I was sick. I was ten years old as of that very morning, and I had a fever, cough, and a headache.
The room was swirling around me, I felt so dizzy, even though I had been lying in bed since I woke up. It was turning out to be the rottenest birthday ever, and it only got worse.

I started imagining things.

My mother walked into my bedroom and closed the door behind her. I tried to sit up but my stomach literally felt as though it had a ten-pound brick inside of it. “Happy Birthday, my birthday girl!” my mother said with a cheery grin on her face.

“Mom,” I croaked. “I’m not feeling very well—”

I sneezed four times and my bed withstood an earthquake. I coughed and coughed and a hammer was beating my head.

“Oh, honey, you sound awful.” My mother said. “Do you want to just stay in bed? I’ll go get the thermometer. You can open the gift Gran sent you and Mrs. Pennyweather sent you whenever you want to…”

She kept talking, but I wasn’t listening. I had just realized, with a swooping horror, that my mother did not look normal. Neither did my blanket…or my carpet…or the…the…the entire room…

Everything had this creepy blue aura surrounding it like an electric glow, like it had been taken over by a ghostly shadow. My mother was wearing the kind of masks that surgeons wear when they’re about to operate! I screamed as I saw the blue scrubs, white gloves, and apron she was straightening out now—

“Maurcie! Are you all right? What’s wrong, what’s wrong?!”

Her voice! It was blasting into my ears like she had a megaphone up to her mouth. It screeched and squawked like never before—what was wrong with me? Was it the sickness? Had I gone insane? Was there any explanation to the way the image of my mother as a doctor getting more and more realistic, or the way the blueness in my room dazzled before my eyes and the sound in my ears pounded like sirens?

I felt my forehead burn with fiery fever one last time before my stomach dropped along with the brick and I could feel no more, I was unconscious.

Three Years Later


School transfer. It was like those were the only two words my mother could make come out of her mouth. Really, she would not stop talking about how much I would love it at Graceland Middle School and how the bus ride wouldn’t really be a problem, sure I was an hour long but I could do homework as I waited to start my day! Because, after all, homework was exactly what I wanted to do at five in the morning.

My mother most likely thought I was nervous about going to a new school. Apparently, I had a condition. I was special, and when my parents whispered about it at night and I eavesdropped on them, they said things ranging from I had an “over-active imagination” to I wasn’t “right in the head.”

My head felt just fine. I had never been able to forget that killer fever I had once when I was ten, the fever that seemed to start everything wrong in my life. Other than that my head had always been normal. My eyesight, however, had some problems. I had been to the optometrist and psychologist and all those other people who were “highly interested in my case” but could never seem to figure out what my case exactly was. Other than my condition there is nothing wrong with me, as they say. Except for the obvious attention problems. I argued with all the specialists my mother and father introduced me to. I told them they would have attention problems too if their teacher suddenly took on the form of a potato, dropped the marker for a magic wand and sang the rest of the lesson in a Middle Eastern accent.

I imagine things, things that should not be there and things that have never been there before. Other people do not see these things, they do not hear or sense what is happening to me. And the only explanation I had ever been able to come up for this was that these things were only happening to me.

Graceland Middle School “had the resources I needed to successfully make it through eighth grade.” They contacted my parents when they heard of me; I was a wonder to all the doctors in my area. My parents went to a meeting with the principal of Graceland and they came back as changed people. They treated me like they actually believed what I was saying, however ridiculous it sounded. They allowed me to blame the broken glass in the living room on my pet (that was invisible to everyone but me) dove, Rebecca. They quieted their voices when I told them their tones were ringing off the walls. Whatever happened at that meeting, the outcome was that I felt closer to my parents than I had ever been. My brother Ernest still thoroughly believed I was making everything up. He had a reason to; after all, I only started seeing things after my tenth birthday. But why would I have wanted to make it up?

I couldn’t imagine anyone who would want the life of being a freak, of never being understood or taken seriously.

Four Weeks Later


“Sunshine on my leaves shines off like golden bees on their way to the meadow far, far below the weeping willow. Sunshine, sunshine! Cloudy day, please pretty please go away, forever and ever may your clouds stay far, far away!”

You can know what to expect from a place by the way the plants sound around it. Of course, only I could hear the flowers sing on the flowerbeds lining the walkway into Graceland Middle School on my first day, but that’s not the point.

