All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
My eyes aren't the average kind. One is green, the other is brown. Through my brown eye, I see the world just as you do. Normal. But through my other eye, my green eye, I can see so much more. If I blink it and focus, my power comes forth. No longer do I see the world as you do. Now, everything is covered in a greenish hue. Some might think this would make it harder to see, but in Truth, it is the opposite. When my powers activate, I see the world much more clearly and sharply than usual. Everything is shown to me as it should be, as it truly is.
People look at me funny when they see my different eyes. When I look at them with Truth (this is what I call my power) I can see that they are disgusted by my difference. They sneer and scowl behind their hands, acting as if having two different eyes makes me unworthy of their attention.
Even my parents look at me different.
They don't know that I have Truth. They don't know that I can see their uncertain love, their dislike of my oddness. With Truth, I can see that my mother wants a perfect child, and she doesn't truly love me because that is what I am not. With Truth, I can also see my father. He looks at me with a puzzled, frustrated expression. He wants me to be like normal teenagers, to go out and play sports and get good grades. He doesn't love me either, because I am not the football jock he dreamed of. They look at me as an unwanted guest, one that they cannot wait to be rid of.
Knowing they do not love me does not make me sad. I have known for so long that I never had the chance to love them in return.
With Truth, I see that they adore my little brother. He is only seven years old. He has crystal blue eyes and perfectly straight blonde hair. His name is Charlie. He cannot see Truth like me.
They buy him whatever he wants, take him all over, and set up extravagant parties for each of his birthdays. But he is not happy.
When Mother and Father dote upon him, gushing on and on about how much they love him, he simply looks at me. He knows. He knows they do not love me.
He does not love them. They love him, but he does not love them. I see this with Truth.
He wants them to love me. But he cannot speak.
That is his only imperfection. My brother does not speak. No matter how Mother and Father coax him, he says nothing.
He spoke only once, when he was four. Mother and Father were trying to ask him what he wanted for dinner by holding up a paper with pictures of different food on it. He looked straight at me.
“Ferix.” he said, pointing. That is my name. Mother and Father laughed and tried to explain that they could not eat me, but Charlie shook his head and pointed again.
“Ferix.” he said again. This time, after pointing at me, he pointed at the paper Mother and Father were holding. That was when Mother became angry. She tried to hide it, but I saw it with Truth.
“You want Farix to pick?” she asked, looking at me. Charlie nodded.
That's when she showed she was angry. She glared at me.
“How dare you! You forced Charlie to let you pick, didn't you?!” Mother accused immediately.
I tried to say that I had done nothing, but Mother was not listening. She never listened to me.
“Go to your room!” she cried angrily, picking up Charlie. “You will have no dinner tonight!”
Charlie started to cry. I left the room, seeing with Truth the disapproval in my father's face as I passed him. He thought I had forced Charlie to let me pick also. I went to my room and slept without dinner.
Charlie never spoke again.
Now, he stares as I walk by. Mother always gets nervous when he stares, always drags him away from me. Father does not like it either. He distracts Charlie whenever I come in.
He loves me. I see that, even without Truth. He loves me and wants Mother and Father to love me.
But they will never love me.
Because I am not perfect.
One day, there is a knock at the door. Mother is busy readying Charlie for Church. Father is on the phone. I am trying to comb my wild, naturally spiky hair.
“Answer the door, Ferix!” Mother calls angrily. She always calls angrily, as if I am supposed to know what she wants before she wants it. I put down my comb and go downstairs. The knocker is knocking again. I open the door. There is a bald man in a hi-tech-looking wheelchair there. A woman with white hair and silver eyes is beside him. Her hair was not white with age, however. It was the purest of white, like a new sheet of paper.
When the man sees me, he smiles.
“Are Mr. and Mrs. Forster home?” he asks. I nod and let them inside. He rolls his wheelchair with a joystick on the armrest and parks in the entryway. The woman walks in beside him. I fetch Mother and Father.
“What do you want, Ferix?” Mother asks when I come to Charlie's room. Charlie is dressed in the suit that I know he hates. Mother is fixing the tie that he loosens when she isn't looking, because he feels like he can't breath.
“There is a man in a wheelchair and a woman with silver eyes in the entryway. They wish to speak with you.” I say. “And Father as well.”
