Source of Tomorrow

Alex Part Two

Without thinking, I run to my bed and sit how the boy was when he started talking to me. I try to look casual by looking down onto the white sheets and play with my fingers, like how Mr. Powell does when he's nervous or unsure of something.

Mr. Powell walks into my room and faces the window where I usually sit, but he is looking down at the floor. Because he is looking down I feel safe to look up at him.

"Good afternoon, Alexander. How are w-" He stops talking and looks at the window in surprise. For a moment I see shock across the left half of his face I can see. He begins to become frantic, and spins around fast not giving me much time to look back down at my bed. He seems a little confused that I am on my bed.

"Oh, there you are Alex. I will admit, it frightened me when I did not see you by the window. I was so used to seeing you over there,"

I mess with my fingers more trying to make it look like I'm in deep thought. It must have worked because Mr. Powell walks over to the window and looks out. Now he appears to be thinking. I can tell he is looking at the tree like I do. I only do that because that's what my mom used to do.

One day I walked into my father's office in the middle of spring. The leaves were coming back for the season and as bright green as they would get. Flowers were starting to pop up around the outside of the window where mom would always sit at when she wanted to think. She would stay there and sit for hours on end if she was troubled by something.

I found her sitting here by the window. She looked very peaceful in the moment. I glanced over at my dad in his office chair. At first I thought he was taking notes on his next project. Then I looked closer and noticed him sketching mom in the window. I knew that mom did not know he was doing that. She wouldn't like that all his attention was on her. She wasn't much of a fan of attention. I never knew that my dad could draw.

I had walked over next to him without making a sound, so mom wouldn't move. Looking over his shoulder I could the sketch perfectly. It was amazing. Everything about it was perfect. He was a true artist. He drew her blond hair flowing down her shoulders and back perfectly, and drew the curve of her jaw sharp just like it was in person. He was able to make her small dimples noticeable on the side of her face, and you could see her eyes somehow shining in black and white.

My father had looked over his shoulder to me, placing a finger over his lips shushing me and winked. They loved each other. Anyone could see that, even if they have never been in love before.

"So, Alexander, did you know that the sky is in love with the green land?" Mr. Powell interrupted my thoughts. I don't answer him remembering that talking is exactly what the boy wants me to do.

"You see, the blue sky loves the green land. It loves to look down and see what the land has to give to the world. It finds its green color calming when there are storms in the sky.

"When the green land is dull and brown, the sky becomes worried and rains to help the grass become vividly green yet again. The sky cries to help the land. In return, the land presents the sky with flowers of different colors, sizes and shapes." He pauses in his thought, letting his mind wonder off somewhere else. Somewhere far.

I look up starting to worry about him. How he describes the world sounds like a child would, or someone in love.

"Alexander," He looks down disappointed, or maybe embarrassed. I cannot tell the difference. "Have you ever loved anything, or anyone, that much? That you would cry so it would be happy with multiple colors? Have you?"

I continue to look up at him instead of looking back down at the sheets. I have loved someone that much. Three people, actually. My mother, my father and you, Mr. Powell. If only you knew that I cared for you like you were my dad. I should tell you. I should tell you that I want your help and I don't want to be alone any longer. But I know I can't do that. If I told you the real reason why I'm in here, you would keep me here.

He must know I have felt that way because he asks if I have. I do not say anything, though. It would be my perfect chance, but I still can't talk to him. Although, I really would love to. I want to talk to him and forget that boy that talks to me more than I would like.

"Would you like to hear about the key I found?" Mr. Powell moves on thinking that I won't say anything on the world subject. But I have already made my decision to talk to him, even if I don't say much. If he stayed on that I would talk, but he doesn't and I look back down onto the bed.

Mr. Powell stands there for a few more seconds, then says, "Tomorrow, Alex, I will tell you more of the world. If that is something you would like to listen to, of course." I look back up to him glad that he wants to talk about the world again. I do not want to wait until tomorrow, though. I do not want that boy talking to me in the morning again.

"Have a good day, Alex." Mr. Powell turns and walks towards the door.

But I stop him right before he opens the door saying, "The key is invisible."