Ashton Enchanted » [cashton] √

1.7

eight years earlier

Ashton was sitting on the third last step from the top, his shoes were already tied, and his backpack was on. Once a week, Wednesdays, his dad took him to school; it was in his favourite drop-top. The car was old an old 1990 convertible Mercedes, it wasn't worth very much, and Ashton hadn't known it, but it didn't matter, he felt special driving to school with the top down. It was also the only time he had just with his father.

This morning it felt like he'd been waiting forever, and his parents had been yelling almost as long. He wouldn't say he was used to it, but it wasn't an uncommon occurrence in their house.

"I am sick to death of taking him to school, every time I turn up, his teacher comes out and has all of these complaints about his behaviour! Which I wouldn't mind if you'd let me do something about it, but you won't let me make him do anything. God forbid your little angel does what he's fucking told!" his father was bellowing at his mother, Ashton knew they were in the same room, there was no need for him to be so loud he could hear him a floor below.

Then it was his mother's turn to start up, "Don't you dare talk about our son like that! He is downstairs waiting for you to take him to school, it is his favourite day of the week. You will not be doing this; you'll break his heart,"

"Well you can tell him that you're taking him because I will not be embarrassed another morning, people we know are at that school when I drop him off, they hear what his teachers say to me," his father's voice was firm, and he heard a door slam.

He steadied his tears though, he knew his mother would get even more upset if he saw her crying, and he didn't want to see his mother cry again.

He heard her heels on the carpet and then the stairs, and he whipped his head to see her coming down them, hand steadying herself on the railing. She smiled wide when she saw him looking, he smiled back, but he didn't miss the flush in her face and the distance in her eyes.

"Daddy's not feeling well love, so I'm going to take you okay?" she phrased it as a question, but it wasn't so Ashton nodded and stood up ready to follow her out the door like every morning.

She ran her hand through his hair as she passed him, a fond gesture that he was quickly growing out of as he got taller and taller.

He stayed quiet most of the ride to school, neither his mother nor he mentioned the yelling from his father, and he didn't know if his mother assumed he hadn't heard or if she didn't know what to say.

When they finally reached the school gates, his teacher did come and speak to his mother, Ashton had heard it all because, by nature, he stuck close to his mother, it was the safest place. She always stopped him from doing embarrassing things if he were close enough. So it was there that overheard the words 'ADHD' and 'referral' and stopped paying attention, he knew his mother would politely thank them for their advice and never follow through. They both knew Ashton's problem wasn't an attention deficit, a personality disorder or autism. Those were all things they could have made little lifestyle adjustments and created good routines for him to help with, and he had no doubt he would have lived a full and happy life. All the kids he'd met over the years who had one or the other of the aforementioned we're nice, happy kids.

No this was something else entirely, something profoundly evil and cruel and at nine years old he'd already known that.

Then came the part of the day he hated most, his mother waved him goodbye, and he waved back, smiling, pretending he wanted to be here. Because when he didn't, his father would yell more, and she would drink more, and then there was more yelling. And it wasn't their fault he was so strange.

The first part of the day was okay he supposed, it was the second week since the one friend he'd made this year had moved, and he was used to it by now. Then came lunchtime where he tried to hide behind the brick wall, well away from the handball courts. But some of the children decided that handball wasn't enough to entertain them that day, and went looking for him.

Again, not uncommon. They found him eating his apple behind the wall. Kids were intuitive, was what Ashton had learnt over the years, no matter how many fresh starts he got, they always seemed to realise he was weird. Then among those that found him weird, there were still the ones who seemed to realise that he would do whatever they told him. He wasn't sure what they thought the reason was for his obedience, but he doubted they discovered he had to do whatever they told him.

"Ashton, if you want us to be friends with you, we need you to do something for us," the girl grinned wide and when he didn't reply she continued, "go and steal Ms Lionel's puppets,"

His body stood without his permission, and he started back towards the school building. The others giggled and whispered, 'Is he really doing it? Or is he just walking away?'.

His stomach was flip-flopping, he really liked Ms Lionel, she was the music teacher and always told him that she knew he was shy, and would never call on him, and draw attention to him. And he only had her once a week, so it had been hard to make a good impression, but she'd told him he had a natural talent for the drums, and that she would give him free private lessons when he was a little older if he wanted. And it was the one thing he'd begged and pleaded with his mother to let him do, and she'd agreed once he turned ten he could learn to play the drums.

It wasn't hard to get into the music room, especially not when the curse gave him answers like, 'the back window is always open, climb up on the airconditioning unit and through the window'. Heaven forbid there be anything he physically couldn't do.

Once he was through the window, he knew where she kept the puppets, inside an old guitar case. Their names were string and pick, and that was their home, well at least that's what the puppets told them. He picked up the guitar case and knew immediately it was the right one, the rest were far too heavy for him to pick up on his own.

He took it out the front door, making sure there was no one in sight before he relocked the door and went on his way back down behind the brick wall where the others were waiting.

"There, the puppets are inside," he told them, "what are you going to do with them?" he asked, afraid it was something awful.

"Play with them duh," one of the girls said, giving him a disgusted look and the rest broke out into laughter, before taking the case from his hands and heading off on their way, laughing and talking.

Ashton made his way back to his lunch box, which when he opened it he found they'd eaten the contents, and he was left with nothing but an ice brick and a banana. He sighed and slumped against the wall, he'd gotten away with it, but it was only a matter of time before Ms Lionel realised they were missing. Then the teachers would say things like, 'Tell me the truth, who was it?' and Ashton would tell them unflinchingly it was him. Or the other kids would get caught with the case and then they'd say Ashton stole them and gave them to them, no matter what it always shook out the same, with Ashton in trouble for something he'd definitely done, but had never wanted to do.