Chapter 3

Dennis snapped out of his trance.

Where was he? Oh right, he was in the train station, and a giant balloon with his name on it had risen out of the crowd on the other end of the station hall.

More puzzling however was that he was holding a leather-bound notebook. A pen was strapped to the inside cover the notebook, which was blank. Dennis also found a note that he could make no sense of, it read:

‘I wasn’t sure what you would like, as you are not mine, but I thought a notebook to write your ideas and observations in would be nice since you spend a lot of time alone. Hope you find your family soon – K.’

Maybe the matron’s ward had given it to him; that was sure nice of him, and the thought made Dennis feel even better about his day.

‘Coming through, coming through,’ a gruff voice called, and then a man in a blue uniform bearing the word ‘security’ emerged parting the crowd and marched past him, muttering, ‘Huh, another nutcase putting on a stunt in here, giant balloon, what could he be thinking!’

The security guard was moving towards the giant balloon, which had inflated to its full size. The words on the balloon could not be mistaken; they indeed said, 'Dennis Raveley, if you see this come over here! –From the Scholar Academy'. Dennis followed behind the security guard through the sea of people.

When they reached the balloon, the crowd had formed a circle around whoever had inflated it. There were many interested onlookers. Dennis, being slightly shorter than the average commuter could not see fully what was going on since he was not at the front. Then the security guard broke from the edge of the crowd and confronted the person who was now settling himself into a blue folding lawn chair beside the small air pump that was keeping the balloon afloat a few feet about the ground.

‘What in the world are you doing?!’ the security guard demanded.

‘I’m supposed to meet someone here,’ the young man in the lawn chair replied casually, I figure it’s better to let him find me than to look for him in all this crowd, so I figure I need an attraction.’ The young man was dressed in a blue blazer and matching pants; a school uniform.

‘Are you insane?’ the security guard barked, ‘this is a safety hazard!’ He indicated the balloon furiously. ‘What person are you waiting for?’

‘Read the balloon,’ the young man motioned with his thumb towards the words written across the balloon above him. He was a fine looking person with an athletic built and a merry-looking face; one that not just hints, but outright speaks of mischief.

‘That’s enough, I order you to deflate this thing right now or I’ll have to detain you.’ The security guard said, ‘This is the only warning I’m giving you, you hear? Deflate that balloon this instant.’

The young man shrugged nonchalantly, ‘But my person hasn’t arrived yet, I can’t take this down until he comes. It’s very important business I got with this person, you see.’

Dennis had not spoken a word throughout this confrontation. He was at the front of the crowd now, so he walked forward. Neither the security guard nor the young man noticed him until he tapped the guard lightly on the shoulder.

‘I’m Dennis Raveley, are you looking for me?’

The young man took out a wrinkled photo from his pocket. He examined Dennis and then the photo. His face lit up, ‘That’s right! I am looking for you. Nice to meet you Mr. Dennis Raveley, I welcome you on behalf of the Scholar Academy, and personally too.’ The young man got up from the lawn chair, extended his left hand and shook hands with Dennis.

‘Now wait a minute here!’ The security guard cut in indignantly, ‘I’m not done with you, you troublemaker!’

‘Yes, yes, of course, we’re just leaving.’ The young man said quickly. Swiftly, he unplugged the mouth of the giant balloon from the pump, and with a whoosh the balloon shot up towards the high station ceiling.

The security guard was aghast. He stood sort of dumbfounded, watching the balloon soar across the ceiling, letting out its air, and coming to rest handing from one of the enormous chandeliers.

In seemingly no time, the young man had gathered the lawn chair in one hand and Dennis’ hand in the other and whisked off into the crowd. The security guard hollered, ‘Hey! Come back here! You’re in big trouble, you hear! Stop, come back here!’ His shouts were soon lost in the crowd.

The young man streamed through the crowd quickly, dragging Dennis behind him. They came to a less crowded section of the station, descended some stairs and reached a sign that read ‘platform 10 – Northbound Line’. There were few others on the platform. A boxcar train was parked on the left-side tracks, being unloaded manually, and on the tracks to the right was their train; a plaque on each car read ‘long-distance’.

‘Well, I wasn’t expecting you’d arrive so soon. I barely set up my chair and there you were,’ the young man remarked and gave Dennis a nudge, ‘how timely, huh?’

Dennis nodded silently.

‘Here, I’ll carry your suitcase,’ the young man took Dennis’ suitcase from him, ‘wow, light traveler. Normally the kids I meet have a full trolley of stuff, plus the parents, now that’s baggage. But you, you’re making my job a lot easier. Good for you.’ The young man patted Dennis encouragingly. Dennis smiled to himself.

