Eli

        The classroom is covered in golds and crimsons. Cutout turkeys wreathe the whiteboard, and cardboard pilgrims and indians are haphazardly stapled to the cork walls. It's only October, Eli argues, and the Thanksgiving decorations are hardly appropriate. Ms. Randall pretends not to hear him, and the other children are only too happy to do anything other than proper school work to care what month it is. They mess around with the paints and glitter, fingers dragging through glue only to be wiped against denim coveralls, hands and faces sticky with smiles and scraps of colored paper. Eli scowls at the misshapen ears of corn Chiara waves in his face and stomps off for a drink at the water fountain instead. Their shrieks of laughter follow him down the hall as he drinks, swallowing the ice-cold water in great calming gulps.

        The hall is silent, though separated from the classrooms only by half open doors. The sounds coming from within are strangely muted, as though the voices themselves know that their intrusion would not be welcome. It is finally quiet enough that Eli can hear himself think. He counts the speckled squares on the ceiling, multiplies them by rows and divides them again, rearranging them like flexible puzzle pieces in his mind. He counts for as long as he can, dreading the moment when he has to go back in, the clock on the wall ticking it’s way to infinite silence.

        But go back in he does, for he knows his absence will be noticed eventually, when the children have nothing but empty containers and paint covered clothes to occupy them, and the flimsy paper turkeys with their too wide eyes are no longer a novelty.

***
        Eli is doing well, writes Ms. Randell, his reading level and ability with numbers are way beyond his years. He has trouble getting along with his classmates, and is too precocious for most of his age group. It would be better for him if he was transferred to a higher level class, or to another grade.

        The letter is well received by the family. Saige and Daryl Mathis have always suspected that Eli is gifted, but this is the only time they have received anything approaching confirmation of his genius. They are thrilled, as most parents would be, for it promises a slightly brighter future for their son then they had previously imagined. The twins are much too preoccupied with planning the 8th grade Christmas dance to think about their baby brothers IQ, which both Nathan and Rebecca believe has already been proven. Dinner that night is still something of a festivity nonetheless. Eli buries his face happily into his favourite chocolate pudding while his siblings bicker about the validity of silver balloons in a non-space-themed gathering. Saige looks on proudly as Eli debates with Daryl about whether chocolate pudding should be a permanent staple to their meal. His young face is unexpectedly serious as he points out that chocolate provides plenty of energy. Daryl rebuffs that argument easily, but he smiles at Eli and pushes his own portion of pudding towards him.

***
        Eli waits quietly outside Dr. Weisman's office. He sits on the cushioned bench and swings his feet, studying the carefully done up shoelaces. It is slightly eerie, the way his eyes never leave his shoes, the way he swings them in perfect rhythm and blinks on every third swing. He is offered a lollipop by the secretary, which he refuses with a scowl and a fervent shake of his head that, though impolite, is adorable on him. The secretary smiles awkwardly before retreating to the safety of her desk, unsure of what to do. Eli scares her a little. They all do, really. All the child prodigies. She isn't sure why.

        Inside the office, Saige Mathis sits on the beanbag chair where her son had sat only 5 minutes ago. Dr. Weisman sits opposite her, black pencil skirt smoothed down over her knees. Though she is the sole owner of this office, she is the one that looks out of place. A miniature mountain of picture books and toy blocks and stuffed animals sits in the corner. There is artwork, abstract, modern, and colorful, in mismatched frames over the pale green walls. No desk, just an antique coffee table that sits in the back of the room, balancing an empty mug and a sheaf of notebooks.

        "Your son is a delightful child." Dr. Weisman taps her clipboard with her pen.

        "Thank you,"

        "But I'm going to be honest with you, Ms. Mathis -May I call you Ms. Mathis, or would you prefer Saige?"

        "Ms.Mathis is fine." Her voice is a little wobbly. She has a feeling that bad news is coming.

        Dr. Weisman gives her a firm, but reassuring smile. "Ms.Mathis, your son is highly developed at his age. More so than most kids a few years older, even. He has traits many gifted children display, like the ability to see patterns quickly -thus the ability with numbers, speech, so forth."

