As Strong As Steele

Chapter One

I have one blue eye and one white eye. The blue eye sees the truth, the white eye sees much, much more. People usually assume I'm blind in that eye, asking me pesky questions like, "Were you born that way?" or "What happened to you?" I usually reply with no, I wasn't born that way and that I got the eye by fighting off evil demons that managed to get a lucky shot in the end. Of course that isn't what actually happened, but you know what? who cares? It's hilarious to mess with people and I'm actually really popular with my younger brother's friends for being able to tell epic stories about how I "lost" my eyesight.

To tell the truth, I'm not blind. it's just that everyone assumes so because of my one white eye. I have no clue how the doctors didn't pick it up, so don't bother asking me. But before we get into that, my blue eye isn't normal either. You see, as I grew older from my ankle biter stage, I began to realize that what I was seeing wasn't normal. Now being the smart kid, I was, I didn't tell my parents that I could see perfectly fine from both eyes.

Instead, I kept it all to myself, experimenting during the nights and pretending to be a helpless kid during the day. My blue eye could see the truth. Like when my mother told me that doctor visits were "fun" and "exciting" I saw a translucent rat that was tinged red scampering around her head. It was weird, but I grew to like them, they were my guardians and warning signs. As more time passed, I cracked the code more and more. All lies were red, the half- truths purple, and all truths were a baby blue, the exact shade of one of my eyes.

The truths were always one animal. The golden retriever. The glassy pup would always stand guard next to me, a dopey grin on it's face and it's tail wagging happily behind him. He was my favorite, I saw him the most often and he became my own little pet. The ferocity of the animal indicated how dangerous the lie was.

The ranks go as such, the rat was the most harmless, a scorpion a mild threat, snakes are a potentially severe harm, and a crocodile signified mortal peril. I've only seen the blood red crocodile once, when the creepy man told me that there was candy in the old rickety van, a massive crocodile stalked a couple feet behind him, snapping its translucent jaws at the man. That alone was enough to make me sprint towards Mom and Dad. The man gave up after he spot my parents though, I'd wonder why, but I prefer not to think about it. the crocodile freaked me out a lot. Before we get into the details of my left eye, the white one, I'd like to say a little about myself.

A pleasure to meet you, my name Is Calum Steele, I'm currently 13 years old, I have neat black hair and less than average height (lack of sleep does that to you). I have little to no friends (but that doesn't bother me) , despite this, family is incredibly important to me and I put much effort into maintaining a positive relationship with not only my parents but my brother too. I am fond of pasta, my eyes, and reading books. I dislike bullies, people who act like I'm useless, and anyone who dares to mess with my family.

I'm the eldest child of two with an eight year old younger brother. Unlike me, Grayson (Gray for short) is completely normal. He has the same black hair as me and Mom but he has Dad's green eyes. I love him to death, he's my breath of fresh air from the social standards in the world. My Dad taught me how to shoot a gun, telling me that it was for self protection purposes only. I've lived by that rule, and I treat the small handgun like my animals. Dangerous but there to help me should I need it. My mom taught me the wonder of books and imagination. We have a giant library with all sorts of books, the fiction ones are my favorite. I believe I've stalled enough though, onto the topic of my left eye.

My white eye is almost always covered by a sort of eye patch or black sunglasses. I don't like it when people stare, the eye patch is one way to lessen the stares. But the few times I do take off my eye patch, something magical always happens.

The first time it happened, I was probably 9 or 10 years old, my parents were out and the babysitter was sleeping on the couch so I carefully took off my eyepatch and looked at the milky white eye in the mirror. My attention turned to my stuffed animal, it was a golden retriever exactly like truth's guardian. I remember myself wishing I could hold it and play fetch with it as I couldn't actually touch my truths and lies. Just then, I felt a surge of warmth and comfort and the stuffed dog began to move. Before you panic, let me assure you it wasn't like a horror movie situation where the doll moves and tries to kill me in my sleep. The dog was incredibly cute and I spent the rest of the day playing with it. I was a little sad to see it go, but the dog only stayed animated for about two hours.

Since then, I've experimented anytime I could. I also got into the habit of carrying a little golden retriever figurine everywhere I go. I claimed it was my "seeing eye dog" even though I didn't actually need a service dog, it was a good cover. I've made the dog do all sorts of tricks, but I realized that the power had a few limitations as well. For one, I couldn't control more than one thing at a time (not for lack of trying, I assure you). Second, i had to have a good view when trying to animate the object in mind. Another was that I couldn't make them stay for more than four hours. I mean, the more I practiced the better I got and the longer I could keep it up, but at the four hour mark I passed out from exhaustion. I've been getting better though, when I was 10 I could only do two hours, now I can keep it up for four hours. Might i mention that all of this was done without my parents knowing? I'm a little rebel, i know.

Like most kids my age, i find school a bore. Why should i waste seven hours a day surrounded by mindless idiots when I could be with my brother? Or increasing my ocular prowess? Even my piano lessons would be better than this. All of my year mates are immature and useless. They're whiny and loud and haven't a single idea on the definition of personal space. The teachers weren't any better either. I chose not to participate because they are below me, trying to get me to answer their pathetic questions and questioning my intelligence. It makes Mom upset if I get bad grades though, so I try to keep up a substantial grade without gathering attention to myself. The only reason I entertain myself with Gray's friends because they were tolerable and some of them were, dare I say it... Cute. Of course none of them even came close to my brother, but still, I found the company of the younger generation much more enjoyable than the annoying flies that would never fit to be my peers. A bit arrogant of me, but that's me and this is my life.