A Child’s Stillness
978-1-4675-0697-7
-by-
Mr. Andrew “TheAuthor” Williams
Copyright © A Child’s Stillness. All Rights Reserved.
Dedicated To:
My best childhood friends who went to Brockland (or Brookwood) Elementary School in the years of 1971 and 1972:
Steve Tucker
Bobbie (Last Name Unknown)
Angela (Last Name Unknown)
Beverly Robinson (Not Sure Of Last Name)
***
My best friend who went to Junction City “Blue Jays” Senior High School and who always had my back like a True Friend:
Steven Johnson
And his brothers who accepted me and made me feel like one of their brothers.
***
My other High School friends, not mentioned in this novel, who encouraged me and helped me through my school years. Though I kept most of my life a secret from them they stuck by me like True Friends:
Debbie Suit
Rhonda Williams
Leticia Saxon
CHAPTER ONE
Head bent as she focuses on her work, Ms. Christine Bell pays little attention to the twenty five students sitting quietly before her. The early morning sunlight peaks through the side windows; the sun’s rays inked in bright gold settle softly on the students as they guide their pencils in a slow dance across their white drawing sheets.
Ms. Bell has given them twenty minutes to draw anything they want. Excited about their
assignments, their imaginations take shape in black and white to produce phantoms of their making as they painstakingly work on their portrayals, drawing from the world that lay hidden in their minds. Deep in thought and focus on their depictions, they are momentarily lifted from the world, raw and real, around them. All, except one. His pencil in its holder, the boy quietly and casually scans the other students, wondering why they haven’t finished their drawings.
Seconds later the teacher looks up. She notices that the child sitting quietly in the back
of the room is already done. She’s not surprised. The teacher is used to Androo finishing his work first. She glances at the old clock that has watched over thousands of students from its permanent perch on the back wall. There is still ten minutes remaining before the class ends. That should be enough time to look over their work and appoint them grades for their creativity.
She requests the class to turn in their papers.
Minutes pass by while she immerses herself in the children’s drawings, enjoying their
simple creativity and youthful compositions. She likes giving out these impromptu
assignments and is always excited to see the varied ways her children express
themselves. She quickly flips through their work but then stops suddenly to study one of
the drawings. Her gaze trails the telling details of each line of the picture so clean and
candid in its originality and the expression on her pinkish face changes from
amusement to amazement.
The children’s cloak and dagger chatter floats around her as the teacher studies the
drawing and attempts to comprehend what the little child has created. The mystical
creature seems alive, cognizant and compelling, and she wonders at the depth of such
a young mind to produce such an ethereal and seemingly substantive life form. She
glances at the top of the sheet for the name of this gifted artist.
-6-
“Androo,” she says, realizing she has said his name out loud when she hears a voice
respond from the back of the room.
“Yes ma’am.”
The other children look at Androo, wondering why their teacher singles him out and
convinced he is in trouble.
“I would like to see you after class,” the teacher says.
“Yes ma’am,” Androo says.
Two minutes later the raucous, round sound of the school bell chimes loudly and the
children rush towards the door and towards freedom.
With his books in his hand, Androo approaches the teacher’s desk as she continues to
gaze at his drawing.
Patiently, he waits for her as he stands next to the desk, observing how she keeps her
books, papers and pens neatly stacked on the old desk’s brown and battered surface.
Androo likes that his teacher keeps her things in proper order, even her personal
appearance. Her brown hair is cut straight and sharp to sit on her shoulders as small
strands stray around her cheeks.
Her eyes moisten with emotions as she looks up at Androo and sighs. The relaxing
movement gives her a chance to collect her thoughts as she determines how to
approach this often distant child.
“Androo, did you draw this?” she asks, holding up the paper.
“Yes ma’am.”
She stares at the child who is calmly looking back at her, his face inscrutable. Androo is
curious why his drawing has evoked such open emotions in his normally demure
teacher.
“Androo, this is very good,” Ms. Bell says, hoping her words would elicit some emotions.
When they don’t she presses on. “Do you understand how special this is?”
His expression unchanged, Androo continues to look at the teacher. “Is this drawing not
the same as the other children’s?” he wonders.
-7-
As she studies him Ms. Bell, who is a graduate art student, realizes Androo doesn’t
understand how striking and special his drawing is, especially for such a young child.
The first-grade teacher realizes how unique and gifted this little child is and searches for
the right words to express the impact of his drawing. She takes in his whole appearance
from his buttoned-down shirt to his neatly pressed black slacks. Everything about him
seems structured and composed and she wonders what is on the childʼs mind. The child
is good at controlling his emotions.
“Androo, you are very special,” she says, slightly more composed. “Do you know that?”
Still silent, Androo continues to look at her.
“Who is this drawing of?” Ms. Bell asks. The teacher is curious about the mystical creature but she also hopes her question will draw him out from behind his carefully-constructed shell.
“Heʼs my best friend,” Androo says, looking warmly at the drawing.
Seconds slip by as she waits to see if he will explain further. But once again the child is
silent and she thinks on his words, unsure how to respond but curious about this being
in the drawing that he calls his friend. Still, she decides not to pry. Perhaps, she can find
out more at another time.
“Do you mind if I show this drawing to the principal and the other teachers?”
“No ma’am.”
“Androo, this is really good. This drawing is better than any other drawing I have ever
seen. Iʼm going to school to be an artist and you draw better than I do. Do you
understand?”
Without breaking his composure, he allows himself to empathically feel her emotions
and a slight smile appears on his dark brown face.