Mother scowls and stands. She leaves the room and calls for Father. Charlie looks at me, the way he always does. He looks worried. I do not know why. I go to see what the man is talking to Mother and Father about. Their voices carry to me before I reach them.
“...Professor Charles Francais Xavier. I am here in regards to your son, Ferix.”
That is the man. I stop just outside the entryway, listening. I do not know how the man knows my name.
“What do you want with Ferix?”
That is Mother. She sounds defensive. She does not love me, but she does not let others make fun of her for having me.
“I have reason to believe that your son is a gifted child.” says the man. I feel my body freeze. Does he know I can see Truth?
“Gifted? Our Ferix?” Father says, voice disbelieving. “I think you are mistaken.”
“He may be a bit odd, but-”
Mother is speaking, but the man cuts her off. No one ever cuts Mother off, but the man does not know this.
“I do not believe I am mistaken. With your permission, I would like to ask the boy a few questions.” he says. I can feel the hesitation in the air as Mother and Father try to decide. They want to keep me away from the man, I can tell. They don't want to find something else wrong with me.
“Please,” a different voice says, the voice of a woman. Likely the silver-eyed woman. “We just want to speak with him.”
“Alright.” Mother sighs finally. “You may speak with him.”
“Thank you.” says the man. “You can come out now, Ferix.”
My heart races. How did he know I was there? How could he?
Feeling nervous now, I step out of my hiding place outside the entry. Mother and Father look surprised. Truth shows me that they did not know I was there. The man does not look surprised. Neither does the woman. I see with Truth that she did not know I was there at first.
The man gestures to the left, where the family room sits, and wheels toward the couch. I assume he wishes me to sit. I sit, and he stops his wheelchair in front of me. The woman stands beside him.
“So, Ferix. Tell me a little about yourself.”
I blink, looking at him with Truth. I see that he is kind and sincere. He truly wants to know about me, just as he has asked. I look at the woman, too. She also wants to know about me. My heart, strangely, warms a little.
“What should I tell?” I ask.
“Anything.” he says. “Whatever you feel is important.”
I think for a moment.
“My name is Ferix Herald Forster. I am fifteen years old.” I hesitate. Should I tell these strangers about Truth? But as I look at them, see his smiling, encouraging face, her eagerness to like me, I feel like I cannot keep it from them. They are so different from Mother and Father. So I say it.
“I can see Truth.”
The man's eyebrows go up.
“You see truth? What do you mean by that?” he asks.
“I see Truth. Things are what they really are, not what they appear to be.” I explain.
Mother and Father are watching with wide eyes. Truth shows me that they are scared.
“I see. And how do you see truth?”
I point to my eyes.
“My brown eye sees like you. My green eye, when I focus on it and blink, sees truth.”
The man puts a hand to his chin.
“Fascinating. And what does truth look like to you?”
I look around, searching for the right words.
“When I see with Truth, the world becomes green. My vision is sharper, clearer. I see what is real.” I say.
The man smiles at me. I feel a strange sensation stir inside me. I have not felt this before.
“What a unique ability...” he says in awe. Now I know the feeling. I am proud. Proud of my ability to see Truth. And happy. Happy that this man is here, listening to me.
“He really is...gifted...?” Mother asks with a shake in her voice. I look at her, and I see that Father is holding her. She is shaking. He looks angry.
“It would seem so.” says the man.
"What now, then? Will you be taking him with you?" Father asks. He sounds hopeful. Truth shows me that he wants me to leave. I feel a sharp pain in my heart. Why?
“With your permission, yes. I would like to take him with me back to the institute I run, to help him develop his abilities and allow him to interact with other gifted children.” says the man.
Others like me? I did not know there were others like me.
Another new feeling. I think this is excitement.
“There is no need for you to pay room and board.” says the woman. “We would pay for them ourselves.”
“Then you have our permission! Just get him away!” Mother shrieks. She is glaring at me with hatred and disgust.
Another sharp pain. But I do not love her. Don't I?
The man nods sadly, looking at me sidelong. The woman's face falls into sadness.
“Thank you.” the man says.“You may visit him whenever you wish. The institute's doors will always be open to you.”
Institute? More excitement. I have never seen an institute.
