“No!” he shouted.
“Do not yell at me, son,” his father cautioned.
“But I didn’t do it!” he protested, a bit calmer, but not much. “It was Jonas, not me!”
“Xavier, don’t accuse innocent people of something this serious, and stop lying to me,” he insisted, his temper very close to the surface.
“I’m not lying!”
“Xavier!”
“I’m not lying! Jonas is the liar. He probably started it all. He always was a show off…”
Xavier yelped with surprise when his father spun him and struck his backside with two sharp smacks. His gaze flickered to the group waiting quietly a few feet away and was mortified to find all of them watching.
“Are you done with your tantrum?”
He nodded. “But, I’m telling the truth…” he muttered unconvincingly.
“Son, I don’t need telepathy to know that you’re lying to me. When you lie to me, you don’t look me in the eye and you fidget like a man with Parkinson’s. So even though your head is full of believable thoughts and feelings, I know they’re lies.” The boy gulped as he continued, “Now, I’m going to give you one more chance to take responsibility and make this right. If you lie to me again, I’ll break through your feeble blocking techniques and get the truth from you anyway. Did you start those fireworks?”
Xavier ducked his head submissively. “Yes, sir.”
“I see.” The disappointment in his father’s voice hurt more than the smacks, and he winced. “We’ll discuss this more at home. Right now, you and I need to work out arrangements with Mr. O’Donnell. Come with me.”
He led him over to the enamored manager. “Mr. O’Donnell…”
“Oh, my!” Mr. O’Donnell exclaimed, his eyes widening with surprise as he studied Xavier. “Oh, my! This…this is your son, isn’t it? Oh, young sire, it’s so nice to meet you. It’s an honor.” The gushing man grabbed Xavier’s hand and shook it vigorously.
“Mr. O’Donnell, my son is the one responsible for the fire,” Jeremiah announced.
Mr. O’Donnell’s face fell, and he looked down at him with hurt-filled eyes. Guilt gnawed inside Xavier and his gaze dropped to stare at the man’s feet.
His father reached into his hip pocket and withdrew a billfold. “First, here’s some money to get started on the repairs.” He pulled out a check and hastily filled it in. Xavier’s eyes widened at the amount. “And, here’s my phone number and fax number. Please send me an estimate for the repairs,” he requested as he handed the man a small rectangular business card.
“Oh, th…thank you, sire. You’re too kind,” the manager bumbled.
“No, Mr. O’Donnell. You’re the one who’s kind. We are very grateful that you’ve been generous enough to work this out and allow us to make amends. In that spirit, my son will volunteer his services for the next two months to do whatever you need done. I do not want him to receive any special treatment or favoritism. Whatever tasks your current employees dislike doing the most, I want Xavier to do them. He’s very lucky that you were gracious enough not to call the police. We want to make this right.”
“Thank you, sire. I have every confidence that you will. And I’d be more than happy to have the boy’s help on the weekends. It’s our busiest time and there’s plenty around here that needs to be done like sweeping and mopping out the theater, emptying waste bins, cleaning and mopping the lavatories...”
“Ew! You’ve got to be joking,” Xavier muttered. “I’m not cleaning toilets and urinals.”
“Yes, son, you will,” Jeremiah growled.
“But, Dad! That’s not fa…”
“Fair? Please tell me that you weren’t about to tell me that this arrangement isn’t fair, boy. What’s not fair is that this man will be out of business for weeks because of the damages you caused with that idiotic stunt!” he boomed.
Again, Xavier felt every eye on him, and he ducked his head at the attention. He didn’t say another word as his father made arrangements for his community service at the theater.
Chapter 12: Punishment
On the way home, Xavier sat in the back seat of the car with Beck. His father was furious with him. Anger radiated off the king in waves and the passengers sat in tense silence. Beck threw sympathetic glances toward Xavier that did little to relieve the thick, hard lump in his throat. In no time, the car pulled through the kingdom’s gatehouse and the king drove the short distance to Beck’s house in the Merchant Area of Warwood.