Encouraged by his smile the teacher smiles back, delighted that she is able to elicit
some emotion from the child and accepting it as a sign that he understands how
impressed she is with his drawing.
“Do you mind if I keep your drawing for myself to show it to my teacher?”
“I donʼt mind,” he says, happy to give it to her as a gift.
-8-
Androo doesn’t realize it, but his teacherʼs decision to show his picture to the principal
and other staff members would set off a series of events that would dramatically
transform his elementary school years, and drastically impact the rest of his young life.
-9-
CHAPTER TWO
Despite Androo’s calm composure his life is less than idyllic and several hours later he listens to the screams, curses and cruelty that have become a part of his daily existence.
Androo is not sure when it began, this private war that rages almost daily between his mom and dad or why. But routinely it has been about him.
“Why does he have to be so different?” his dad shouts. “Why can’t he be like the other kids? It’s not natural for him to be so smart.”
“Why you hate him so much?” his mom yells, equally loud. “He is your son. It’s not right for a father to hate his own flesh and blood.”
Androo stands in the hall, his emotions and feelings building. But an unseen presence emerges as a ball of energy, overwhelming him and keeping him under control. His body warm with internal strength, he wants to intervene to protect his mom from abuse.
The house doesn’t feel like a home to Androo as physical and verbal abuse, like negative forces, have possessed the dwelling. Now Androo remains still, watching as a dark spirit captures the soul of his dad. He listens to his parents’ disturbing words.
“You are his dad. You should be very proud that Androo is very smart and talented,” she says, tears in her eyes. “It don’t make no sense that you hate your own son.”
His dad turns to look at him with such rage, moving towards him like a man possessed.
Then his mom appears in front of his dad, attempting to shield her son from her husband's menacing intent. But without stopping his dad pushes her small frame aside and walks towards Androo.
His big brown hands grip Androo’s neck, squeezing tighter and tighter, as he angrily shouts, “I hate you. I hate you. I wish you were dead. And I wish you were never born.”
The darkness of his soul reflects on his face as it contorts into something unnatural. His grip tightens as he tries to take the life of his innocent young son. But his anger is soon mixed with bewilderment as he struggles to grip even harder.
-10-
Awed, he realizes his strong grip has no affect on his son’s small, fragile neck. In frustration, he releases Androo. He balls his hands into tight fists, punching him as he yells,
“I hate you. I hate you.” His voice grows louder, reaching a high pitch. “I will make you serve my god. I hate you. I hate you. I wish you were never born.”
Androo’s dad then tosses and kicks him around. Again, he wraps his large heavy hands around Androo’s small fragile neck, trying to choke the living breath out of him. He couldn’t accept his son being peculiar; he couldn’t accept him being so different from all the other children. His son would never be like him, to follow in his footsteps, to emulate him as is the time-honored tradition between dads and their sons. He hates that Androo believes in Elohim who is truly different from his demonic god.
And Androo couldn’t understand why his dad wanted him to believe in the god of this world instead of believing within YAH who dwells within him. But it doesn’t matter how much his dad beats on him, Androo refuses to stop believing, even if he kills him.
Androo feels the impact of his dad’s blows.
But to his amazement, he isn’t hurt as the warm sensation within him grows hotter and hotter. The energy is like a powerful life source, protecting his small, weak body.
Then all of a sudden, his dad moves away from him as fear besieges his soul. He watches as a golden bright light shines around Androo. Like a guardian angel, the light has appeared to protect him.
A soft Voice whispers in his ear, “Androo, my little one, go into your room.”
Silently, Androo obeys.
His parents are speechless as they watch him enter his bedroom and close the door behind him.
They don’t know what to make of what they had just witness. They remain in stunned silence, their minds roil with confusion.
-11-
In his room, Androo sits on his bed, his mind full of questions: why his dad hates him so much? And, why his dad wants him to serve a strange god that he doesn’t know? His little soul full of sorrow, tears pour from his eyes in a steady stream as he sobs and sniffles. He recalls all the other times his dad has cruelly and brutally beat him. Deep inside Androo’s heart, he realizes he has to make a decision. Then, he boldly says,
“I don’t care. My dad can try to kill me all he wants. I am not going to believe in his false god. And, I am not going to stop believing in Elohim.”
Suddenly, his body feels as if it has no physical weight as his soul is taken up into another place. He is aware that his mother wants to check on him, to see if he is alright.
In a vision, he sees his mother about to reach for the door knob, then she pauses with her hand about an inch away.
“I’m sure my son is okay,” she says.
An unseen force warns her not to touch the door, giving her the intuitive impression that her son is alright. She walks away from the door, instinctively knowing he is protected by YAH.
The Voice warns Androo that if his mother had touched the door, she would have dropped dead.
In a deep trance, Androo lies there as many twinkling lights appear with three greater lights, all forming into angelic beings. Throughout the night two of the lesser lights, his two best friends, stood on each side of the greatest light. They had all appeared to comfort and protect Androo.
Afterwards, the greatest light speaks. His Voice is calm and dreadful like the many sounds of fierce thunder and the power of running water. He introduces Himself.
“I Am The Great I Am The Almighty Living True YAH. There is no other El besides Me. I shall lead you to a Book, which is a translation from the original writings of My Holy Word. All that I teach you shall be proven by that Book.
Then Elohim adds, “You are not American, you are not African and you are not African American. You are a Hebrew from The Tribe of Ephraim, which is one of The Twelve Tribes of Israel.”