‘Anyway, with my help, you’re going to love it at the Academy, I’m telling you. That reminds me, I’m your senior mentor. I’ll be showing you around campus, getting you to classes and introducing you to some extra things that go on beneath the surface. Starting now, I’m your first best friend, okay?’

‘Okay.’ Dennis said.

‘Have I told you my name?’

‘You haven’t.’

‘Ah, right, I am the Right Honorable Raymond Harold Albert Frederick Timothy Wyatt, Esquire. You are to address me as said name in full while bowing on one knee, so go on, what are you waiting for?’

Dennis blinked, ‘Can you repeat that to me?’

Raymond laughed, ‘Just kidding, call me Raymond.’

‘Okay, that’s much simpler.’

‘You do have an odd way of responding to things, I must say? What should I call you?’

‘Just Dennis, I don’t have a right honorable name.’

Raymond laughed some more, ‘You are a natural comedic, you know that?’

‘Or maybe it’s because you like jokes more than other people.’ Dennis suggested.

‘Clever, clever you are. Ah, there’s the stationmaster, we better get on the train.’

Dennis followed Raymond onto the train as the whistle blew. After finding their seats, Raymond was off in a flash to the lunch compartment to get some early snack, leaving Dennis sitting alone watching the station platform roll past his window as the train pulled out of the station.

Chapter 2

Early next morning, Dennis was woken from his sleep once again by the ward shook. Unlike many of the other orphans, Dennis did not put any posters onto the walls of his dorm room. He had few possessions and they all fit into a single suitcase he could carry with the strength of one arm. The suitcase lay beside the bed, next to his shoes.

Dennis got up quietly. He slept in his outdoor clothes because the matron had told him to have everything packed in the evening, including his pajamas, he guessed. The ward went out of his room to wait outside as Dennis made his bed for the last time and followed the ward out of his former dorm room. Dennis did not look back before the ward closed and locked the door.

'The matron said you can do without breakfast, so have this.' The ward reached into the depth of his pocket and brought out an orange. He gave the orange to Dennis.

'Thank you, sir.' Dennis said.

'Just thank you is fine, don't call me a sir.' The ward replied.

'Thank you.' Dennis said. He pocketed the orange.

'Good, come along,' the ward led Dennis through the familiar hallways of the orphanage, to the double doors of the front entrance. Outside the front gates, a taxi was waiting right by the curb. 'The taxi’s paid for, it's going to take you to the Central Train Station, you'll have a guide from the academy waiting for you there, make sure you find him, because he has your train ticket.'

'Thank you.' Dennis said again, from his pocket he took out the orange the ward had given him and held it up, Thank you for this too.' He added.

The ward felt rather touched, he gave Dennis a slight pat on the back and ushered him through the double doors of the orphanage.

The early morning breeze rustled the firs and birches lining the street. Except for the taxi parked on the side of the road, there were no other cars on the street yet and the sidewalks were empty. The ward followed Dennis to the tall, iron gates and unlocked them, and Dennis walked out. The ward relocked the gates and stood on the inside of it, watching Dennis get into the taxi and shut the door. Dennis looked towards the ward and raised his hand in a farewell wave. 

The ward did the same, though he couldn't help but focus on Dennis' eyes, even until his face was masked by the light reflections on the taxi's windows, and even after that, until the taxi disappeared around the bend in the street. Only then did he go back into the orphanage to sound the morning wake-up bell.
Dennis ate the orange in the taxi. The taxi's radio was tuned to a jazz station. Hearing nothing but silence from his passenger, and being unaccustomed to this, because orphans all tend to be very talkative when they get adopted, the taxi driver - a middle-aged man with a short beard - turned around in his seat to take a good look at Dennis.

'Hey buddy, you're awfully silent back there, got something on your mind?' The driver asked curiously.

Without looking up, Dennis took out from his pocket the orange and said, 'Do you want to share an orange with me?'

The driver didn't know how to respond to such a strange request, he declined, 'Nah, I ate, but thanks.' He searched for something more to say while Dennis began to peel the orange carefully so not to spill and drops of juice onto the taxi's seat, 'You know, I've drove kids like you from that place plenty of times...to where you're getting adopted to, and I've never met a kid from the orphanage who isn't at least half a chatterbox, you sure are a special case, aren't you?'

Dennis thought about this, he said, 'I'm going to a boarding school, have you drove anyone to a boarding school before?'

'Hoy! No I haven't. Looks like you're a first.' The driver hooted, 'what's school you're getting sent to?'

'It's called the Scholar Academy of the Americas, very prestigious.'

'The Scholar Academy,' the driver exclaimed in surprise, 'Why that's no ordinary school! You need a good load of money to go there, how did you get that amount of money?'

'My mother wrote in her will that she saved some money for me to go there once I come of age at twelve, which I did two years ago, but the matron didn't let me go then, so she's letting me go now.'