“Thanks for taking me, King Wells. It was…well, thanks.”
“Anytime, Beck. Tell your mother and father I said hello.”
“I will, sire.” he turned to Xavier with another look of sympathy. “Good luck, X.”
“Thanks. I think I’m going to need it,” he mumbled.
“You definitely will,” his father whispered savagely from the front seat.
Xavier met a pair of enraged, seething eyes in the rear view mirror and knew he had not only crossed the line today but pulverized it. He hadn’t seen his father this angry since the time he had used his empowerments against Drew in a fight. His father had taken a belt to him for it. He gulped and stared down at his lap, tears flooding his eyes.
Beck shifted uncomfortably beside him. “Ah, well, goodnight, Ms. Applegate.”
“Goodnight, Beckley. See you soon,” Lana replied sweetly.
Beck opened the door, hopped out, and galloped into his house.
The car lunged forward, and they continued toward the palace. In that moment, Xavier would have given anything to be Beck, untroubled and carefree.
“Dad,” he whispered shakily. “Please…”
“Not now, Xavier. I’m dropping off Lana and then, you and I will head home…”
“No, Jeremiah. Take me to the palace with you. I’d like to have that nightcap you promised me, and we need to talk,” she insisted firmly.
“Fine,” he muttered as he squealed the tires, taking the turn through the palace gates a little too fast.
The car jerked to a stop in front of the palace, and Loren trotted over with a grin. His father jumped out, leaving the car running.
“Loren, park the car,” he ordered hastily.
Loren gave him a puzzled look before responding, “Yes, sire.”
Jeremiah wrenched the back door open and growled, “Get out.”
“Dad…I…”
“Get out of the car, son,” he ordered with such authority that Xavier obeyed without further argument.
As he stepped from the vehicle, his father’s large hand clamped onto his arm and marched him into the palace. The guards seemed to sense their king was in a foul mood and quickly cleared out of his path with solemn faces. Once inside the royal residence, his father released him and nudged him toward the steps leading to the bedrooms.
“Go to your room,” he muttered, unbuckling his belt.
“Dad…Please! Listen to me. Let me explain.”
“Explain? You used your empowerments in a common village and endangered the lives of everyone there! Then you lied about having done it! What is there to explain?”
“I’m sorry, Dad!” Xavier pleaded, crying.
“Not nearly as sorry as you’re going to be,” he announced, pulling his belt free from his waist.
“Jeremiah stop!” Lana ordered grabbing his arm. “You’re not punishing him tonight. You’re too angry!”
“Lana…”
“No, Jeremiah. Not tonight! You’ll regret it if you do!”
“Lana, he nearly burnt the movie theater to the ground, and then he lied about…”
“Yes,” Lana replied, anger spiking her tone, “and everyone in that theater knows how you handled his lying. You humiliated him in front of his friends and perfect strangers by spanking him right there in the middle of the lobby!”
“You can’t be serious!” his father growled, turning to her. “You can’t possibly think he didn’t deserve it!”
“That’s not what I said! Yes, he probably did, but you
sure as hell didn’t handle yourself maturely. You were too angry and you allowed your temper to get the better of you. Jeremy, can’t you see it? When you allow your anger to rule how you punish Xavier, you’re treating him just like your father treated you!”
He opened his mouth in protest, but said nothing and simply stared at her. Finally, he nodded his assent.
Lana turned to Xavier. “Xavier, it’s late. Go to your room and get ready for bed. We’ll be up in a few minutes to say goodnight,” she told him.
“Yes, ma’am. Ah…th…thanks,” he answered with a small smile.
“Don’t thank me yet, young man. Though I deeply care for you, I happen to agree with your father on a number of things. Releasing a pyrotechnic force in a movie theater was a stupid thing to do, and you deserve to be punished. However, I think it’s wise to revisit this when we all have cooler heads,” she told him sternly.