-12-
After Yah spoke, The Great I Am ascends into the Heavens, leaving the two Archangels to teach their young friend.
Androo’s two best friends teach him about his talents and gifts. He listens carefully to these two beings that are not of this world, but from the distant Heavens of the unfallen world where thereʼs no sorrow or pain.
They are his guardian angels, protecting and guiding him from harm and danger; teaching him how to fight with his hands and feet to be a great martial artist.
“You are placed on this earth for a purpose,” they tell him.
Androo is amazed at the level of their skills as they move with blistering speed, performing with a single thought they demonstrate their ability to do any and all things.
They take Androo to another place, a land full of darkness where the sole inhabitant seems to be a man-like creature. One of the lesser lights in the army attacks the demon with great force, demonstrating his ability to fight with his hands and feet as he destroys the creature.
“Not even demons will be able to stand before you as you have the power to destroy them,” one of the greater angels says. “Androo, my little one, do not be afraid.”
Androo watches the light move back in line. That angel is of the lowest rank as there are others more powerful, much mightier within this military force.
Playing the battle back in his mind, Androo memorizes how to manifest great martial skills with his hands and feet, to move fluid as water and soft as the gentle wind.
The only way Androo could comprehend the battle between the two is to picture them moving in slow motion as they perform with great speed, power and accuracy.
Based on earthly time, the fight lasted a minute, but spiritually the battle lasted a second.
This is the beginning of how Androo actually learns the martial arts at the age of five.
Each night his angelic friends taught him the true essence of his abilities, to be very talented and extremely gifted.
-13-
Days later, Androo sits in front of the television playing with toy blocks painted on each side with letters and numbers.
Then a commercial appears on the screen. Several young black men dressed in kung fu uniforms are yelling and jumping as they kick in the air. They are demonstrating their martial art abilities and inviting individuals to join their school.
Watching the television screen, Androo is impressed to see there are others who have the same abilities as he, giving him the impression that he isn’t the only one and he’s not alone. Amused, he watches the men. He observes their body movements and their skill levels; he notices their limitations and their weaknesses. They are not as good as his Heavenly friends.
But Androo isn’t bothered by their weaknesses and limitations. He wants to be among them; he wants to be among people like himself.
His mom and his aunt are in the kitchen preparing dinner when they hear him shouting,
“Mommy, mommy, come here.”
The women rush to the living room, wondering why the normally quiet and still child is suddenly shouting.
“Androo, what’s wrong?”
He points at the television as he looks up at his mom.
“I want to do that,” he says.
His aunt giggles.
“Oh, he wants to take karate lessons to learn how to defend himself,” she says.
Androo looks at her, thinking, “Don’t she understands I already know how to fight?
Don’t she know I just want to be around others like myself?”
-14-
Relieved that her son is okay, his mom is surprised at Androo’s reaction over the commercial. Still, she is happy her reserved child has taken such a keen interest in something.
“As soon as your dad gets home, I will talk to him about you taking karate lessons so you can know how to defend yourself.”
“I already know how to defend myself,” Androo says, “I want to do that.”
The two women return to the kitchen, laughing and talking about Androo wanting to learn some form of martial art.
“It’s good that he wants to know how to protect himself so other kids won’t bully him,” his aunt says.
Sitting in the middle of the living room, Androo watches the two women while thinking,
“Why don’t they understand that I already know how to defend myself? How is it that my mom don’t know that angels come into my room to teach me how to fight? She is my mom, she is supposed to know.”
Deep in his thoughts, Androo is concerned that his mom doesn’t understand him and knows him. “A mother is supposed to know about her son and understand all he can do.
How is it she doesn’t know? She is my mother, sheʼs supposed to know.”
For the first time, Androo feels lonely and distant from his mom. He empathetically feels her emotions. They may be related, but they are not the same. His ability to sense other people’s feelings open up his understanding to realize heʼs different from everyone else in his family. These thoughts weigh heavily on his mind, causing him to draw further away emotionally. Every time he comes into contact with other individuals he feels all alone, having no one to relate to and sorrow floods his tender heart.
The next day his dad, who is a sergeant, takes Androo on the army base where he works and introduces him to some of the other soldiers. But Androo finds it strange that each time his dad introduces him to one of his superiors, he would smile and proudly say, “This is my son,” giving the false impression that he is happy his son is there while deep in his heart, he really doesn’t want him around.
-15-
His dad takes him to a section of the base where they have laid out toy soldiers, tanks and other military objects on a large board in preparation for battle.
Androo watches as they practice moving the soldiers in hot spots to defeat their enemies. Androo looks up at one of the superiors.
“The set up is all wrong, your men will lose,” Androo says.
The middle-age white man looks down at Androo, smiling.
“You are young my son,” the man says. “These are not toys to play games with.”
“Yes, I know,” Androo says. “But you have your men set up wrong. They will lose if this was a real battle.”
The man looks at the board, then at Androo’s dad and the other soldiers.
“He is very smart,” his dad says. “Sometimes he is too smart for his own good.”
The man looks at Androo.
“Where do you think these men should go?”
Androo scans the board, examining both sides. He explains how the soldiers should be set up to defeat their enemies. His dad and the other superiors are amazed at Androo’s knowledge of military tactics. Minutes pass as they all carefully examine the board, looking for weaknesses and loopholes in the child’s strategy. Then, the middle-age white man says,
“How did you know what to do so my men wouldn’t be captured or killed?”
“I just know,” Androo answers.
“When you grow up, you will make an excellent soldier,” the man says.
He looks at Androo’s dad.