The driver's eyes narrowed, 'So you're saying the matron should have sent you there two years ago...'

'Nope, that's only what the matron told me, I don't know what she meant by it.' Dennis replied.

'Well that's what's supposed to have happened!' The driver slammed his hands onto the steering wheel, 'The matron cheated you! You get that?'

Dennis shrugged.

'Don't you see? When your mum's will says you ought to go to this school when you're twelve, that's what ought to have happened! With these schools, you pay your tuition - money - on a yearly basis to the school, so when the matron kept you at the orphanage 'till now she was taking two years worth of tuition from you!'

Dennis nodded. He ate another slice of the orange.

'Tell you what, the matron, that slimy hag, what she did was fraud, you can sue her for that!'

Dennis thought about it, 'I don't think I know anything about suing someone.'

'Yeah, right you are,' the driver sighed, 'maybe someday, eh? Right now, just be glad you're out of that place and going to boarding school, eh?'

'Yeah,' Dennis nodded slowly. He finished the orange and pocketed the peel.

'Well, well, we're here,' the driver stopped the taxi, 'Good to have chatted with you, what's your name?'

'Dennis Raveley.' Dennis said.

'Well goodbye Dennis Raveley, best of luck finding your way.' The driver was about to introduce his name before parting with Dennis when to his surprise, Dennis spoke first. They made eye contact.

'You too. Goodbye, Bruce.' Dennis said. Then, suitcase in hand, he turned towards the endless sea of people moving into the great depot's wide arch entrances and disappeared.

Bruce stayed in a trance until the car behind him honked, snapping him back to awareness. He blinked, shook his head and moved his taxi along.

Inside the enormous station building, Dennis moved with a crowd of people, taking in the grand sight around him. He wondered how he was going to find the guide he was looking for in the midst of so many people.

That's when he noticed a giant white balloon the size of a minivan suddenly inflating some distance away near one of the ticket booth lines. Looking above the heads of other commuters, Dennis spotted the words engraved on the balloon: 'Dennis Raveley, if you see this come over here! –From the Scholar Academy'

Dennis smiled. It was a strange feeling seeing a giant balloon with his name on it, he couldn’t quite place it.

Chapter 1

Dennis Raveley had unique eyes; not many people liked those eyes when they first met him, and thus not many people came to like him, after first disliking those eyes of his.

His eyes were a dark grayish color that suited his extremely pale face. So pale was this face that should he lay down inside a coffin and remained still, an observer could have mistaken him for dead. This appearance caused people to believe he is sick and call him 'a sickly boy'. Dennis did not mind this, because in a strange way he was pleased about how he looked and always possessed a fair reservoir of self-esteem as the result of such positive self image, all in spite of his loveless upbringing.

Dennis had very big eyes and long eyelashes. If he had been born without those gray eyes and if he had been born a girl, those features would have made him quite beautiful. His chin was slight and angular, and a small, sharply pointed nose sat above his mouth, which were framed by two thin, wide and not very fleshy lips. His short, groomed hair was a dull black color; it blew in the wind and would become puffy no matter how much the matron of the orphanage tried to press it down with a comb.

The orphanage where Dennis lived since he was brought there at the age of five was an old, Victorian structure that had never been renovated since it was built. Surprisingly, there was never a rat infestation at the orphanage. Somehow, despite being in the oldest section of the city, rats had avoided this ancient structure. The orphanage was a large building. It had been built as a boarding school, and served as one until it was replaced by a newer school nearby, when it was converted into an orphanage run by the state. The building had fifty rooms in the dormitories. The number of rooms grew as the size of the city grew; the old neighborhood were the former boarding school was built had become steadily poorer, and abandonment was common among young children, these children were ever so often left on the steps of the orphanage, so as more and more children were left in its care, the orphanage divided rooms that had formerly been spacious classrooms into cubicles to create more dorms. Altogether, by the time Dennis arrived at the orphanage, there were one hundred and twenty rooms in the orphanage, housing more than five hundred children.

Dennis didn’t have any friends; no one liked him because they could never stand looking at him in the eye, and neither could any of the forty social workers at the orphanage. They paid no attention to him and didn’t know he was there, and when they did know, they tried to ignore him. When he was seven years old, Dennis found a pair of sunglasses on the sidewalk outside the orphanage. He kept it and wore it around the other children and councilors at the orphanage, so they did not have to look in his eye if they wanted to become his friend. It did not work.

