I See Dead People

He knew immediately that he wasn't going to get his way. He would have to suck it up and sit next to people. Besides, how hard could it be?

__________

Harry really didn't know how to keep his mouth (mind?) shut. It was apparently very difficult to sit next to people. Especially when people want to talk to you about the same thing over and over again.

Harry heard a snap and quickly looked in his hand where the crayon was in two pieces. Harry grimaced; that was the fourth one so far, and it had only been thirty minutes.

Harry couldn't even focus and draw; he gave up trying after the sixth time Adken had asked if they could play together. Now Harry was just organizing the art supplies, no matter if Miriam would gently ask for one and use it.

Harry never said yes, but he didn't particularly care if she took it or not. At first, she would try to put it back exactly as he had it, but she quickly realized that there was no actual point. Harry would fix it anyway, even if it was perfectly in place.

It irked Harry that she would just set something down in the general direction of where it was before, but if he was being honest, it was better than her previous failed attempts at orderliness. It just wasn't right when the older girl did it.

"Say, Harry! You want to go play after this? There is a new game that seems cool!" Adken asked.

*Snap*

Well, there goes number five. Harry slowly turned towards Adken and glared at him. It wasn't that Adken was repeatedly asking him questions; no, it was the volume that made Harry want to jump out of the nearest window.

"Adken, please leave Harry alone. He'll play when he wants to do so." Aanya muttered, rubbing her eyes with her fingers.

Adken looked at Aanya for a moment before smiling at her. "Do you want to play with me? There is a new game that seems cool!"

Aanya sighed softly but nodded. "Well, come on then, let's go see this new game; is it Battleship?" She asked while holding her hand out for Adken.

Adken gaped at her in amazement while running towards Aanya. "How did you know? We just got it!"

"Well, what do you know? It seems like my mind has a mysterious way of working." She said, leading Adken to the game shelf.

"We've had that game since last year, did you know?"

Harry blinked and turned to Dennis, who smiled at Harry.

"Yep, you heard me right. We have had that game for some time. Adken doesn't even like that game. I have tried to tell him, but I imagine you already know how that goes. He forgets almost immediately." He chuckled.

Tertia gave Dennis a severe look. "Don't make fun of Adken; it isn't right."

Dennis rubbed the back of his head in apparent embarrassment. "I wasn't making fun; I promise I wasn't. I was just telling Harry how it was. I would never joke about Adken and his problems."

Harry turned away from Dennis. He hoped that with Adken distracted, maybe he would be able to finally color or maybe even paint. Harry loved painting back in primary school, even if they rarely did so. So he was actually quite excited when he saw the paint tubes sitting in the middle of the table.

Harry reached for a tube of blue paint but was unsuccessful in grabbing it due to a larger hand grabbing the paint. Harry quickly retracted his hand and placed it on his lap.

"Do you want the paint, kid?" A gruff voice asked.

Harry looked up shyly at Ylva. Remembering Kitsugaya's words, Harry quickly shook his head. Ylva snorted and brusquely shoved the paint tube toward Harry.

"Take it; I don't need it. Unlike you, I went through the complex color wheel; I know what color makes blue."

Harry could see Miriam frown from the corner of his eye. He hoped she wouldn't say anything, but it wasn't meant to be.

"Ylva, you can't mix colors to make a primary color. Everyone knows that, and besides your being mean to Harry."

The table was silent for a moment. It seemed like everyone was holding their breath. Even when Ylva snorted, the table was quiet.

"Oh really? You think I don't know my colors? Watch this." Ylva immediately grabbed a magenta paint tube and a cyan tube and poured them on her mixing plate.

After mixing the colors together, it was plain for everyone to see that the two colors made a blue. Miriam's eyes widened in surprise, which made Ylva burst out laughing.

"You think you know everything, huh? A little seven-year-old thinks she is smarter than me!"

Ylva bent down to Miriam's level and smirked. "You don't know anything, not a damn thing. Oh, and about the little half-pint, why don't you mind your business? If I'm being mean to him, he'll speak up. Won't you, Half Pint?"

She turned to Harry and stared into his eyes. "You'll tell me right away if I am mean, won't you?"

Harry tucked his chin into his chest and looked away from Ylva. He could feel his face heat up; he really wished for his room now. He didn't know painting would cause so much trouble. Harry's mouth was dry, and he could feel the room start to tilt.

"Hey! That's enough, Ylva; leave them alone. You know Harry doesn't speak, so what's with the intimidation tactic? Leave Miriam out of it; you only know the color wheel in all of its complexities because you went to an art school." Tertia admonished.

Ylva rolled her eyes and got up from the table. Huffing, she grabbed her stuff and went to her room, slamming the door.

"I'm sorry about that, Harry; she was out of line. I believe most of us understand that you are mute. For her to press you to speak was rather rude. I hope you aren't deterred from painting." Tertia said, giving Harry a small smile.

Instead of responding, Harry looked down at the paint and set it back in the middle of the table. He didn't want to paint anymore; it was obvious that it would only cause problems. Harry decided that he would just go back to putting the crayons in the correct place.