        Saige nods. She is unsure where this is going.

        "What you must know is that, while Eli is gifted for his age, he might not be entirely ready to move on to another level -emotionally, I mean. I know that you and your husband are eager to move him into a higher level class, but you might want to consider your decision. I have no doubt that Eli is ready to cope with the studies, and he is well-behaved enough, but is he ready? This is a question you must ask yourself and your husband. And Eli, of course."

        Saige nods again, a little confused. She feels like a school girl in lessons, being taught by a patient teacher who is calmly explaining to her that CAT spells cat, partially understanding but also uncomprehending of how a creature, a spirit, a personality can be contained within a single 3-letter word.

        "Do you understand me, Ms. Mathis? I know this is a lot to take in."

          Saige begins to nod again but catches herself before she completes the motion, instead forcing herself to meet Dr.Weisman's pale blue eyes. "I understand you perfectly, Doctor." She doesn't. "I'll think about it tonight with my husband." She won't. She doesn't even know what she's supposed to tell him. "And I'll talk to Eli about it." About what? She's already made up her mind. Dr.Weisman might be right about everything else, but she knows Eli is emotionally more mature than his classmates. He's friendly and inquisitive and is ready to learn.

        Dr.Weisman nods and gives Saige an encouraging smile. "That would be for the best." She caps her pen and stands up, heels thumping softly on the carpeted floor as she makes her way to the coffee table. She shuffles through the notebooks and folders until she comes up with a small pamphlet and a stack of forms. "Here," she hands Saige the pamphlet:Nurturing and Caring for the Gifted Child. Saige takes it gingerly, as if it is a small ticking bomb that will go off in her face.

        "Read that through with your husband and think about your options. You don't have to transfer Eli yet. He could just go into the Advanced Placement Programme for some of his classes and spend the rest of his time in his usual classes, so that he can have a normal childhood growing up around children of his own age. Let him develop his own interests and learn how to interact socially amongst his peers. It's something all children, even gifted ones, have to learn."

        Dr. Weisman gives Saige a moment to soak this in before thrusting the stack of forms at her. "If you and your husband do decide to go through with your original plans, fill in these forms and come see me again so we can talk this through, and I can get you the necessary paperwork you need. You're welcome to call me or meet with me at any time to discuss Eli's behavior, his progress, plans for the future, etc."

          Saige slips the forms into her purse and glances at her watch as she stands up. She's glad she called in to take the entire day off. Eli's evaluation took much longer than she expected, and she thought that once he'd finished she could just get the documentation and go. It's almost lunchtime, and she might as well go do the grocery shopping and the laundry on her day off. "Thank you, Dr.Weisman. I'll call you when we've thought it through." She moves to leave but the other woman holds up a hand to stop her.

        "Just a moment, Ms. Mathis." Dr.Weisman says,"Please think about what I said today. Think it through seriously. Eli doesn't have to transfer to another grade. Not just yet."

        "I know." Saige's voice is harder than it has been all morning. For once she lets a little of her frustration and exasperation show. "Like I said, I'll think about it."

        "I just wanted to make sure," Dr. Weisman smiles. "Meanwhile, I think you should know that we have a program here that provides private counselling sessions for Eli and other gifted children. Most will be one-on-one, of course, but it will also give Eli a chance to interact with other kids who are also advanced and in special programs at their own schools. I'll mail an information packet to your address sometime tomorrow. It's really a great opportunity, and it can help Eli adjust better to whatever you and your husband decide on."

        "That sounds great. Thank you for your time, Doctor." Saige practically rushes out the door.


        The secretary watches as Saige and Eli make their way down the hall to the elevator. Eli’s mother is silent and contemplative, but Eli talks on animatedly without pause, his voice echoing down the corridor and bouncing off the walls, his words coming back to the office twisted and incoherent, but always, always coming back. The secretary sighs, she wishes her son would be as talkative.