The professor is leaving, the woman close behind. I start to follow them out the door, when Charlie walks in. He is staring at me, eyes big. Truth shows me that he knows. He knows I am leaving. And that I won't be coming back.
Tears are rolling down his cheeks. He is crying. The professor pauses on our doorstep, looking back at Charlie. The sadness on his face deepens. The woman looks back, too. They can see that Charlie loves me.
Charlie runs forward. He hugs my legs and starts to sob.
“No go, Ferix!” he cries. “No go!”
Mother and Father gape. I flinch. Charlie does not want me to leave.
Tears roll down my cheeks.
Why am I crying?
My heart burns warmly, sadly.
I realize suddenly that I love Charlie. I love him with all my heart. Crying even harder, I kneel and hug Charlie back.
“No go...” Charlie whimpers into my shoulder. “No go....”
“Don't worry, Charlie.” I say. “I'll see you again.”
Charlie shakes his head without lifting it.
“No go....” he says again. I reluctantly push him back and force a smile. I have never smiled before.
“I love you, Charlie. Never forget that.” I say. Charlie still looks sad. Tears are still falling. But now, he steps back. He is letting me go. I stand and step back also. I am letting myself go.
“Love too, Ferix.” he says. I smile. A real smile.
When I step out the door, Charlie closes it behind me.
The professor is watching me. He smiles sadly.
“Come along, Ferix.” he says. “Let's make your little brother proud.”
It has been ten years.
Mother and Father did not visit me.
The professor has helped me find that I can see Truth without focusing too hard, or even blinking. I simply need to want to see it and I do. He also helped me discover I could see more. If someone lies, I not only see that they lie, I also see what the truth is. For example, if one of the other students goes out without permission, then claims they never did, I see that they are lying AND what they did instead.
He also told me about mutants, and something called the “X” gene. I did not fully understand, but I now understand why there are others like me.
Some of the other kids made fun of my power. They said seeing Truth was useless, unneeded. They are no longer here. They left the institute soon after I arrived. They cause trouble for the non-mutants.
I did not leave unless accompanied by the professor or Logan. Logan teaches us in a different way. He teaches us how to apply our powers to combat. How to use them in self-defense. I like Logan. He always acted like he didn't like me, but Truth shows that he admires my determination.
Some of the others don't like Logan. They say he's too hard on us. That he needs to lighten up. I don't think this. I think he is just right. After all, real life does not hold back.
I have made friends, too. Like Kitty. She is nice. She can fade through solid objects. And Kurt. He can teleport. I saw with Truth that he does not look like normal people. He has blue fur, and a long tail. He hides this with a special watch the professor gave him. He no longer hides around me, though. He knows that I know and that I don't care.
I also like Scott. His powers are in his eyes, like me. He can shoot lasers from them. But he can't make them stop. He wears special glasses that stop them for him. Otherwise, he must keep his eyes closed.
Now, I live on my own. The professor checks up on me every once in a while. I live in an apartment near the institute. Logan visits with him, sometimes.
I have a job as a lawyer. Truth has made me very successful at this.
I could live in a house if I wanted. But I don't. The expense is no issue. I just feel it would be more lonely, living in a big building by myself. So I am happy as I am.
Today, as I come back from work and unlock the door, I wonder about Charlie. I wonder about Charlie a lot. I have not seen him, either. He must be seventeen by now. I wonder what he looks like, how tall he is. Does he still not love Mother and Father? Does he miss me? Does he still love me?
The key slips in my hand. I feel tears on my face. Frustrated, I wipe them away and force the key into the lock. Why must thoughts of Charlie always hurt me?
I open the door and stop in surprise. The professor is there, directly in front of the door. He smiles at me, just the way he did on the day we first met.
“Professor!” I exclaim happily, smiling in return.
“Hello, Ferix. Sorry to stop in so suddenly.” he replies.
“No, don't worry about it.” I say.
Remembering my tears, I wipe my eyes one more time, just to be sure. The professor's face softens sadly.
“Thinking of Charlie again?” he asks. I nod. The professor knows how much I think of Charlie. We used to talk about it together. He nods in return, putting a hand to his chin.
“How long has it been now? Ten years?” he asks.
“Yes.” I say, putting my briefcase on the couch in the open living room, which is on my right. “It doesn't feel so long.”
