Story A Day 14: "Cinderella Story / Young Neurologist"

Katie was nine years old and hiding out in the school library when she found a stack of old science magazines and started reading about neurology. It was the brightly colored pictures, the computer models of brain cells, that caught her attention. A few hours later, the librarian found her in a corner with a few of the more interesting issues and a dictionary flipped upside-down on the floor so she wouldn’t lose her page.

“Your mom’s here, sweetie,” said Miss Zelva with a touch of regret in her voice. “Time for us to close. You can come back tomorrow.”

She let the little girl take two of the magazines home, even though it was against library policy to lend reference materials. Katie was trustworthy, and she’d have them back the next day.

Going home after school never got any easier. The whole way, in the car, her mom ranted and raved about how selfish Katie was for making her mother pick her up from school all the time, for not just dropping the act and behaving like a normal child, how unfair her life was, the usual topics. Katie sat in the back seat clutching her backpack, rocking gently forward and back and staring fixedly out the window, hoping that if she didn’t respond, maybe it would stop. It never worked, of course, but it was better than the alternative. Katie hated fighting even more than she hated yelling.

When they opened the front door, the music was so loud she thought it might blast her into the sky. She could feel it hammer on her eardrums, every vibration distinct and painful. Pete, her mom’s current boyfriend, liked classic rock. He always said, “if it’s too loud, you’re too old,” which Katie never understood because she was the youngest and she hated the noise, and he was the oldest and he loved it. Probably because he was deaf from listening to it for too long. She kept these thoughts to herself. Being yelled at by her mom without ever saying a word was more than enough.

She managed to stash the magazines in her room before dinner, and after she ate she crawled into the closet with a flashlight and her latest reading material. The closet was one of her favorite places. With the bedroom door and the closet door both shut, she could barely hear the adults downstairs. She wrapped herself in blankets and settled in with an article on logic. Secure and comfortable in her nest, she caught herself nodding off more than once.

Out of nowhere, there was a voice. There was something strange about it. It wasn’t too loud like how everyone else talked. It was just the right volume. And the words were more distinct than she’d ever heard. They stood out in her mind just as clearly as if she were reading them off a page. It was a voice made just for her, and it was calling her name oh-so-gently.

Katie.

The voice was smiling. Friendly.

Don’t be afraid, Katie.

As though she would be afraid of a voice like this. It was the kindest voice she had ever heard.

It’s going to be okay. I’m here to help you.

There was a light, she realized, coming from somewhere. It was glowing blue, but she couldn’t find the source. That made her more uncomfortable than anything. She could always figure out things like that. This light had no source. It wasn’t coming from anywhere. It was equally bright in the whole closet. That made it impossible. Probably a dream.

I am your guardian, Katie. It is my job to protect you. You are not happy in this house, with this family. I have watched you suffer for long enough.

She was curious, now, about where this was going. A magic dream voice that had been watching her whole life and wanted to protect her. Everyone always watched her, always staring. Most people thought she was retarded or sick. Even the most well-intentioned people treated her like an invalid, or a baby, who needed to be taken care of. It was amazing how people would stare when they didn’t think you were smart enough to know they were staring. Whatever this voice was, it was nothing new to her.

I can take you away from this awful place. I can heal you and make you whole.

Katie wormed her way out of her nest of blankets and cushions and sat up. Talking was always difficult, but in a dream, when she only had to think the words and know she was understood, there was no problem.

What makes you think I need to be healed?

Hesitation. This magic voice clearly hadn’t been expecting that. Typical.

I can give you a better life.

Katie rolled her eyes.

What makes you think I can’t do that myself?

She crawled out of the closet, magazines in hand. As she turned to close the door, she saw the blue light fade away.

The house was dark and quiet now. She crawled into her bed, sliding her reading material under her pillow. She closed her eyes and pictured the models and diagrams she had spent the evening learning about.

I’m going to be a neurologist.