Dennis kept the sunglasses anyway. A lot of women were wearing them because large sunglasses were a fashion trend in those days; Dennis was pleased with himself when he found out that he was following a trend, but more so because large, thick-rimmed glasses looked very nice on him. Four years later, the orphanage councilors discovered that Dennis was nearsighted. Since he sat at the back of the class in school, he had to frequently walk to the front of the glass to read what was on the blackboard because he couldn’t see from the back at all. Getting eyeglasses did not trouble Dennis much; like the pair of bulky sunglasses, thick lenses also looked quite nice on him, especially because his already large eyes were even further magnified, and Dennis developed a habit of looking at himself in the mirror for long periods of time, in silence.

This was precisely what Dennis was doing when one evening he was summoned to the matron’s office. It was a Thursday before the Mid-March school vacations, and Dennis was staring at his reflection in the window of his little dorm room, his chin supported by two elbows propped on his desk next to his bed.

The matron’s ward entered without knocking. Checking the note he had in his hand, he said, ‘Raveley Dennis, the matron summons you to her office, right now, go.’

Dennis turned around in the chair he was sitting in and put on his glasses. ‘Okay.’ He said quietly. Dennis got up and followed the ward down his hallway, past the rows of doors, and into the administration wing of the building.

The administration wing was modeled after the school he attends, two blocks from the orphanage. The walls were newer than in the dorms, and the ceiling had less cracks in them. However, the single hallway of the wing was significantly darker, lit by dangling lamplights from the ten feet tall ceiling. The floor was wooden and creaky. The hallway echoes the footsteps of anyone who passes.

The matron’s office was at the end of the hallway, facing the straight hallway directly. Dennis had only been to the matron’s office on two occasions. Once when he first arrived at the orphanage, which he could not remember, and one other time when another child dumped a bucket of dishwater on him because the boy didn’t like how Dennis looked and had to apologize to him personally in the matron’s office.

They approached the matron’s office briskly. The ward knocked on the wood and Dennis heard the matron say, ‘Enter!’ The ward ushered Dennis into the office and left, closing the door without another word.

Dennis stood inside the doorway of the matron’s office and looked around. The walls of the office were whitewashed. The matron sat at the far end of the long room, behind a wide desk. Behind here hung a life-sized portrait of her, a plump, mid-aged woman with a powerful build, rigid posture, and a hard, steel gaze. The blind were drawn over the windows on either side of the room, and the office was illuminated by two tall lamps behind the matron’s armchair, one on each side, like two pillars. Filing cabinets and bookshelves stacked with books lined the walls, and framed items hung above them.

‘I did not instruct you to look around as you please, Dennis. Come over here.’ The matron indicated for him to move forward.

Dennis nodded. He walked forward towards the matron’s desk, where she was reading several papers clutched in her hand. He took a seat in one of the three armchairs in front of the matron’s desk. The matron looked up.

‘I did not say you can sit down, Dennis.’

Dennis nodded and got back up and stood next to the armchair.

‘Now, say, may I sit down, ma’am?’

‘May I sit down, ma’am.’ Dennis said.

‘Yes you may,’ the matron put the papers she was reading onto her desk and looked at him. She picked the papers up again and held them up for his to see. Dennis adjusted his glasses and looked at them.

‘Do you know what these papers are?’ The matron said.

‘No, ma’am.’ Dennis replied.

‘Quite the simpleton you are, aren’t you?’ The matron said, she shuffled the papers, ‘This is your mother’s will, she had written it shortly before her death and I had witnessed it personally. Do you remember your mother?’

‘No, ma’am.’ Dennis replied.

‘Are you interested in what your mother has left for you in her will, Dennis?’

Dennis thought for a bit, ‘I don’t know, ma’am.’

‘Of course you don’t, I should expect you to know nothing of the sort. Do you wish me to explain it to you in terms you can understand?’

‘I don’t know that either, ma’am.’

‘You’re certainly not like the other orphans, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘So that you’re sure of,’ the matron snickered, ‘well, you’re sure right about that, you’re nothing like the others, you’re less. You know that, don’t you?’

‘I don’t know, ma’am.’

‘Well now you do, because I can confirm it, so don’t think you’re anything special, because you’re not, is that clear?’

‘Okay, ma’am.’

‘Yes. It’s yes, ma’am, not okay, ma’am.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Good, now, I’ve wasted enough time trying to get through to you, so here’s the bottom line, you’re getting out of here.’ The matron searched Dennis for any sign of an emotion other than his monotonous trance, there was none. She continued, ‘shortly before she passed away, your mother had come to this orphanage institution to deliver you. In her will, she stated that you are to remain here until the age of twelve, upon when you shall be dismissed from here to attend the Scholar Academy. Do you know what the Scholar Academy is?’

‘No, ma’am.’ Dennis replied.