His smile dropped, and he stared at her uneasily.
“Now, go to your room Xavier,” Lana repeated.
“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered before turning and trudging to his room.
Fire! The wood was ablaze! He could feel the infernal heat searing his back as he raced through the wood, his hand tightly clamping Robbie’s.
“Robbie!” he shouted when she stumbled and frantically pulled her to her feet.
“X...Xavier,” she coughed. “I can’t...I can’t breathe. The smoke is too...thick.”
“Come on, Robbie. We must keep...”
Suddenly there was a flash and the trees just feet from them exploded into consuming flames. A blood-curdling scream jerked him awake. His sheets were twisted around him like pythons, and his body was clammy with perspiration. With a shuddering sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair, untangled himself, and stood.
Music lulled into his room through his bedroom door. Curious, he crept onto the landing and peered down into the room below.
Lana and his father were dancing in time to the music, slowly swaying next to the low-burning hearth. The fire cast long shadows throughout the room, but provided enough light that Xavier could see the couple quite clearly. As they swept across the floor, their eyes never left one another. Finally, his father whispered something to Lana. She smiled and whispered her answer. The king pulled her against him and kissed her. It was quite a kiss, and soon, his father’s pink glow filled the room. Xavier blushed in the darkness, but his curiosity wouldn’t allow him to look away from the happy couple.
It appeared that his father’s take-it-slow dating plan had just moved into full-fledged dating. He liked Lana. She was fair, kind, and beautiful. She didn’t take any crap from his dad either, and she could get through to him when he was being a complete jerk too. He couldn’t wait until they made it official and got married. He couldn’t wait to have her as his new mother, but these thoughts made him feel a bit traitorous towards his mother.
“Xavier, go back to bed,” the king’s voice startled him, and he jumped. He looked down at his father who had stopped dancing. Both he and Lana were staring up at him. “It’s late, son. You should be in bed.”
“I…I tried. I had a bad dream, and then I heard the music. I was just …Oh, never mind. Night.” He sighed and returned to his room.
He climbed into bed, knowing that sleep wouldn’t come easily. It wasn’t just the dream that would keep him awake. It was the fire at the theater. Yes, he had intentionally sent one force over the screen, but the finale of explosions had not been deliberate, and he certainly hadn’t meant to start a fire. How had he lost control of his power like that? Was it a freak incident? Trying to swallow past the lump in his throat, he knew it wasn’t. He had experienced too many similar incidences lately for any of it to be a coincidence. For some reason, his abilities were going haywire. In the last couple of weeks, he had lost control of his telekinesis and nearly crushed a man to death, he had accidentally summoned Robbie and her friends into the lake, his telepathic abilities went silent, and now, his pyrotechnic force had become hypersensitive. The trouble with his powers seemed to be getting worse! What ability would go rogue next? How unruly would his powers become? Why was this happening now?
Maybe he should tell his dad. Maybe if he knew about the trouble he was having controlling his abilities, he wouldn’t belt him. The thought of being hit with his father’s belt again sent him into a panic and for the first time since he had come to live with his father, he contemplated running away.
He was so self-absorbed that when the door opened with a soft click he jumped. The king’s large frame filled in the doorway.
“Lana has gone home,” he whispered. “So if you wanted to sleep in my bed tonight, I’m going to bed now.”
Grinning in the darkness, he hopped out of bed and followed his father into his room. As his father flicked on the light and set about getting ready for bed, Xavier threw the decorative pillows on the bed to the floor and scurried under the covers. A couple moments later, his father joined him and turned out the light.
“So, what was the dream about?”
He stiffened at the question, frightened that the word fire might send his father into another temper-driven rant, and he briefly considered lying. But, lying would only make things worse so he told the truth.
His father didn’t get mad at all; he simply pulled him close and murmured, “It was only a dream. Everything is all right. The fire today didn’t do any lasting damage and nobody got hurt. Though I’d like to know why you did it.”