Graceland was a friendly place, I knew because the flowers were chanting a happy song. They were smiling graciously up at me and cheering, “New child, school child, up you go! As we bend our green leaves we will watch you grow, from the halls to the walls we can see right through, new child, school child, we greet you!”

“Thanks you all,” I said as kindly as I could. My legs wobbled from being on the bus for so long. My backpack slumped to my side.

I heard the flowers draw in a collective gasp. “She can hear! She is near! Another one has come to learn, another one, fire fever burn! Here another one comes to stay, the imagining minds not far away!”

Another one of what? I thought, slightly annoyed but curious all the same. Fire fever burn. Fire fever…I had always called my traumatizing fever when I was ten that. It felt like flames were engulfing my head.

I turned my attention back to the school. This was all in my head. No wonder the flowers were saying something about the fire fever, only I could hear them and I was making up the words they were saying. I thought this, but I knew it would be hard to completely convince myself.

I headed straight to the office; it wasn’t hard because there was a map of the school tacked onto the outside brick wall. As soon as I looked at it, my brain literally took a picture and as I wobbled past the first corner I was able to pull out my map and check to see if I was going in the correct direction. I wasn’t, so I turned around…promptly walking into a janitor. A huge janitor.

The guy was troll-sized.

“Oh…hello,” I said in a tiny voice.

“Hey.” He barked down at me. I knew he was going to have a loud voice, being so large, but I jumped any way. “What is your name? I’ve never seen you before. Say, are you that new kid that’s supposed to come today?” he said still more loudly, his enormous eyebrows wiggling up and down. I found it disturbing that I couldn’t tell if this was my condition, or if his wooly eyebrows were really that talented.

“Yeah…my name is Maurcie Green. I…I was just finding my way to the office.”

“Oh, I can take you there!” he said happily. “By the way, my name’s Pot Roast, but most people call me PR for short.”

He twisted and began walking in the direction my mental map told me the office was in. I was standing still, gaping at his back. “Are you coming, Greeny?” he asked me.

“I guess so,” I finally said, starting off and shaking my head, hoping to rid it of the thought, what kind of a name is Pot Roast?

I waited in front of the desk at the office while Pot Roast went off to find Mrs. Lautta. I didn’t know who she was, but she probably was going to get me my schedule. I hoped Pot Roast would find her quickly, because if I stayed in one place for too long when I had nothing to do, I would see some serious illusions.

He came back quickly, though, with Mrs. Lautta and a mop almost as tall as him. “You can go now to the science hallway,” she said to him. “There aren’t many students there, so you won’t run into trouble or anything. Come back five minutes before the bell rings, and don’t forget to take your…” she whispered the last word so I could not hear it.

Pot Roast stomped away, his broom swinging dangerously from side to side and almost falling down on me.

Mrs. Lautta was a very petite woman. Her small, diamond shaped face and brownish grey hair framed the oddest eyes I had ever seen. Not only was the brown color stirring around her iris like soup in a cooking pot, but they were almost glowing. They were wide, and much larger than any other eyes I could remember. I stopped staring at them when Mrs. Lautta cleared her throat and beckoned me behind the desk.

“Maurcie,” She said in a motherly tone. “It’s very nice to meet you. My name is Mrs. Lautta. You will probably be spending a lot of time with me this year,” she continued. “Your first class will have to wait a couple of more minutes, because I need for you to take a test in my office really fast. It’s only going to be a couple of questions, you’ll be out and about the school in no time.”

“Okay,” I said, distracted by the wallpaper, which was wiggling around the walls like it was late for an appointment. She’s just some kook who thinks she knows what’s wrong with me, I thought gloomily as I followed her down a corridor and into a musty room with an ugly purple-green carpet.

“You can sit there,” she said, pointing to a chair in front of her mahogany desk. I sat, and waited as she fixed a picture frame on the wall. It enclosed an abstract, colorful piece of artwork that looked as though someone had taken every color of the rainbow and tried to place every line design they could think of on one paper. Mrs. Lautta tapped it with her finger, and the ringing in my ears that I only noticed when it was gone went away instantly.

“Now, Maurcie,” She huffed, sitting down in her chair, taking out a packet of paper, and placing it in front of me. “I have a couple of things to ask you so I can get to know you better. First of all, how are you today?”

