A Caring Heart 4

"What are you doing?" I demanded. "You said you were going to be nice to him!"

I saw Carl grip harder on Stevie's arms, saying, "This is to make sure you go through with it."

"Let him wait in the room!" I barked, "He's scared!"

"Then you'd better hurry." Carl insisted.

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I saw Stevie stop struggling against Carl's stronger arms and close his eyes while he started crying. I did my best to show Carl a look of absolute hate and disgust and just when I was going to send a fist flying to break his face, I saw his grip tighten again, hurting Stevie.

"Okay!" I said quickly, hoping Carl would ease up a little.

"I'll be real quick Stevie." I tried to reassure him.

I turned around, finding myself less scared of the stupid little car on the floor. The strength was back in my legs and my hands weren't shaking, but balled into tight fists. I walked forward toward the car and stopped only a foot away, speaking the words clearly and without falter.

"Willie Nillie, I've got the willies. Come to me!" I said, in a demanding tone. I was hoping that the car would move across the floor and Carl would be satisfied with what he got on tape. For a few long seconds, nothing happened. All was quiet and as I began to repeat the words again, the car started to roll toward me. I could feel the heated expression of anger that was fixed on my face as I watched the tiny car roll forward. I felt the tiny car come to a stop when it tapped against the tip of my foot. I immediately turned all the way around to face Carl, who was still holding a very scared little Stevie in his grip.

"There!" I growled at Carl, "Are you happy?"

But Carl didn't respond right away. I waited for him to release my little buddy or I would have to get physical and rip my boy from his arms. I could feel the power of adrenaline coursing through me, making me feel the need to fight. My pumping fists were strong at my sides as I waited to lay a punch at Carl's jaw. However, Carl wasn't being defiant with me, he wasn't even holding onto Stevie as tightly as before. Both Stevie and Carl's eyes were wide with surprise and pointed at the floor below me. My eyes looked down and I saw the wooden car creeping its way between my legs, and moving toward Carl and Stevie.

I heard Carl let out a scared whimper just before he released Stevie. I saw Stevie quickly run away and into the bedroom, leaving Carl there, petrified and staring at the moving toy. I had never seen Carl look so vulnerable and instead of being scared, I was glad.

It was mass chaos in the hallway as boys shouted and ran to slam doors shut while the car creeped its way across the floor. Finally the wooden toy stopped about six feet in front of Carl's cringing figure, then launched into the air at a fast velocity bouncing off Carl's forehead with a loud clack.

By the time the toy hit the floor, Carl was already running into a room, David had dropped the camera on the floor and I was alone in the hallway. I found myself surrounded by a hallway of shut doors, but one door opened showing a very angry Mr. Menard. The tall man looked from me to the camera and then he eyed the toy car on the floor.

"Pick that up." Mr. Menard ordered, pointing at the video camera on the floor. He walked down the hall and picked up the toy, putting it in his pocket, then told me to follow him.

The tall man walked wearing a disturbed expression. He was quiet the entire time and I was sure we were headed to his office, which meant that I was in big trouble. The door to Mr. Menard's office opened, showing me a room that I hadn't seen in years because I usually never got in trouble for things. The tall and skinny man, gestured for me to sit in the upholstered chair in front of his desk and I did so quickly.

Mr. Menard removed his black night jacket and set it on the back of the chair behind his desk. I heard the man let out an audible and grumbling sigh as he stared at the floor. I watched quietly and waited. Finally, the man's long fingers fished the toy car out of his jacket pocket and set it on the desk in front of me. I looked at the little car then watched Mr. Menard reach up to grab something off of a shelf that was up high. My jaw dropped as I saw Mr. Menard set down two similar wood carved cars next to the first one. I heard the creaking leather as the man sat in his chair and tapped a lengthy finger on one of the cars.

Mr. Menard had a deep throaty voice that made a grumbling noise just before he spoke and I heard this noise several times before he finally said anything.

"You know," Menard croaked, "I was an orphan once too?"

I shook my head in reply.

The large man nodded his head and sat back in his chair, saying, "I had a best friend and I think you could call him somewhat of a father figure." He let out a deep laugh. "Of course we were only little boys and it was like you are with young Stevie. I looked up to him because he took care of me."

The tall man reached behind his chair to pull a silver picture frame off of a shelf, staring at it in silence, then adding, "He took care of all of us."

I was finally able to see what was in the frame when Menard set it on the desk next to the cars, facing me. I was looking at an old faded black and white picture of a boy who looked like he was my age. The boy's hair was short and he wore shorts with suspenders that he let his hands hold onto. I grew a slight smile as I noticed the dimples in the boy's cheeks as he grinned for the picture.

It was always nice to learn stuff about the people around me, but I was still curious about the punishment that I would receive and I wondered if Stevie was okay after his terrifying ordeal in the hall. I hoped that he would be sleeping peacefully in his bed and not being mentally tortured by Carl and the other boys.

Mr. Menard stared at me, plainly seeing my thoughts on my face. "You're wondering why I'm showing you this, instead of punishing you?"

I nodded my head lightly, looking away.

"I'm showing you," Mr. Menard explained, "Because this boy," he pointed to the boy in the picture, "Is your ghost."

I felt my eyes widen and the blood run from my face. I stiffened back against the chair I was in, in an attempt to gain distance from the smiling boy in the frame. I gulped feeling like the boy was staring at me.

Mr. Menard shook his head slowly. "Don't be afraid of him Artie. I'm showing you this so you'll understand who is sharing our school with us." He took the picture frame into his hands again, putting me a bit more at ease.

Menard looked up at the picture, lost in thought. "His name was William Nealy." Menard looked at me for a response, but I gave none.

"What's that phrase you boys say to get a reaction?" Menard asked, now meeting my eyes directly, "Willie Nillie," Mr. Menard said, "Sounds similar to Willie Nealy doesn't it?"

I sat up in the chair, a bit more alert as I took in the information. I looked at the man behind the desk as he went back to staring thoughtfully at the picture. "He was the oldest boy in the orphanage and he took on the role with broad shoulders. You see, we were orphans during the depression when no one wanted to adopt and no one was able to donate money or toys." Menard paused, glancing at the toy cars on his desk.

'But Willie treated us like his own family and made sure we each got a toy car for birthdays. He spent days hand carving each toy just for us." I could see the moisture building in Mr. Menard's eyes as he remembered the boy that he looked up to. "He saved candy throughout the year and made christmas morning special when we got to have a treat while we sang songs together."

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