I put my coat on a hanger by the door. The professor nods agreement.
“Yes, it certainly doesn't. It seems like just yesterday that I came to see you and your family.” he says.
I feel a pain in my heart. When with the professor, I realized that I had loved Mother and Father. They had not loved me, but I had loved them anyway. Now mention of them hurt me, just like Charlie. The professor's face softened again. A comfortable silence passed between us.
“You're worried about him, aren't you?” the professor asks. I know he means Charlie. I sigh.
“He was not happy with them. I saw that with Truth.” I reply. The professor nods.
“It's no wonder, after he witnessed the treatment your parents gave you.”
“I hope he's happy now.” I say, running a hand through my hair. It is still naturally spiky. I don't mind so much anymore. The professor gives me an odd smile.
“Why don't you ask him?” he asks. As he does, his hand gestures toward the doorway to my right, which leads to the kitchen. When I look, I freeze, unable to breath, unable to think. My heart has stopped and my mouth drops open. Out of my kitchen has stepped a tall young man, almost as tall as me. He has broad shoulders and naturally-toned muscles. He wears an orange t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. A black backpack is slung over one of his shoulders. He has perfectly straight blonde hair that falls handsomely around his face. But what really strikes me are his hauntingly familiar crystal-blue eyes.
I can't move. I can't speak. The professor is looking between us, smiling. The young man smiles as well. Tears are in his eyes. I realize they are in mine, also.
“No go, Ferix. No go.” he says quietly, his voice cracking a little. The tone is so much deeper, but I know. I know it is him. I feel the tears in my eyes spilling over. My legs feel weak, so I lean on the couch with one arm.
“Ch- … Charlie?” I managed to croak in disbelief. He nods.
My heart beats again. It fills with love, happiness...so much that it overflows. I can't believe this is not a dream.
“Charlie....” I say, unable to think of anything else. “Charlie!”
Finally, I can move again. I rush to Charlie and hug him tight. He drops his backpack and hugs me back.
“I thought I would never see you again...” I say. We separate, smiling, and I turn on the professor.
“Did I do it?” the professor says, before I can. I smile more broadly. It always made me want to laugh when the professor said something for me.
“Actually, your brother did most of it.” he continues, gesturing at Charlie. “He came to the institute today, looking for you.”
Charlie smiles and ruffles his hair with one hand. I looked at him in disbelief.
“You were looking for me?” I ask. “Why?”
“That is what I'd like to know.” says the professor. “He would not answer any of my questions, and I respected his privacy by not prying into his mind.”
I shake my head wonderingly.
“How did you even find the institute?” I ask. Charlie opens his mouth, but the professor speaks first.
“I left the address with your parents, remember? Apparently, Charlie stole it and hid it in his room when he heard your parents saying they would throw it out. Although you really should have called first.” The professor turned to Charlie, looking amused. “Logan was about ready to remove you from the property for trespassing.”
Charlie chuckles. I chuckle, too.
I turn to Charlie, eager now.
“So, why were you looking for me?” I ask.
Charlie rubs the back of his neck.
“I got tired of it. Living with Mom and Dad, I mean.” he says.
I look concerned.
“You know what they're like. Only three days after you left, they had your room completely cleared out. Two more days, and they'd re-painted it and turned it into a guest room.”
I wince. Charlie runs a hand through his hair.
“After you were gone, they got worse with the “perfect child” thing. They enrolled me in the best school they could afford and forced me to study hard enough that all my grades would be straight A+s. Dad made me take football, and Mom insisted on my room always being clean. I was the top on our team, and my grades never faltered. But I HATED it. I never got a chance to do what I wanted! I couldn't hang out with friends unless it was to study. All my free time was occupied by football. There was nothing left for me!”
Charlie is looking pained.
“Today, I finally worked up the guts to do it. I packed my bag, told Mom and Dad I was going to a study group, and ran.”
He looks at me, his eyes showing how much he is hurting. I can't help smiling.
“So that's why you came to find me?” I ask. Charlie half-smiles, eyes still hurting.
“Well, it's not like I didn't miss you, too.” he replies. I smile more broadly.
“I missed you, too.” I say. Now Charlie smiles and the hurt in his eyes is gone. The professor is watching as happily.
“So...does this mean I can stay a while?” Charlie asks. I laugh.