‘Of course you don’t, it is the most prestigious collegiate institution in the country, the Scholar Academy of the Americas. It is near the East Atlantic Coast, across the country from here. Your mother, in her will, had left you a large sum of money as tuition for you to attend the academy, though I can’t began to imagine what good a private school education could have possibly serve you.’ The matron paused to sigh heavily, ‘I see no promise in you, Dennis, you are already fourteen years of age, is that correct?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Good, then you can do the math and see that your mother had meant for you to leave here two years ago. Me, I didn’t see how you could have made it out there two years ago, you weren’t ready, and I still don’t even though you’re now two years older, but your mother’s wishes must be honored, so I have no choice but to dismiss you, it can wait no longer.

‘You will leave in the morning, your bag must be packed tonight, and you shall do so immediately upon returning to your dorm.’ The matron finished and looked at him with disgust. Dennis’ eyes were downcast, and the matron was relieved she did not have to look at them.

Dennis looked up, his eyes, magnified through his lenses, locked with the matron’s beady eyes, she froze.

‘May I go now, ma’am.’ Dennis requested.

The matron choked on her words, she quickly recovered and gestured for Dennis to get out of her office. Dennis bowed and left for the door, leaving the matron with a disturbed sensation at having seen something extremely unsettling.

The ward had waited outside the office for him and led him back to his dorm room, where he set about packing his bag for a new life.

Cut! Let's Do That Scene Again.

How many times can an author make a wrong start with a story before hitting a right one?

As many as it takes; as long as the author still considers the story doable.

After a long period of inactivity, I have decided to scrap this new beginning of Dennis Raveley and once again start from scratch-ish. This is the third attempt to get a beginning out here that I will settle with.

The new new beginning will be posted as soon as I get all the stuff at school for this week over and done with.

Chapter 10

 'Who's Kenny, if I can ask?' Dennis asked Raymond as Raymond led him, limping, down a wing of the mansion he had yet to enter.
'He's my youngest brother, sixth in the family.' Raymond said, hobbling as he talked, 'He's a film bluff, quite a hardcore one too. Unless you are of his rank in movie knowledge, I strongly urge you not to bring up the topic of films in conversation with him, he will talk you to near-death and then some.'
'Was he the one who booby-trapped the theater?' Dennis asked.
'That's him, I tried to tamper with the locks once, got the deadliest electrocution experience any man has probably ever lived through to tell the tale.' Raymond replied with an ironically sentimental expression across his face.
They went up a flight of stairs and Raymond opened the doors into what appeared to be a sun room. The room seemed to be in between the first and second floors of the mansion, at level with the middle staircase landing. The chamber had a tiled glass ceiling and two walls made out of glass panels also, resembling a greenhouse.
'This was originally an indoor greenhouse,' Raymond explained, 'My grandmother was a good botanist, so I was told, and she kept this whole room worth of rare plants. They all died along with her. Since the rest of my family had been and are extremely non-gifted at raising greens, especially my little sister and that hot-headed cousin of ours, they're the leading plant killers in this family, did you see what The Storm did to those rosebushes outside? It's a good thing Mr. Quincy knows a few things about gardening, or else there wouldn't be any plants in this house, not even the cat grass. Quite lifeless this home is, as a matter of fact.'
The former greenhouse was laden with many musical instruments, including every one that can be found in an orchestra in the western hemisphere. The instruments were hung and rested on three large shelves, some gathering dust, and others were strewn on the floors. Dennis could not name the names of half the instruments in the room. In addition were many folded chairs, music stands, and stools. Nearest the entrance, on a rack hung what appears to be the most frequently used four of the many violins. Beside the rack was a stack of sheet music with the thickness of three library dictionaries and cases for the stringed fiddles.
Raymond picked up a violin that was lying on the cement floor and took a bow hanging from a music stand and began to fiddle absently with it as he sat down on a stool. He began to play a speedy tune.