-16-
“Your son has an eye for combat. I am very impressed. You taught your son well,” he says giving Androo’s dad the credit.
“Yes sir,” his dad answers. “I told you he is very smart.”
As the men continue in their conversation, Androo watches and listens as his dad boasts and brags about his son’s intelligence. Androo doesn’t understand why his dad couldn’t be honest and tell them that he hates him and doesn’t want him around. Thatʼs when he realizes in public his dad will pretend to love and care for him, but in the privacy of their home his dad will show his hatred; only when they are alone will he show how he really feels about his son.
Later that evening, his dad takes him to another room to introduce him to a private.
“This is my son who I was telling you about. I want you to teach him kung fu so he can know how to fight.”
The young man puts down the box in his hand and stands at attention.
“Yes sir,” he says.
Androo and the man go into a back room and the man closes the door behind them.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you; I’m just going to teach you some techniques so you can protect yourself.”
Androo looks at the man.
“I already know how to protect myself,” he says.
The young man looks at Androo, smiling.
“Then show me what you know.”
Androo just stands there, looking at the man.
The man gets into a fighting stance.
-17-
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. We’re just going to have a light sparring match so I can see all that you know.”
Androo shakes his head.
“No. I will hurt you.”
The man laughs as he looks at Androo.
“You are nothing but a little child. I’m much bigger and stronger than you are. You cannot hurt me.”
“No. I will hurt you,” Androo says.
The man laughs.
“Ready or not I’m going to attack, do you understand? Don’t be scared.”
“No.”
As the man rushes at Androo, The Voice whispers in his ear.
“Don’t hurt him. Just jump over his head.”
Suddenly, Androo leaps into the air. The man passes him and Androo lands behind him, softly pushing him off balance.
“How did you do that?” The man says, amazed.
“If I want I can easily defeat you. But I don’t want to hurt you.”
Seconds pass as the man stands there silently, stunned.
“Your dad told me you didn’t know how to fight. He was concerned that the big kids would beat up on you.”
Androo doesn’t respond.
“Do the kids bully you in school?”
-18-
“Yes sir,” he answers.
“Do you fight them back?”
“No sir.”
“Why don’t you fight them back?
“Because I don’t want to hurt them.”
The man looks at the child, realizing Androo is compassionate and very sensitive. But he explains to Androo how in this world people can be mean and cruel and will push him around as long he lets them. He tells him to fight back and don’t be scared of hurting them.
“You have the right to protect yourself,” he says.
After the conversation, the man takes Androo back to his dad.
“Mr. Williams, your son is very good in kung fu,” he says, excited. “He is amazing. You should have seen him...”
Sitting at his desk, Androo’s dad swings around to look at the private and begins cursing at him.
“Don’t lie to me. My son doesn’t know how to fight. I gave you a direct order to teach him what you know. Now go back in that room and teach him that bullsh’t or I will get up from my desk and kick your black ass.”
Androo’s dad refuses to allow the man to explain and keeps interrupting him.
“I don’t care how much of that karate sh’t you know. I will kick your black ass if you don’t get back into that room.”
“Yes sir,” the private answers.
He and Androo return to the back room.
-19-
The next morning when Androo gets off the school bus, three big white boys step in front of Androo while the other kids run into the building.
One of the boys pushes Androo.
“Nigger, give me your lunch money.”
Androo looks into the boy’s eyes, seeing into his soul. He takes his lunch money out of his pocket and holds the quarters and dollar bills in his hand. He balls his fist and holds it out.
“If you can take the money from my hand, then you can have it,” Androo says.
The white boy grabs Androo’s fist, trying to pry his fingers open. His two friends watch, amazed as their friend struggles to get the money. They wonder how this skinny kid could be so strong. Other children start to gather around them, wanting to witness this strange event.
It was like a power came over Androo, his body warm with internal strength. The other children are stunned. They start laughing at the fat white boy as he continues to struggle to overpower Androo. Embarrass, he finally calls for his two friends to help. But the other boys are also no match for Androo. Amazingly, the three don’t have enough strength to take his money and after a few minutes pass, they finally gave up, gasping for breath.
“Gimme your money,” the fat boy says.
“No, you are not able to take it so you lost,” Androo says.
“If you don’t give me your money, I will punch you,” the boy says.
“No,” Androo answers.
The white boy punches Androo on the left side of his face. Androo just stands there as the punch has no effect.
“You’re not normal,” the white boy says, shocked.
As the children watch, Androo slowly puts the money back into his pocket, then holds up his hand in front of the boy’s face and balls it into a fist.
-20-
“How would you like it if I hit you like you hit me?”
The boy’s eyes widen in fear as he slowly backs away.
“You’re not normal; you’re not normal,” he says. “Get away from him, he’s not normal.”
Androo continues to stand there as he watches the children walk away. Deep in his thoughts, he wonders why is it that these kids have no power and why is it the big kids pick on the little kids?
When the bell rings for recess, Androo stands by the fence in the school yard so he could see all the kids. Observing their behavior, he seeks to understand why they behave the way they do. He wonders why is it they don’t have any power.
Androo scans the children’s emotions and feelings he empathetically senses they are different from him. Confused in their thoughts, weak in their strengths, he realizes they are limited to what they learn from their parents and teachers. “Don’t they know they have power? How is it they don’t know this?”
Hours later, Androo and his parents are sitting with two white men in suits in his family’s living room.
The men talk about how gifted and talented Androo is and suggest sending him to another school where he can be placed in a special class with children like himself.