        She slips the last of the papers into the labelled folder and piles it neatly on a tray to review tomorrow. Keeping files and records and contacts for Dr.Weisman has never been an easy job, given the doctors complete disregard for order and her tendency to mess up the physical data despite the clarity of her mental organization. But she’s done it for long enough now that she knows exactly how to handle it.

        She glances at her watch, and stands up, reaching for her faded blue coat that hangs on the back of her office chair. She doesn’t want to be late.

        “Doctor? Is it alright if I leave early for the weekend? All the files have been organized and I already called Dr. Ferrell about the Newman girl. He’ll meet you for lunch next week to talk some more, he wants to meet her and maybe do another evaluation.”

        Dr. Weisman smiles, “Of course, Sarah. And how is dearest Albert? Isn’t he starting his after school art class today?”

        Sarah nods uncomfortably, “Yes, actually, that’s why I’m leaving early today. He’s never taken one before, and I wanted to be sure he would adjust to it properly.”
        “Of course, Sarah. Well, you know that if there’s anything I can do for him, anything at all, just bring him to talk to me, okay? It’ll be no problem at all.”

        “Thank you, Doctor. But he’s doing fine for now. I’ll see you next week.”
Sarah leaves the office quickly, her well-worn pumps thudding dully on the floor, her fingers nimbly knotting her scarf around her neck. She doesn’t want to miss Albert’s first day of art class, not for anything.

***
        “I just don’t get why you’re so upset,” Daryl’s voice crackles over the phone. “It’s not like she told us not to transfer him, she just told us to think about it. And we already have. I don’t see what the fuss is about.”

        “I’m not sure either, but I do know that I want to take some more time on it. I don’t know why, but it made me a little uneasy.” Saige doesn’t like being uneasy, she has always trusted her instinct on matters, and right now they are telling her that she should wait. Tearing the foil packet of Mac and Cheese powder open with her teeth, she adjusts the phone so it’s clamped between her ear and her left shoulder as she pours the powder into the simmering water. “She gave me a pamphlet and I’ve been looking at it, I think we should look at our options for a bit. Reevaluate, you know what I’m saying?”

        Daryl Mathis sighs on the other end of the line, the sound turned harsh and tinny by the phone. “Honey, you’re just stressed. We both know Eli is ready for this, he’s a smart kid, honey, smart enough for anything we give him. If we want to get him in the right classes by next semester, we need to start the preparations now. I talked to Grace about it, and she has a niece who’s also gifted. She says it’s no problem at all, and the transition is nothing to worry about. Let’s just talk about this when I get home.”

        “Okay,” Saige stirs the sauce with the wooden spoon, and leans out the kitchen doorway to look out at the twins. The children are suspiciously quiet, and though it might have been just a long day, she doesn’t want to take a chance. Nathan is scowling at his math homework on the sofa, while Rebecca and Eli are sprawled across the rug, watching some other documentary on National Geographic Channel. Nothing wrong with that. “I’m sorry, you must be exhausted.  How was the conference?”

        “It was fine, the deal's definitely going to get through, but they're playing indecisive, trying to make us give them better terms. We talked for 4 hours straight today, and still no progress. This is getting ridiculous. We all know they have no other option, and yet they're still pretending. I'll just have to wait it out. Thank god Tom and Grace are here as well."

        "When do you think you'll be back?"

        "I don't know," Saige can practically see him running his hand through his hair. "I'll probably be home later than I planned. Monday, maybe. But it's likely it will last until Wednesday. There are some things I'm supposed to check up on while I'm here."

        "I miss you," Saige says, "The kids do too. Come back as soon as you can."

        "I'll try, tell them I love them, okay?"

        "They know."

        "We'll talk about Eli when I get back, but you might want to start filling out the forms now just in case. I love you, honey. Call you tomorrow."

          "Love you too." Saige says, but the phone has already clicked off, and the words are left hanging in the dial tone, lingering in the gray abyss of words that are said but never heard.

*****************
P.S. This is probably going to take a while to finish, but I'm definitely going to do it. I hope you like it. :)