'Do you know this song?' Raymond asked while his arms carried on playing without interruption.
'It's the song they air on the radio every Christmas.' Dennis said.
'Pachelbel's Canon, my personal favorite.' Raymond said, 'Have you fully acknowledged my supreme skill in musicality?'
Dennis realized that Raymond was carrying on a conversation as he fiddled the tune, it was as if Raymond's arms and mouth are being directed by two separate minds each concentrating on their own tasks. He nodded, fully amazed.
'You know,' Raymond said, still fiddling rapidly at twice the tempo Pachelbel's Canon was written for, 'I didn't know that very few musicians can talk and play at the same time, I only found out when I started teaching Addy.'
'Wow.' Dennis said.
'Wow indeed, if it wasn't for me none of my siblings would have become half as good as I am in this stuff. I mastered it first, the others followed in my footsteps...well, except for the twins, they are of a separate league.' Raymond paused in his speaking but the music continued, he was now replaying the piece from the start and from memory. 'Name any of the instruments in this room and I can show you a few moves with it.'
Dennis pointed to an erhu in the far corner, 'Where did you learn to play that?'
'That? Easy, once I figured out one stringed instrument, I figured them all out. More proof of my prodigal nature.' Raymond stopped playing abruptly and told Dennis to retrieve the erhu for him. Dennis brought the two-stringed fiddle and the bow to him and Raymond tuned it.
'With this one I had a bit of trouble, you see,' Raymond said, 'Barely anyone on this side of the world knew how to play the thing, and I had to learn Chinese to find a tutor. Believe me, I'm not one for languages.'
'You speak Chinese?' Dennis exclaimed.
'Enough to bargain in the markets.' Raymond said and laughed. He performed a short mellow tune on the erhu, and he said, 'This is a depressing instrument, that's what I think. I prefer the livelier fiddles.'
Raymond set the erhu aside and stood up on his good foot, he shoot his other foot and wiggled it, and then stood upright on both feet. 'I think I can stop pretending now.' He cleared his throat.
Dennis was so taken aback he moved back some steps and struck a gong.
'That's right, music and drama, my specialties.' Raymond bowed signaling the end of his broken foot performance, 'I learn from bone-shattering mistakes, that's why I wear steel-toed shoes now, they help my leg muscles get buff too, where ever I walk to.'
'You were very convincing.' Dennis said, straightening himself up.
'Oh you're flattering me, it's causing a man to blush, but indeed, I am.' Raymond smiled with self-assured dignity, 'Just don't tell Addy and The Storm, she'll come after me with a chainsaw if she found out.'
'Okay,' Dennis said, 'I never tell.'
'Great, I knew I could count on a little brother.' Raymond said, 'By the way, I'd like to show you something else, come this way please.' Mimicking a maitre d', he opened the door for Dennis and extended an arm in exit motion.
Raymond led Dennis up to the third floor and they entered the ball room. Two stories high and illuminated by three chandeliers, the spacious hall had two double-doors on opposite walls, and all across the walls large portraits were draped by brown tablecloth. More portrait frames were stacked along the walls and on the carpet, all of it covered by cloth.
Two life-sized portraits hung on the tall white walls were not covered. One of them was of a slightly younger looking Raymond in a tuxedo, standing with a wide grin, a hand wrapped around the fingerboard of a violin, the bow resting in his other hand on one end and the back of his neck on the other end, held like a whip.
The other portrait beside Raymond's was of Addy, also looking a few years younger, wearing a black dress top and holding a violin across her chest. Dennis realized that the portrait was only of her upper body, and on closer inspection he saw that the lower half of the painting had been severed along with the frame that held it. The canvas had been cut neatly across the width in a straight line, taking off the part of the painting that must have been Addy's legs. In the painting, she was smiling subtly, her black hair was longer, and her face seemed less pale. Dennis regarded the two paintings, despite their size, the dark room seemed too large for only two portraits.
Dennis heard Raymond's voice, 'We hope you can get us siblings united again, and then we can hang up the other portraits, and you'll be up there with us too, you bet.'

