The Anomalies

Chapter 1: The Problem Child

Malia

"Alexander, who is it?" Mom called out, her voice slightly annoyed by the disturbance of our normal daily routine. She wandered into the living room just as Dad opened the door because he didn't answer her quickly enough.

Phillip sat in front of me, twisting my doll's head around and around. As long as I didn't overreact, he would stop soon, and break one of his toys instead. My big brother mostly enjoyed breaking my toys, especially when he saw how much it made me cry. I never understood why he took pleasure in torturing me, but I loved him just the same. I always insisted on doing whatever he got to do because I wanted to be exactly like my idol, unless it involved destruction and screaming. No matter what awful thing he did, he was always going to be my big brother.

The only thing we had in common were our blue eyes, but his were duller, closer to grey, like a cloudy day. Most people didn't know we were siblings because my dark hair and chubby face contradicted his blonde hair and boney features. He was pale while I was tan, but most people told me I looked more like my dad, so I shouldn't have been so surprised. Even at the age of four, people constantly compared me to him while Phillip looked more like Mom.

Dad cleared his throat and opened the door a little more; I intently watched him even though I hadn't been listening to his conversation, and was too young to fully understand. "And what is this in regards to, Agent Katalina?" he gently asked as he let the strange woman walk into our home.

She was old, like grandma, but short and fat. Something about her scrunched up face made her look mean, and even older than my grandma. Her nose was long and pointy, and she seemed all around grotesque. I didn't like her, or her grey hair, so I went back to playing with my dolls.

A doll's head rolled towards me, and Phillip stared at me with a blank face. Then, he folded his hands in his lap, and carefully watched the witch lady. He was behaving for once in his short life, and I didn't know why he cared to act good in front of this stupid intruder.

"Your son, Phillip, we must take him in for testing," the woman answered. When I looked up, her steely eyes were focused on my brother, like he was her target, and nothing was going to get in the way of her getting what she wanted.

Mom stepped towards the lady with fire blazing in her eyes. "He just had a checkup, and the doctor said he's fine. He does not need to go in for further testing," she immediately argued, her words flying through the air like bullets. Her eyes narrowed as she challenged the agent. "You are not taking my son."

The woman ignored her, and looked to Dad as if he would be on her side. "You know the importance of testing the genetically mutated. Alex, we believe your son shows symptoms of ADHD, and we need to cure him. You know as well as I do that this is routine, and ADHD is curable when treated in this early stage," she insisted without a hint of emotion in her voice. "This isn't a question, it's an order." She handed a tablet over to him, expecting him to sign his five year old away.

"ADHD is already curable, so why does he need to go in? Shouldn't he be able to get the cure at any hospital?" he asked as his eyes scanned the screen, and then he knitted his eyebrows together.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "He exhibits other signs of mental illness. ADHD is only the top layer, so to speak, of his condition," she explained, and then she looked back at us. This time her grey eyes inspected me, like she would find something wrong with me simply by looking.

"Phillip doesn't have any of these symptoms. In fact, he's quite the opposite. Look, he's quiet and hardly speaks. Of all the reasons to take him in, I assumed it would be the fact that he's developing slower than most kids his age," Dad rambled, shaking his head at the report. "I can't sign this when you have the wrong symptoms listed. You'll be testing him for the wrong mutation."