Androo listens to their conversation, finding the men’s suggestion odd. “Why do they want to send him to another school when the school he attends is a block away behind his house where he could easily walk to it?”
Androo senses something is wrong. He has the impression the men aren’t telling his parents everything. His intuition warns him of impending trouble. But Androo remains calm, keeping his thoughts to himself.
The men lightly grill his dad, asking him where he works, how long he has been in the army and his rank. They think his dad may be an international spy because his son knows more than he should.
“Androo is very smart. He is very special,” his mom says, proudly.
-21-
“I don’t know how Androo know these things,” Androo’s dad says. “Sometimes he teaches me things when I try to teach him.”
The men in suit look at Androo.
“Androo, you are very smart,” one of them says. “We have not met another child as smart as you. How is it you know the things that you know?”
“I just know,” Androo answers.
They continue to look at Androo, trying to understand his response and waiting for him to say more. But Androo gets up from the chair and walks to his room. He doesn’t feel comfortable around these strange men.
-22-
CHAPTER THREE
Days later, Androo is transferred to a new school. The children are more structured, more obedient and more focus on their work. They answer, “Yes ma’am” when the teacher calls them.
They seem more intelligent, quick to answer the questions and always accurate in their answers. But they are only repeating what the teacher tells them and Androo isn’t impressed. They do not have the wisdom or the understanding to delve deeper, to go beyond what they are learning. They seem more like puppets being pulled by invisible strings.
Androo is sitting quietly at his desk when the gray-haired teacher asks him what he thinks of their discussion about life on other planets.
“No ma’am, I don’t agree,” Androo says bluntly. “The book is wrong.”
The teacher and the other children look at Androo, surprised.
“What makes you think the book is wrong, Androo?” the teacher asks.
“Beings lived on other planets throughout the universe,” Androo says.
He continues to explain in great details how before The Great Flood human beings could move back and forth among the planets with a single thought. There are water, caves and mountains on the planets, serving as evidence that life once existed there, he says.
“How do you know this? There is no proof of this,” the teacher says. “It’s just a theory.”
“I just know,” Androo says.
The teacher, who bases the truth only on what she learns in books, is offended at Androo’s response.
-23-
“No, you don’t know.”
Androo scans her soul and boldly says,
“It’s not your place to tell me what I know. You’re just a teacher.”
The wrinkled-face white woman frowns.
“Yes Androo, I am the teacher. You don’t know as much as I do.”
“No, you are wrong. I can easily prove that you are limited in what you know.”
Her pride pricked, the teacher tells the other children to close their books and orders Androo to stand.
She wants to embarrass Androo in front of the class, to show that he isn’t as smart as he thinks he is and heʼs definitely not smarter than her. She throws questions at Androo, hoping to trip and confuse him. But to her surprise, Androo answers her questions without hesitation and with no struggle. Then she listens in amazement as Androo continues in great details before asking her questions of his own. She stands there gaping as the young child exposes her weaknesses and limitations.
The other children watch in silence as the teacher and student banter back and forth. Her pride wounded, the teacher continues throwing questions at Androo, hoping to find flaws in his answers. But Androo continues as he instructs the teacher, pointing out holes in her questions and statements.
Her face suffused with anger, the teacher stares at the black child. Bitter with resentment, she struggles to accept that Androo is more gifted than any other children she has ever taught. Completely frustrated, the teacher picks up her ruler and slams it on her desk.
“Androo, go to the principal’s office.”
“Yes ma’am,” Androo says.
Androo picks up his books and walks out of the class. He is puzzled by the woman’s prejudice.
-24-
Still, this would be the tamest of Androoʼs days at the new school.
-25-
CHAPTER FOUR
As Androo attends the new school, he realizes there is little difference between it and his old school. Many of the big kids still pick on the little kids and many of the white kids still alienate the black kids. Still, thereʼs one difference. Androo who has gotten used to being picked on for being black and small for his age is now facing another kind of prejudice: being a peculiarly-gifted black child in a class of gifted white children. Now he is faced with the jealousy and hatred that comes with being touted as a rare-gifted genius — an acclaim, he never asks for and one he doesn’t want.
A few days after starting at the school, five white boys approach Androo on the school’s playground. Immediately, they begin taunting him and Androo feels the pressure building within him as a slew of racial names easily roll off their tongues. “Jungle Bunny,” “Nigger,” “Spook” they shout. Then they add his mom to their racial taunts and Androo’s heart surges with anger. He feels ready to lose control of his emotions. But instead of allowing his feelings to explode like a wild volcano, he calmly takes a deep breath and walks away. Despite his hurt and anger, Androo is reluctant to hurt them.
But they take his walking away as a sign of cowardice and taunt him even more. Soon
Androo realizes, he can no longer walk away. He struggles with his thoughts, not wanting to hurt anyone even as he remembers what his instructor told him. People are cruel and mean in this world, his instructor had said as he tells Androo that he has the right to fight back.
Then it happened. A whole week of racial abuse culminates into an explosion of anger, violence and frustration.
Sitting on the bus on his way home with his books and his lunch box on his lap, Androo listens as a big, fat white boy sitting a few seats behind him taunts him, calling him all kinds of racial names. He does all he can to control his anger and emotions. But the boy isn’t satisfied with just throwing words. Soon, wads of paper are hitting Androo in the back of his head and Androo decides he has had enough.
Blocking out all the children’s laughter and the name calling, Androo looks down at his hands as he decides how to end the attack and put a stop to the boy bothering him.