Chapter 9

The rain continued to fall heavily in the misty outdoors, and pools of water gathered in puddles in the pebbled driveway of the Wyatt Mansion. A black car made shiny by the rain was driving shakily up to the front entrance, it narrowly missed the cement fountain, and stopped just short of flattening a patch of bushes lining the wall of the house. By then Raymond had ran full speed to the doors to meet this new arrival, shouting, 'The storm is coming! The storm cometh! Oh! The Horror!' He was putting up a very convincing act, and Dennis speculated that Raymond might foam in his mouth in the next moment.
Addy asked Dennis to wheel her to the main entrance too, following Raymond. She looked excited, as if a long-anticipated guest had finally arrived.
'Oh, the horror! Run, hide, take shelter by any means! The terrible storm cometh!' Raymond was outside, frolicking madly in the rain, kicking up stones from the ground, running aimlessly in circles. He was at the top of his dramatic form, and excitement was coursing through his veins with vigor.
Dennis did not understand Raymond's act, he stayed inside the double doors and peered out from the glass panels as Addy too went out by herself to join Raymond and gestured for him to stop his mad raving. Addy unsheathed an umbrella for the new arrival, one that Dennis did not notice her picking up earlier.
The single occupant of the black vehicle - the driver - exited after some time spent turning off the ignition and closing the headlights. She was dressed in black down to her boots, matching her straight black hair and beret. She had with her a satchel on which were decorated with homemade buttons. She looked to be about Dennis' age. Dennis pushed through the doors to get a better look at her.
Seeing that Dennis had come out of the mansion, Raymond threw his arms wide and said, 'Aye, the storm has come! You've not taken my warnings to heart and sought shelter? It is now too late, Simone the Storm cometh in all her glorious terrors!' Raymond bowed.
'Oh shut up, Raymond!' The girl shouted. She signed to Addy, who signed back, and then noticed Dennis for the first time. She signed to Addy, pointing at Dennis occasionally, who replied without verbal translation, and then she concentrated her stare on Dennis alone. She assessed him suspiciously.
'So just who are you?' She demanded in a questioning tone.
'This, my little cousin, is Dennis, the right honorable Dennis Raveley.' Raymond said, putting an arm around Dennis' shoulders. Dennis looked at him, put before he could correct Raymond that he did not hold the title of right honorable, the girl had spoken.
'Raveley? What kind of a name is that?' The girl said, she crossed her arms.
'Good question!' Raymond held his hand up to stroke his chin, 'What indeed is the origin of this unusual name? I've never thought of it.'
'Of course you've never thought of that, I'm surprised an inept, stupid moron such as yourself even addressed this concern.' The girl said.
'Objection, inept and stupid are incorrect adjectives to describe yours truly.' Raymond said.
'As if, I can come up with ten better ones right now, let's try senseless, imprudent, ridiculous, half-witted-' She advanced upon Raymond and punched his arm. Raymond's face contorted into an actor's agonized face, and he fell back onto the ground, swooning.
He's a good actor, Dennis thought of Raymond. The girl captured his attention again.
'So, I've learned of your name through that neanderthal, and I've wasted enough time here in the rain, I'm Karla, Karla Simone, by the way of French descent. We shall see once inside whether I am pleased to have met you.' She did not shake Dennis' hand and Dennis did not offer his hand for shake. Karla went over to Addy and wheeled her in through the front doors. Raymond got up from the ground then and escorted a rather stupefied Dennis back under the shelter of the mansion.
Once in the front hall, Karla turned once again to Dennis and said, 'You've yet to answered my question, now, about the origin of your name, if you please.' Raymond had gone off to fetch his bazooka to show Karla, and Addy stayed to observe.
'I'm not sure,' Dennis said, 'I think it's a portmanteau.'
'A portmanteau, of what?'
'I don't know, maybe of Raven and Hedley, they form Rave-ley.' Dennis replied with a shrug.
'Hum, disappointing. I'd thought someone with such sophistication in appearance would be equally intelligent.' Karla exhaled, 'You're not meeting my gaze, what's troubling you?'
'Nothing,' Dennis looked up and into Karla's eyes, they were brown.
'You have very strange eyes.' Karla said.
'They're different.' Dennis said.
'They're...just-why are your eyes like that?'
'I don't know, I never read any books that could explain it.'
'You're a queer boy.' Karla said.
Dennis didn't say anything, he shifted his gaze a bit and then nodded slightly.
Karla signed to Addy, who pointed towards the hall leading to the kitchen, where Raymond was just returning with the bazooka in his arms.
'What in the world?' Karla exclaimed.
'Ha! Impressed, eh? I found this in the basement, why don't you examine it closely?' Raymond walked up to Karla and in a heave thrusts the weapon at her, who caught it in both arms and almost collapsed from the weight. 'It will do you good to strengthen up.' Raymond grinned at his little high-risk stunt.
While Raymond gloated to himself and others, Karla stepped forward and dropped the bazooka on Raymond's outstretched foot.
'YEAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!' Raymond howled in pain and fell sideways like a toppled stack of stones. He writhed on the carpet and rolled on his side. Karla flashed a satisfied smile and Addy rolled her chair to her and they high-fived each other. Addy smiled too.
Dennis winced.
'One more thing,' Karla turned to Dennis and stared into his eyes, 'You seem lacking somewhat, are you aware of that?'
'Nope, lacking in what?' He asked.
'In crucial human qualities.' Karla replied and strolled away with Addy.
'In crucial human qualities,' Dennis repeated to himself, 'what's that mean?' He asked himself.
'Come on, my friend Dennis, help me up, I still need to show you my musicality.' Raymond reached and pulled at the collar of Dennis' pants, he bent down to support Raymond.