“Well, I was just trying to be funny…you know…like when people in love kiss in cartoons, they always have fireworks going off above their heads,” he explained.
“I see,” his father responded neutrally.
He thought he heard a smile in his father’s voice, but in the cloak of darkness, he couldn’t be sure. So he quietly added, “Dad, I’m really sorry about the fire. I never intended for it to happen.”
“I know,” he replied, pulling him close. “Get some rest, son. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
When Xavier opened his eyes the next morning, he found his father sitting up in bed beside him, reading the morning paper and drinking a cup of coffee. The king’s hair stood up on end and stubble covered his face. He took a long drink from the steaming mug before looking down at him.
“Morning,” he murmured huskily.
“Morning, Dad,” Xavier whispered, stretching and yawning.
“Did you sleep all right?”
“Yeah. Once I fell asleep.”
His father chuckled. “I’ll say. You sure like to spread out. I’ve got the bruises on my shins to prove it.”
He smiled meekly. “Sorry.”
“No worries. I’m sure I won’t have any permanent damage.” He folded his paper and set it and the coffee mug on the bedside table before patting Xavier’s leg, standing, and heading into the bathroom. “We need to talk about last night,” he called over his shoulder.
At these words, any grogginess fogging Xavier’s mind evaporated and he was wide-awake. His stomach burned with dread as he silently waited for his father to finish using the bathroom and render the verdict. When his father emerged from the bathroom, he scratched his head and stopped at the foot of the bed. He studied the nervous boy before moving and sitting next to him on the edge of the bed.
“I’ve been thinking about it, and since you used your empowerments without the intention to do harm, I will not whip you,” he explained quietly.
Xavier expelled a great sigh of relief. “Thank you, Father. Thank you.”
“Now, hold on. I’m not saying you won’t be punished.”
“Yes, sir. I know, sir,” he answered, trying to keep the enormous relief from his voice.
“You will be on restriction. For the next month, you are grounded to the royal residence. When you’re not fulfilling your duties here at the kingdom or at the theater on weekends, you are confined to the palace. No playing rugby, no playing with friends, no camp outs, and no swimming at the lake. Do you understan
d?”
“The entire month? But, Dad, by the time I’m no longer grounded, it will be time for school to be back in session. The guys were planning a huge camp out the weekend before school starts,” he pleaded.
“I’m sorry about that but the punishment stands!” he replied. “Son, you know what happens to a king when he endangers others with his powers, intentionally or not.”
He nodded solemnly. “Yes, sir. He can be caned for it.”
“Yes, so intentional or not, the next time you use your empowerments that endangers or hurts any living soul, you will be caned. Do you understand?”
He gulped. “Y…Yes, sir.”
Chapter 13: Little Boy Prince
With a reduced sentence for good behavior, Xavier’s restriction came to an end two days before the start of the new school term. He missed the huge back-to-school campout at the lake so he was anxious to meet up with the guys and see how it went. Determined to spend at least one of his last days of freedom hanging out with his friends, he sprang from bed, showered, dressed, and sat at the dining table eating breakfast when his father entered the room.
“Well, well, well. Look who’s up! It’s strange how I had to drag your butt out of bed during your grounding to do your chores yet here on your first day off of restriction, you’re up with the birds!” he stated, shaking his head.
“What can I say? Freedom agrees with me,” he noted through a mouthful of oatmeal.
His father chuckled. “Well, I’m sorry to say that I will require your company this afternoon from one to two-thirty.”
He gave his father an exasperated look. “What? You’re kidding, right? What for?”
“Your uniforms need altering. You’ve grown a bit since last year,” his father replied, forking eggs into his mouth.
“Great! Just great!” he mumbled moodily. “Why do I have to go this afternoon? Why can’t I do it this morning?”
“I have a meeting this morning, son,” he answered patiently.
“So? I can go by myself, Dad. I don’t need my daddy holding my hand to get sized for uniforms!” he protested.
The Prince of Warwood and The Rise of the Chosen Page 10