His hands form into different kung fu techniques as he ponders which one would be the
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most effective. He glances at the rearview mirror, hoping the bus driver would do or say something before he makes his decision. The white bus driver catches Androo’s eyes in the mirror and then without a word, he turns his gaze back to the road. Androo realizes he is on his own.
Finally, he decides and forms his right hand into a dragon claw.
Androo slowly stands, placing his books on the seat while gripping his lunch box in his left hand. His steps are deliberate as he turns and walks toward the bully. The children’s laughter fade into surprised silence as Androo nears the boy. Androo looks through him as if heʼs nothing; then suddenly the boy screams in pain as Androo uses his lunch box and his dragon claw hand to wail on his pale face.
The only sounds on the bus are the banging of the lunch box against the boy’s head and the slapping of Androo’s hand on the boy’s skin as he scratches and claws at his face. Soon blood mingled with tears pour down the boy’s face as he tries in vain to block the attacks and fight back.
“Get him off me. Get him off me,” he screams, unable to control his tears.
The children watch in horror, not daring to utter a word or make any move to help the boy. They withdraw in their seats, fearing Androo might unleash his fury on them.
The bus driver pulls over to the side and stops. But by then the damage is already done.
The boy’s pale face has turned into a bruised and bloody mess.
Androo returns to his seat.
The gray-haired bus driver tells Androo to move to the front of the bus and exchange seat with another child.
Instead of continuing on his route to drop the children off at their stops, the driver returns to the school bus compound after reporting the incident over the radio.
Later, Androo is sitting alone in a big room as he listens to his parents’ voices on the other side of the door.
“Where is my son?” Androo’s mom demands as his dad tries to calm her down.
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Androo listens as the principal responds to his mom, doing little to conceal his prejudice.
“Your son is nothing but a trouble maker. He started a fight on the bus. He needs to be locked up.”
Androo hears a slight scuffle as his dad forcefully holds back his mother before she could jump on the white man. She had to settle on using her words, releasing a stinging string of profanities.
His heart beating with fear, the man realizes the only one standing between him and a physical assault is the woman’s husband. The woman and her son seem to share the same temperament.
Then they all become silent when they realize Androo is standing inside the doorway of a back room.
Concerned, Androo looks at his mom.
“Mom, are you alright?”
Androo’s mom looks at her son, her gaze roving up and down his small frame to make sure he is alright.
Then Androo turns to stare at the white man, telepathically reaching into his soul and sending a clear warning: “If you touch my mom, I will hurt you.”
The power of Androo’s thoughts cause a slight pain to the white man’s head, leaving him faint as he grabs for a chair to sit.
Seeing the man’s reaction, Androo realizes that not only can he fight with his hands and feet, but he can also fight with his mind. With a single thought, he can cause great harm to anyone who provokes him. He now understands the extent of the power that the martial arts wield. That power is not limited to physical fighting; it is also a psychic combat system that can manifest great internal force.
The man regains his composure after Androo releases his mental grip. The man’s face is pale as he looks at Androo, thinking, “This child is not normal.”
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Androo’s parents look at the man, puzzled by his ashen face as he sits numbly on his chair.
“Your son almost killed that boy,” the man mumbles.
Once again, Androo’s dad has to hold back his mom.
“He should have killed him,” she yells. “He had no business messing with my son.”
The man clears his throat as he nervously stares back at Androo’s angry mother.
Realizing he is in a volatile situation and unsure of how strong a grip Androo’s dad has on his angry wife, he gets up and moves behind his desk.
It is time to end the meeting.
“A boy was seriously hurt in this incident and had to be hospitalized,” the man says. “It would be in everyone’s best interest if Androo does not return to school for a few days.”
Before Androo’s mom could say anything, his dad quickly agrees while his mom frowns.
The men agree on a three-day suspension.
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CHAPTER FIVE
The elementary school's laboratory is a medium-sized room with bright lights, brown wooden tables and concrete walls covered with white charts.
In the middle of the tables are clear cylinder jars containing brown, green and clear liquids. Next to them are petri dishes and test tubes that are neatly stacked in their racks.
But the three doctors dressed in white coats aren’t there to mix compounds, test hypothesis or teach class.
The two white men and white woman stare in wonder at the small, thin child who sits silently before them.
For days they have been testing him, following the format they have used on every child like him. Normally, they have been able to gauge a child’s limitation. But this child is making them rethink their own format.
For days they took turns giving him assignments, asking him questions all with the intention of gauging his IQ.
And to every question, every assignment the five-year-old easily offers the answers and provides the solutions.
Nothing seems beyond the grasp of his young mind as the child deftly moves from one subject to another, showing his aptitude for Mathematics, English, Science and the Arts.
After the tests, they would disappear for a few minutes to talk about his performance.
Then, Androo could feel his gift of clairaudience strengthening as he listens to their conversation while they slowly move down the hall. His psychic hearing sharpens as he distinguishes between their voices.
One day, he listens as the head doctor’s slightly deep voice leads off the conversation.
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“I’ve never met a child like Androo. His intelligence quotient is way above normal,” the doctor says.
“He’s answering questions even college students would find difficult. I’m not sure we have a chart to test just exactly how smart he is.”
“So what do we do with this information? They said they want our findings as soon as possible.”
Minutes later, the doctors return to the room.
“I know you all think I’m not like the other children,” Androo says.
They look at each other, unsure what to make of Androo’s statement. Then, the lead doctor breaks the uneasy silence.
“What makes you think that, Androo?”
“I’ve heard you when you were down the hall talking about me. I heard everything you said.”