Chapter 8

Addy's smile disappeared when she saw Raymond carry a bazooka into the kitchen, she pointed a finger at the canon and ordered Raymond to explain himself.
'I found this, literally found this lying around in one of the storerooms. Can you believe it? This thing can probably take down even the president's car with one hit.' Raymond cradled the bazooka with two arms, with pure delight written all across his face.
'It can also blow us all up if it goes off,' Addy said through the telecommunicator, 'You better take it outside. Is it loaded?'
'I found the missiles, but I couldn't carry them all up in one load, I'm going to go find a burlap sack to bring the ammo upstairs too.' Raymond made a move to go looking for the burlap sack.
'You better leave them, you're not an explosives expert.' Addy replied.
'So? I've studied weapons development, I know all about a bazooka.' Raymond turned to Dennis and said, 'I'm the only one in this family who had been to university, remember this fact.'
'You're also the only one to drop out of it.' Addy said.
'That's because I am a genius, and geniuses of my breed do not need diplomas or honours, I am above and beyond those items of insignificance, I am-'
'Stupid.' Addy finished the sentence for him.
'That only proves your jealousy. Tell me, which monumental genius of human history was recognised in his own time by his own people to the fullest extent? None. They all were misunderstood by their lesser peers and ostracised for their accomplishments. It's not a easy world for geniuses.'
Addy sighed and refused to rekindle this argument which they've had many times before. She turned back to Dennis and began typing, more words came out of the telecommunicator, 'So you've heard my plan, what do you think?'
During the time Addy and Raymond sparred, Dennis got up back onto his stool and sat there silently and politely waiting for the conversation to conclude. He thought Raymond's short paragraph about geniuses was very well spoken, and he was thinking about Raymond's question: which monumental genius of human history was recognised in his own time by his own people to the fullest extent? and trying to come up with an answer when Addy turned her attention back on him and asked him what he thought about her plan.
'Aristotle.' He said.
'What?' Addy typed.
'Aristotle, he was a recognised philosopher in his time and he was very popular.' Dennis said.
Raymond understood his response first, he said, 'But it wasn't until centuries later that greater geniuses discovered how wrong his doctrines were. That damaged rather than elevated his reputation.'
'That is not important,' Addy said frustratedly, 'How do you like my plan, Ray doesn't have the brains to give a credible opinion, I hope you do.'
'Will it work?' Dennis asked. He was still very full and the fall from the stool made his want to barf.
'It will, studies show that the best type of person to reunite an estranged family is an outsider.' Addy said.
'But that's not the only reason why we want you here,' Raymond added quickly, 'I always wanted a brother to follow in my footsteps and you are perfect for that.' He patted Dennis on the shoulder. 'Not to mention, if you do get the job done and us Wyatts become a pack again, I'll be able to collect a few more medals at the Music Olympics this coming year, and you can be our equipment manager during the trip, and we'll be able to do gigs, get invited to the philharmonics and the symphonics, and tour like we used to.'
'Dream on, I'm never playing in the same orchestra with you again.' Addy typed, 'You always second me to principal.' Even through the microphone, Addy's simulated voice had a tang of annoyance to it.
'You are musicians?' Dennis asked.
'The best in the world.' Raymond replied.
'Keep dreaming, you haven't even taken practicing seriously for the past two years.' Addy said.
'I'm a prodigy, I don't need to practice.' Raymond said, he shrugged.
'That's how prodigies sink to mediocrity.'
'Fine, but which one of us two here can play all of Paganini's Caprices?' Dennis knew that Niccolo Paganini was a violinist, so Addy and Raymond must both be violinists.
'You couldn't do his 24th.' Addy pointed out.
'I did so.'
'You used steroids.'
'Only once, just to see how it sounds once I get it up to speed.'
'And you didn't get it.'
'I did, only I didn't tell you, it would have hurt your feelings...and now I am doing just what I promised myself I wouldn't do.' Raymond sighed dramatically.
'Prove it.' Addy typed and crossed her arms, there was a scowl on her face.
'I'll get my violin.' Raymond said and walked out the kitchen door with the bazooka still in his hand.
'My brother's the biggest violin hot shot in the world, but not the best violinist, I can tell you that.'Addy typed. Dennis was having a slight trouble keeping up to speed himself, it was the rapidly shifting topic of the siblings' debates that were feeding him too much information he didn't understand.
'But that's the other thing I want to do too, the one Raymond brought up, we can compete in the Music Olympics as a quintet again if you get us back together.' Addy typed.
'You are renowned musicians?' Dennis asked with awe.
'Musicians yes, not renowned, I'm only twelve, that's too early to be renowned...but we were indeed very good.' Addy smiled, pleased about the subject. 'We, meaning Raymond and I and two of our other siblings, we formed a strings quartet, and my older sister accompanies us sometimes. That was three years ago. The most unbelievable thing about it is what Raymond chose to call the group, he came up with 'The Nuts Quartet', and that became our official title.' Dennis couldn't say anything.
'It's a reason for the Wyatt siblings to get back together,' Addy typed, 'We're a musical team, after all.'
Dennis thought of something; it was irrelevant to the topic at the time, but he blurted out anyway, 'So I'm kind of like Nanny McPhee...I mean about what you adopted me to do.'
Addy laughed, 'Kenny would have loved that reference.' She typed.
'Who's Kenny.' Dennis asked.
'He's-' Addy began but she was interrupted by Raymond, who once again burst into the kitchen carrying both a violin case and the bazooka, shouting, 'The storm is coming! The storm is coming! Oh take shelter, the storm is coming!'