The Best of World SF by Lavie Tidhar (children's ebooks free online .txt) 📕

As expected, it was my father who spoke. All the money in our family comes from my mother’s side, you see. Because of this, my father has always tried to compensate by taking it on himself to be the proactive one, the one always taking charge. And my mother, for her part, lets him.

‘We’ve lived in this town for close to twenty years,’ he said, ‘and never in that time has there ever been an old man in a rocking chair on the beach.’

What was he talking about? ‘What do you mean?’ I asked, incredulous. ‘Of course there has. He’s always there. Everyone knows about him. He has an arm growing out of his back, for Christ’s sake.’

‘People don’t grow arms out of their backs, Dee,’ my father said. He let go of my mother and took two steps toward me. I took two steps back.

‘Is this a joke?’ I said.

‘We hoped it was, Dee, but we can’t keep pretending anymore. We can’t keep letting you pretend anymore.’

‘What are you talking about?’ I asked. I noticed now that the two strange men had definitely moved closer to me. One of them kept looking beyond me, like he was trying to figure out a way…

…to flank me.

‘First it was the Inside-Out Girl,’ my father said. ‘Then it was the Frog Men from Space…’

Outer Space, I corrected.

‘…and now it’s an old man with a third arm growing out of his back. None of them is real. This has got to stop, Dee.’

That fucking name. I couldn’t take it anymore.

‘Why do you keep calling me that?’ I yelled at him. For once, my father was shocked speechless. I felt a moment of savage pleasure, seeing him lost for words like that.

But then my mother spoke, and ruined it.

‘Because that’s your name,’ she said. ‘It’s what we’ve always called you, Deidre.’

*

I thought to myself: My parents have gone crazy.

How did I know this? Three reasons:

One: They claimed to have never seen the old man with the third hand before, never seen him on his rocking chair watching the waves find the land, and that could only mean one of two things: they were either both lying to me – but to what purpose? – or they had somehow blanked any memory of the old man from their minds.

Two: Ditto with the Inside-Out Girl and the Frog Men, who even as we spoke might be planning their final offensive on Planet Earth.

And three: my parents had somehow convinced themselves that Deidre, my imaginary friend, was real. And that I was her.

My head spun. I couldn’t speak.

My father said, ‘Deidre…’

‘Don’t call me that!’ I snapped. I didn’t mean to. It just came out. My parents looked stunned, like I’d slapped them when they weren’t looking. ‘That’s not my name.’

‘Yes it is,’ my mother said quietly.

No, it wasn’t. Deidre was a name I chose, a name I picked for my imaginary friend. It wasn’t my name. My name was… It was…

Okay, maybe I couldn’t remember it just then. Maybe I still don’t remember it now. It doesn’t matter. What mattered was my parents… and the strange woman in our house.

‘You did this,’ I said, turning to face her.

‘Dee, my baby,’ my mother said, ‘I know you’re confused, but…’

‘It’s time to stop pretending,’ the strange woman said, cutting in smoothly. ‘We can help you. If only you’ll let us.’ Her voice was slow and measured and soothing and it made me think of poisoned honey.

I was suddenly afraid of her.

‘Mom? Dad?’ I said slowly, trying to match the woman for voice tone. ‘Who is this?’

My mother broke into fresh sobs. My father took a deep breath.

‘Her name is Dr. Hutton,’ he said to me like I was seven years old. ‘She can help you, Dee. Dr. Hutton is here to take you to a special place where you can be helped.’

I didn’t want to ask. But I had to. ‘What kind of place?’

‘It’s an institute, Deidre, for people like you. People who… sometimes see things that aren’t there.’

He may have said something else, but I didn’t hear him. I didn’t have to.

The strange woman in our house, flanked by two men. Two men in matching clothes. I knew where they were from. I knew what type of institute my father was talking about.

My mother screamed when I started running, as though this was what she’d feared would happen all along. My father did not make a sound. The strange woman cried, ‘Grab her!’

Thick boots scuffling on the floor as the two men gave chase. It was lucky for me that I didn’t lock the front door when I came in.

Right before I slammed the door in the faces of my two pursuers – trying to buy myself a second or two – I risked one last look back. I saw my parents standing together once again, holding each other like I hadn’t seen them do in so, so long. Two islands watching in silence as the sharks chased their daughter.

That is how I remember them still.

Then the door was shut and I was off in the darkness, trying desperately not to trip and fall in the driveway. The minutes after that are a blur even now. I remember jumping over a hedge or two or three, sticking to twisting roads loaded with as many obstacles as I could find, trying to avoid a straight run down an empty street, where the men might run me down with their longer legs.

I don’t remember how I got to the beach.

Looking back, maybe that was always where I was headed. Maybe the beach pulled at me the same way the moon pulled at the waves. Maybe.

It was not a part of the beach that I was very familiar with, though, and in the darkness I missed my footing and went tumbling in the sand. I was on an incline when it happened, and so I rolled almost all the way down to