A few more seconds pass before the doctor speaks again.
“Androo, how could you hear us speaking?”
“I heard you in my mind,” Androo says.
“You mean you can read our thoughts?” the second male doctor says.
“I know you think I’m different from the other children, and that’s why I’m here so you can test me. But in your mind you have no chart to grade my intellect.”
“Androo, do you know what telepathic is?” the female doctor asks.
Androo silently looks at her.
“Androo, if it’s true that you can read our minds. Then, can you tell me what I’m thinking?”
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“You want to put me with a group of people who have special powers.”
The female doctor’s mouth drops open as she turns and looks at the other doctors, “He’s right.”
For days they continue to test Androo, always bringing him to the same room. Still, the more they test his mental capability the more they are baffled. His psychic ability is more advanced than all the other individuals they have studied.
Then one day, the doctors decide to try something new. They had three young adults, two men and a woman, sit in the next room behind a closed white door.
Androo sits quietly at the table in the middle of the room, listening and watching the doctors closely and pretending he doesn’t know what’s going on.
Then the doctors hear screaming and then a loud thud. They dash to the next room.
The men are on the floor, holding their heads and screaming in pain.
The young woman rushes out of the room shouting and cupping her head.
“Make him stop, make him stop... Can’t take it anymore.”
She passes out, joining the two men lying motionless on the floor; their noses bloody and their breaths faint.
Androo, who had wondered to the hallway, silently watches as the doctors revive the three and hands them tissues to wipe the blood from their noses. Conscious and fearful, the three now stare at Androo.
Then the young woman speaks, her voice trembling with fear as she continues to cup her head.
“He’s not like us. He’s too powerful.”
“What happened?” the head doctor asks.
“We tried to read his mind but we couldn’t. So, we pushed harder. Then, all of sudden a bright light appear like an iron wall.”
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Her pale face wet with tears, the young woman looks at the quiet child.
“We’re sorry... We didnʼt mean to try to hurt you.”
For a moment, Androo stands there in the hall looking at her, and the other two.
“Why you tried to hurt me?”
“I was trying to show that we were more powerful.”
“Androo, what did you do to my subjects?” the female doctor asks.
“I stop them from entering my mind.”
For a while everyone remain silent. They all look at Androo, not sure what to make of this little child with such phenomenal paranormal abilities.
“I’m not like them either?” Androo asks.
Then, without waiting for an answer he returns to the room to sit at the table.
“This child is really remarkable,” the head doctor says after closing the door. “You think he knew they were in the other room ready to psychically attack him?”
No one answers. No one could.
“He is very powerful,” the young woman says. “I have never felt any one with such raw energy.”
Androo sits in the room, silently listening to their conversation through the closed door.
The doctors decide it is time for Androo’s testing to move beyond their triangular scope.
A couple days later, Androo is being ushered to a secret compound protected by heavily-armed military men, high-scale surveillance cameras and exterior intrusion sensors.
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The students had paid little attention to the black van that pulled into the elementary schoolʼs parking lot that day. And no one said a word as a man leads the child into the van before it drives away.
The black van takes Androo an hour away from his school to the large, secure compound with various office buildings. When they arrive, a man escorts Androo inside for further testing.
The inside reminds Androo of a hospital with sparkling clean tile floors and adults dressed in white coats. But no hospital Androo has ever been in had heavily-armed uniformed guards posted at some of the doors.
Children, Androo’s age and older, are separated according to their different levels of psychic abilities. One of the doctors introduced Androo to one of the organized troop who looks at the child with mild curiosity as two men in black suits stand nearby.
“These children are as special as you are,” the doctor tells Androo. “You will be working and training with them.”
Androo watches the children as they perform different tasks using their abilities. But most of them seem limited, only having one or two and sometimes three abilities at a time.
Minutes later, the doctor takes Androo to another room where some children are sitting at a large table with electronic tubes attach to their heads. Separated by rows of dividers, doctors test the childrenʼs powers to see if they can tell them the images on the cards the doctors hold in their hands.
The cards have numbers, letters of the alphabets as well different shapes and objects.
Androo listens as each child, without looking at the cards, names the different images on the cards. He is not really impressed.
Still, he is curious why they are at this vast compound, hidden from the rest of the world, and why they are being tested.
“These subjects you see they are in the beginning stage of their abilities,” the doctor says. “But you will not be working with them. We have something more special for you.”
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Androo and the man walk to a door at the end of the hall where a security guard is standing. The doctor enters his security code and he and Androo walk inside, the door closing silently behind them. Only a select group of people are allowed behind this door, the doctor tells him.
They walk down a long hallway as Androo looks at the children of varying ages, dressed in all black and who are being trained for a specific task.
They are very well-organized with six members in each group, walking in a straight line like Androo had seen on the military base where his dad works. After all the groups march into a room the size of a large gymnasium, the double doors are closed behind them.
“You will be working with children like these,” the doctor says. “But first I would like you to come to my office so I can sit down and interview you.”
But before they leave to go to the man’s office, the doctor opens the double doors so Androo could see what the children are doing inside.
Androo watches as the children practice hand-to-hand combat and psychic warfare, deflecting knives and guns from their opponents with their thoughts.
Then the man closes the door.
They take an elevator to the building’s top floor and minutes later, Androo is sitting in a large plush office. The man, who is now seated behind a large brown desk, looks at the child sitting in front of him.
“Do you like what you see so far?” the doctor asks, smiling.
Androo ignores the man’s question and asks one of his own.
