

Charlie's hand moved to scratch the back of his neck, though it didn't itch, and he shrugged. "I don't mind flowers."

Silence fell for a moment as Charlie's grandpa shifted against the doorframe, and it was only then that Charlie realised that those were the first words he'd spoken to any of them. Maybe they hadn't even known he still could speak. His grandpa pushed a smile onto his face that looked strained and not at all real. "Well, I reckon the first time you have friends over and they make fun of you, you'll change your mind about that."

"I'll make nicer friends."

"Son, even the nicest kid is going to think you're a pansy if your room is covered in flowers."

"Pansy..." Charlie repeated. That was a kind of flower. "What?"

Charlie's grandpa shook his head and when he spoke, his tone had softened. "Don't worry about it. We'll get you some new ones."

Charlie wasn't worried, he just didn't understand, but it didn't seem like an explanation was forthcoming so he let it drop.

"We didn't know where you were," Charlie's grandpa said after a stretch of silence. "With your dad, yeah?"

Charlie nodded.

Charlie's grandpa echoed the nod. "And your mum. Do you... know what happened?"

Charlie nodded. His throat felt tight. He hoped he wouldn't have to say what had happened, because he didn't think he could.

"The police said it was probably just an accident, but then you were gone and we didn't know. Maybe he'd done something so he could take you, or maybe someone else had taken you. There was a lot of not knowing."

"I called him. To come and get me," Charlie said, because that was all he could say. His voice sounded wrong even to his own ears. Unsteady. Thick.