Three weeks passed and Armando had seen the figure a few more times. He brought it up at meals a few times but after Georgina avoided his questions, he stopped talking about it. He'd walk around the property alone, talking to himself often. Georgina spent hours in her room, filling out forms to enroll Armando in a technological school close by. By June 12th, Armando was settled into the house and began to make his room his own.
"Armando, come here." Georgina called for him from the balcony. Armando joined her quickly, not wanting to keep her waiting. "It was come to my attention that your 15th birthday is but two days away. Would you like a celebration?"
"Yes please ma'am! I haven't really had a birthday party since I was a kid. I'd really like another one.." he said , looking down the whole time. "If it wouldn't be any trouble to you.."
"No trouble at all. I'll bake cupcakes and tarts for you. Maybe some lemon cookies if you behave." she gave a soft smile, something she rarely gave to anyone. At that, she walked off into the house, leaving Armando in the cool evening air, watching the setting sun over the green trees. When he went back to his room, he found a note telling him to meet in the gardens after dark. That night, Armando went out into the gardens, where he found Henry standing at the edge of the property, looking out into the trees.
"Henry..? What's going on..?" He stood with the old keeper, confused.
"I've been taking care of this house since before Georgina owned it. I know every inch of the grounds and property." he looked at the young man "And I know every story it holds."
"Stories..?"
"You've seen The Boy. The figure who lives or..lived in this house.." Henry sat down on a stone bench and sighed. "There's local legends about him. Kids see him standin' in the top right window of the house. He's said to be the dead son of Ms. Wells. Said she adopted the kid and one day, poof, he's gone.." There was a moment of silence before Armando burst out laughing.
"Oh my god Henry! Do you really think you can scare me with some shitty story about a dead kid? Sure, Ms. Wells is a little strict but she wouldn't kill her own child!" Armando doubled over in laughter.
"This ain't a joke boy!" Henry huffed, stroking his grey beard. "It's clear you don't believe me. But you'll see. You'll believe it one day and you'll regret laughing at an old man just trying to help." With that, he stood and stomped off, his boots squishing against the soft moss.
Armando caught his breath, watching the puffs of steam in the air. After a strong gust of wind, he went back inside and to his room. Despite how little he believed Henry, he couldn't help but feel The Boy was watching him somewhere. He didn't sleep much that night.
His birthday came and Georgina had to run some emergency errands, leaving Armando alone in the house. Well, not completely alone. He sat on the stairs, completely zoned out, when he felt something brush his shoulder and saw movement out of the corner of his eye. His guard went up and he jumped up, taking a knife from his pocket. From the shadows and small squeak came and he saw a figure crouch down onto all fours, almost like a feral animal.
"Knife! Down!" the figure said. It sounded both like a frightened child and a young woman. Armando lowered the knife and the figure crept out of the corner. There, on all fours, was a boy with short brown hair, scarred arms and clothes too big for his body. He slowly stood, keeping his knees bent as though he was ready to jump. Armando stood there frozen.
"What..who..huh?" Armando muttered. The young man ran over and slapped the knife out of his hand, throwing it across the hall. He then stood to his full height, not much shorter than Armando. He began to examine Armando, looking him over.
"Armando Roux Price, 15 years old, 119 pounds, 5 foot 5. Perfect." The smaller boy then ran off, his footsteps almost inaudible. Armando stood there in shock.
"What the fuck?!"