“Why am I here?”
“We brought you here because we want you to work for us. We want you to help us to bring in bad guys who do bad things to people,” the doctor says, his gaze leveled at the child.
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“The children you see here. They work for me. They go out and get bad people so we can lock them up in jail so they can’t hurt anyone. We want you to do the same thing.
We know you have special abilities. We want to test you further and train you before we send you out into the field because these people are really dangerous and we don’t want you to get hurt. Do you understand what I’m saying?
Androo nods his head. He likes the idea of helping to catch bad people.
“Yes sir.”
The man continues to speak to Androo about protecting innocent people and helping his country. When Androo asks about the name of the organization and who they are, the man deflects his questions.
“All you need to know is that we are the good guys,” the man says, smiling.
Later that day Androo is watching his mom in the kitchen as she prepares dinner.
“How was school today?” his mom asks.
“Two men dressed in black suits took me away from school and took me to a big building,” Androo says. “They want me to work with them to help bring in bad guys.”
His mom looks at Androo, unsure if he is serious.
“Somebody took you from the school ground?”
“Yes ma’am.”
For a moment, Androo’s mom stares at him.
“From now on I don’t want you to go anywhere but to school, and after school I want you to come straight home,” his mom says, still unsure what to make of the child’s statement. Then a second later, “And don’t talk to strangers.”
When Androo’s dad comes home, she tells him what Androo says. The next day they are in the principalʼs office, talking to him and the counselor about Androo’s claims.
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The principal flatly denies what Androo told his parents. The counselor tells them their child is simply imagining things.
“It’s not strange that a child with his talents and gifts would have an imagination that is overactive,” the counselor says. His parents seemed convinced and Androo never mentions it again.
But almost daily for the next three years, the black van would arrive with the two men in black suits to take him to the large compound during school hours.
Androo started to behave more like a member of the military than a civilian, always sitting up straight, his posture correct.
They would test him in hand-to-hand combat to help him become more precise in his tactics and help him to develop different martial art skills. They trained him to perfect his psychic abilities; to use his mind as a living weapon. They also trained him to use different weapons, teaching him how to use staffs, knives and guns.
But Androo wouldn’t touch the firearms. He understands they would be used for taking another person’s life. Still, his superior tries to push Androo to take up the weapons, but the child realizes they would limit his free will in choosing whether to take another person’s life or not. No matter how much his superior would get angry at him, Androo refuses to touch any of the guns.
Then his superiors notice when they try to force him to pick up one of the guns, the room would get really hot. Fear would besiege the trainers, forcing them to leave him alone.
Everyone in that room from the superiors to the youngest child look at Androo as they wipe at their sweat. The trainers are unsure what to do and what to make of the child whose mind appears to be very strong and powerful. Finally, they call in the head superior.
“Okay Androo calm down,” the head superior says. “We are not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. But you have to learn how to use a gun.”
“No sir. I do not want to learn how to use a gun because they are not natural. Guns are only design for one thing and that is to kill. I do not believe in killing another person.”
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“What if one of the criminals has a gun, what are you going to do? Don’t you understand how dangerous this job is?”
Androo looks at the head superior and then he looks at everybody else.
“One of you pick up a gun and point it at me,” he says.
They look at Androo as if he is crazy.
For a moment no one responds to his request. Then the head superior tells one of the children to pick up a gun off the table and point it at Androo. The child picks up the gun and, standing several feet away, points the gun at Androo. In an instant, the boy feels a sharp pain in his head. The gun drops as the child falls to his knees, groaning in pain and holding his head.
Everybody is astonished by Androo’s mind control, his ability to instantly cause pain to another person with his thoughts.
“What all can you do?” his head superior finally says, looking thoughtfully at the child.
But Androo just stands there, a wall of silence.
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CHAPTER SIX
After three years of going through special training and using his psychic abilities to handle special tasks for different secret agencies, Androo finds an unlikely friend atone of the agencies.
The child who doesn’t believe in taking another personʼs life becomes close friends with a man whose career is built on killing. But at first, Androo wasn’t aware that his new friend is an assassin.
Tall with brown hair, a medium build and an imposing personality, Chris often works alone — until heʼs sent on an assignment he couldn’t handle on his own.
For months, the agency has been hunting for a specific young man. It was Chris’ job to find and assassinate him. But the seasoned assassin didn’t know what the target could do.
The young man his agency sent him to kill has some kind of psychic ability.
When he finally tracks him to his home, Chris discovers he couldn’t take him down.
Upset and angry Chris reports back to his superior, wanting to know why they sent him out on a paranormal assassination. Chris doesn’t have any psychic ability and was never assigned subjects with special abilities. He has read and studied the subjectʼs files. He knows every detail about the target, a necessity in his line of work. And nowhere in the file does it mention that the target has any form of paranormal ability.
But Chris isnʼt the only one who is surprised.
His superior listens as his best-trained assassin tells him how he was thwarted by the target. They are in his office on the compound with the targetʼs file open on the supervisorʼs desk.
“I wasn’t aware that he had any psychic ability,” the superior says, puzzled. “I donʼt understand how we missed it.”
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They carefully peruse the parcel-thick file, trying to figure out how they missed that he had any form of paranormal or psychic ability. But they find nothing new and close to an
hour later they finally closed the file.
“Perhaps I have a solution to this problem,” the superior says. “I have this young child that has extraordinary abilities. His ability is more superior to anyone with psychic abilities that I have come across. Perhaps he can help with this case. I will assign him to work with you as a special unit.”