“Good.” I answered simply, feeling more and more anxious as I realized I hadn’t seen any illusions since I entered the room.

“Are you nervous at all about starting in a new school? Do you think you’ll miss any of your friends?” she asked politely, taking objects out of her desk. A pen, more paper, a coffee mug, a scarf.

“Well, to be honest, I wasn’t very close to my friends…” I admitted, looking at the floor once I imagined her pulling a cat from the desk. The cat stayed on the top of it, mewing softly and purring like a car that refused to start. “And I’m glad I’m here, it’ll be a good chance to…you know…start over…”

I stopped talking when Mrs. Lautta began petting the bluish-grey cat. “Her name is Isete.” She told me. “And that’s very good, Maurcie, what a wonderful way to start the new school year!”

I ignored that comment as politely as I could. “Excuse me, did you just pull that cat out of your desk drawer?” I asked incredulously.

Mrs. Lautta stared at me and her brown eyes stirred again. They were the color of melted chocolate, lapping in waves around her iris. “Yes, but she’s perfectly fine in there. Isete is a very special animal. I’m sure you’re familiar, you have a pet dove who is quite the same.” Mrs. Lautta raised her hand in a signal. I looked above my head, and saw Rebecca, my beautiful white dove circling around me. Rebecca flew over to Mrs. Lautta, resting on her shoulder.

I stood from my chair. “You can’t see Rebecca! You shouldn’t know about her, only I do! My parents told you, didn’t they?” I accused her loudly.

“Please sit down, Maurcie. I was only trying to show you that you and I have quite a bit in common. I can see Rebecca, and so can you. I can see Isete, and so can you. But your parents can’t see Rebecca, nor can they see Isete. Right?” She said calmly.

“Yeah, I…yeah.” I sat back down, a bit embarrassed by my outburst. “Why can’t they, though?”

“We’ll get to that later. Tell me, when did you start seeing these images? Your parents told me some of the ones that worried them the most. The dove, the book characters. The auras, people’s eyes. When did it all begin for you?”

Doctors from every state had asked me the question many, many times. The answer was engraved in my brain.

“During the fire fever,” I responded. “When I was ten I had a fever and I started seeing things. It felt like my head was on fire. My mom was wearing surgeon’s clothes. I got knocked out after a couple of minutes.”

“Hmm, yes, that’s what your parents told me. Have you ever met anyone else who claims they know what you are talking about?” Mrs. Lautta asked.

“Only you,” I said a little more harshly than I meant to.

“Well, Maurcie, I can assure you that I am one hundred percent genuine.” She pushed the packet of paper a little farther in front of me. “Look at this picture, and describe to me what is happening.”

I looked, and saw an image of a flower, the same flowers that were outside on the walkway. They were rocking to and fro, with little happy faces. Their tiny voices filled the air.

“Sunshine on my leaves shines off like golden bees on their way to the meadow far, far below the weeping willow. Sunshine, sunshine! Cloudy day, please pretty please go away, forever and ever may your clouds stay far, far away!”

Mrs. Lautta laughed lightly. “Is that what they were singing when you came into school? Well, I expected something different from you. Listen closer.”

I leaned in closer to the paper and the flowers seemed to recognize me. They gasped again.

“She can hear! She is near! Another one has come to learn, another one, fire fever burn! Here another one comes to stay, the imagining minds not far away!”

“What does that mean?” I asked Mrs. Lautta. “Imagining minds not far away.”

“I think you know what it means,” Mrs. Lautta said, smiling. When I didn’t respond, she carried on. “I think you know that it means there are others like you at this school. Other people who can see the things you can, people who can see Isete and Rebecca.”

“You’re like me.” I suddenly understood.

She nodded slowly and slid the other paper to me. This was my schedule. “Pot Roast will escort you around to your classes if you need help,” she said.

“Oh, no, I’ll be fine.” I said. “I looked at the map before I came in, I don’t think I could forget it if I tried.”

Mrs. Lautta laughed again. “Believe me,” she said. “I know the feeling. Have a good first day, come to my office at the end of seventh period.”

“Bye, Mrs. Lautta, Isete. And thanks.” I stood up and began toward the door. Isete mewed loudly and Rebecca flew over to me, flying in circles again above my head.