kaito james lancelot, book 1, chapter 2

Chapter 2-meet my mother-and to some extent, my father:
Jimmy wanted to help me up to my apartment unit but I told him not to since it was already late. It took me ten tries and a promise to rub anti-septic on my cuts before he helped me to the stairs and reluctantly left in the taxi after biding goodbye.
I smiled as I watched the taxi turn the corner and brought Jimmy home. He was a great friend that jimmy-but a little overprotective. Though it should be me protecting him from bullies and such, not the other way round. He was shy and timid. But too bad that he would leave my like all my other friends had once he sees me use my “powers” the next day when Bruce and the maybe half the students confront me.gulp.
I sighed loudly and made my ways up the rusty metal stairs. A rat crossed my path. I ignored it. I was used to seeing pests around my apartment. It looked up at me with pleading eyes, as if it was begging for a morsel to nibble on. I gave it an apologetic face and feeling guilty, I reached into my pocket and pulled out what seemed to be the remains of my lunch today- plain tuna sandwich…or was it yesterday’s? I’m not sure, I get the same lunch everyday.
Untying the knot I made on the plastic bag, I flipped it over and emptied the contents of it in a corner. The mouse gave a squeak, which could have almost been a squeak of joy and suddenly, seven more mice scattered from behind the debris in the corridor and gathered before the grubby sandwich.
Smiling I squatted down and watched the mice tuck into the sandwich. As I watched, I felt a sense of nostalgia. I looked up and frowned. The eight mice eating and sharing together made me feel something, but I’m not sure what. I gave the mice one last glance before getting on my feet.
“Eight eh? That’s a lucky number.” I muttered under my breath. After trying to flatten by badly ruffled hair and smooth out any creases in my clothes, I got into my best “Oops, I tripped and fell, I’m so clumsy” pose and proceeded to knock on the cold, rusty metal door.
My knock echoed throughout the corridor and I heard a warm, familiar voice say “coming!” before the door was pulled opened, flooding both the cold corridor and I with light.
I grunted and squinted my eyes against the sudden burst of light and saw a figure, slender and petite, standing silhouetted and holding the door open for me.
Smiling, I heard my mother’s cheerful and bubbly voice saying “welcome home son….” Before it was replaced with a horrifying screech.
I winced in pain as the scream echoed though the corridor, bouncing along the walls and back to my ears, causing me more pain.
“ Mom…mom…MOM! Calm down!” I yelled
I felt her small but firm hands drag me into the room. I was sent sprawling to the couch and I found my self with a cushion stuffed in my mouth, my body in an awkward position.
“Mom! Please calm down! I just tripped!” I pleaded with her with my best puppy dog eyes, hoping that it would work.
“NO! it could get infected! “ so much for that. My mum seemed to have a heart of steel when it came to cuts. She could memories from heart almost every single infection and its cause, ranging from even the most tiniest, frivolous scratch made from a hardly rusty nail to the most…erm its best that I not say the rest. Trust me, you wouldn’t want to know.
Heaving a sigh, I gave in and sat on the couch.
“That’s a good boy kai, now wait here while mommy fetches some anti-septic.” her cooing would have made any boy my age cringe in disgust and could even made them sick. But as impossible as it seems, my body seems to have puked more than enough times and I had developed a sort of immunity to this kind of things.
As my mother ransacked the medicine cabinet, which, as poor as we were, seemed to be always stocked with all sorts of medicine, I looked at my surroundings. We lived in a two-room apartment. It was stocked with a small stove and an armchair beside the fireplace. A small table stood in the kitchen, accompanied with two equally pathetic looking stools Unless you call a square hole in the wall with no chimney a fireplace the brickwork had been lousily done and the place badly needed a paint job. Other wise, I guess you could call this the living room.
I got up and went to the other room. There was nearly nothing in this room except for a small hard bed , covered with thin white rags which was a sad excuse for a bed sheet. A Small tiny pillow rested on the frame. On the opposite side of the room was a small couch. That was where my mother slept. Yeah ,yeah. I know, I sleep on the bed. You can lecture me on the philosophy of respecting your parents and whatever. But listen to me. It was my mom’s choice. She practically forced, yes, FORCED me to sleep on the bed. But believe me, the bed is not as comfortable as you think it would, in fact, I think the couch is a hundred times better.
And then there is one last thing…the picture. It hangs as the only decoration on the bare wall. It’s a picture of my father. At least, a picture of the bottom half of my dad’s face. His name is Raicle Lancelot.
You see, years back, when I was four, my mom kind of got into this small row with the landlord about her not paying the rent on time…and yeah, he kind of got violent and started a one-man rampage on the apartment. And as you could have guessed, he ravaged my father’s picture. Though my mother manage to save one small part… the bottom part of his face. She framed it up and it is currently her most treasured possession.
Ah yes, my father. I do not know much about him. Partly because my mom rarely even talks about him and partly because I was about two when he went missing. Yes, and I mean missing. Wonder how I know that? Well, during one of those “rare” sessions when my mother talks about him. I finally managed to persuade her to tell me about him. And when I mean persuade, I mean threatening to start smoking and guzzle on booze all day. Of course, I did not mean it, but it was nearly enough to give her a heart attack and I had to spend an hour trying to calm her down.
So she had finally told me the long anticipated story of my father. I could remember every sentence of it. however, with the way she said it, full of “emotion” I’m sure you wouldn’t want to hear it. so I’ve simplified it and tried to make it as normal as possible. Here goes.
It seems that my dad was some kind of fisher man. He owned a sail boat and every day, he would sail all the way to the magnificent, sandy beaches of long island and fish there. And he would always return home, and without fail, he would always have a great catch and he and my mum would have a lovely dinner… ah hem. Sorry any way, as I said before when I was two years old, he went out to sea and yes, he never returned. It was an “ominous day” as my mother had put it. the sky had a “ dark gloomy, hue” and she felt that “bad things were going to happen.” But my father, reluctant to break his usual habit, foolishly said that “It’ll be alright dear, what could happen?” and had set off.
Those were the last words that she ever head from him. Oh! The irony of life!
After that the usual things happened. The police came and told her what had happened and like the movies, she had got one her knees and sobbed her heart out and again, like the movies, I was standing at the bedroom door, peering out and sucking my fingers, not understanding what was going on.
It had seemed that they found his sail boat, wrecked on the coast line… near a place called “eddy eddie ” at long island. Although I did not think much of it then… but now I wondered. What in the world was my father thinking sailing there? My mother always said he was a careful man. He never tripped and always thought before he leapt-unlike me. Anyway as I was saying, an experienced sailor such as him lost would most probably steer clear of that place.
Also, one final fact bothered me. There was no body found. His boat was found with all his shipping supplies but there was no body. Therefore, I believe that he is still alive,, but very much alive. Though my mother tried not to get my hopes up and said that his chances of survival were very slim, I still clung on to this tiny hope. Somehow, clinging on to this made his lost much easier to bear. But if he WAS somehow, incredibly still alive, why hadn’t he returned? That though puzzled me but did nothing to waver my faith in him being alive.
I looked up at his picture and saw his smile. Although it was just a picture, that smile never failed to cheer me up whenever I was down.
I guess that its also because of my father that my mom still puts up with this apartment and the stinking land lord that was taking advantage of the situation and ripping my mother off. It was also the reason why she was so over protective of me. I looked just like my father in terms of looks and I reminded her of him. She also won’t even let
“ kai! Come here and I’ll apply the anti-septic for you!” smiling, I shook my head and taking one last look at the smile on the wall, I walk out of the room, closing the door shut beind me.