Harry ignored the fact that this made Tertia's smile drop and gave his undivided attention to the crayons.

"Wait, Tertia; mute means unable to speak. But I've seen Harry speak to Kitsugaya a few days ago; he isn't mute if he can speak." Dennis said.

Harry froze; he did not like where this was all going. Luckily, Kitsugaya quickly spoke up.

"Yeah, he speaks to me; it's, uh, a part of his culture. Yeah, that's it! He talks to the first person he meets in a social setting, but then he can't do it anymore. It's so ingrained that it actually becomes really difficult to change. You have to be a certain type of person, you know?"

Dennis frowned and looked at the both of them. "I've never heard of that before. Where are you from, Harry?"

Harry shrunk back and looked at his shoes; maybe it wasn't so lucky that Kitsugaya spoke up after all.

Kitsugaya frowned at Dennis and shook his head. "That's rude, Dennis! I don't ask where you're from just cause I've never heard of your culture."

Dennis blinked at Kitsugaya in confusion. "B-but, I'm from here?"

"That's not the point," Kitsugaya said briskly. "The point is, you shouldn't question people's cultural backgrounds. Besides, I don't think Harry knows where he was born."

"That's silly; how does he not know where he was born! Everyone knows that; even Adken can tell you."

Harry frowned at Dennis and crossed his arms. He didn't appreciate how stupid the older boy made Harry feel.

“Maybe, and just maybe, he doesn't know because no one was around to tell him? Did you think about that, Dennis? Did you think about that before you ran your big, fat, stupid mouth?"

The table once again grew quiet; no one dared to speak. Harry could see Dennis' eyes grow teary.

"Screw you, Kitsugaya! You didn't have to say that; you know how I feel about my weight!" Dennis yelled.

"Yeah, well, maybe next time you should watch your mouth and your weight! You basically called Harry stupid, and I bet he is way smarter than you."

Dennis huffed and made a rude hand gesture before running away from the group.

"Damn!" Odette whistled. "Wow, you know how to hurt a guy, don't you? Welp, five people are gone, which means our little session is basically over. I'm going to my room now; I have... things to do."

With that, Odette bounced out of her chair and went into her room. As soon as Odette walked in, Ylva came out and slammed the door behind her.

Tertia turned toward Kitsugaya with a disapproving stare. "Kitsugaya! What the heck? We don't talk bad about people and their problems here. You know that. What has gotten into you? Obviously, I need to inform Ms. Elizabeth about all of this. They don't hover over us for a few minutes, and we can't behave like civilized people."

"To be fair, Tertia, we are not civilized people; we wouldn't be here if we were." Ylva said from across the room, looking at her nails.

That comment made Tertia groan in frustration and go into a rant about how everyone here was supposed to be civil. Harry turned to Kitsugaya and frowned.

"Can I leave now? I don't want to be out here anymore; will Ms. Elizabeth be mad if I leave?" Harry asked, so only Kitsugaya could hear.

Kitsugaya waved his hand in a so-so manner. "Technically, our art time isn't over until two, and it is currently one-thirty. So if she catches you, she might be a little upset, but once she hears about what happened, she will most likely turn her anger towards me and the others. You can't be blamed for leaving when Ylva and Dennis were being rude to you. By this point, Ms. Elizabeth has an idea of how you are, so she knows how much you can take. Also, I saw her talking with Mr. Burton; they tend to go on for some time; I wouldn't be surprised if they go until three o'clock."

Harry nodded at Kitsugaya. Last time, the older boy was right on his assumption, so Harry decided that he would trust Kitsugaya and just head into his room. Besides, the playroom was starting to make him itch. There was just too much unorganized space.

_________

"Thank you for your time, Philip. I know you are busy with the other wards, but it's about Harry. He keeps talking to himself, like there are other people around. I know I should wait for his test results, but it is starting to concern me." Elizabeth worried.

Philip Burton raised his eyebrow at Elizabeth. "Harry?" He asked.

"Oh yes, I'm sorry. I'm all in a tizzy, but I didn't even explain who I was talking about. Forgive me for that. Harry is my new ward; he is the boy who needed a stomach soother. He's six and the shortest kid in there, the one whose family is on the watchlist."

Mr. Burton nodded. "Oh, that child; I've read his file. It was very interesting; it's believed that he is schizophrenic, yes?"

"Oh yes, that, along with other things as well. I don't want to believe half of what people think, but schizophrenia might be one of them. It wasn't as much of an issue in the beginning; you know, a lot of lonely children make up imaginary friends.

But this is more than that; he hides it. It's like he knows he isn't supposed to say anything. Harry once looked like he was going to cry when he was talking to someone when he first got here." Elizabeth explained.

Mr. Burton leaned back a bit and stroked his beard. "Yes, yes, this does seem like more than childish imagination. It's a rough situation that we are in, though, Ms. Stanfield. The higher-ups typically want a diagnosis before I administer anything."

"Yes, I understand that. I don't want to give him anything that he doesn't need..." Elizabeth trailed off.

"But you are worried about your ward; it's admirable, truly. And from what I have read, there is no one on that boy's side; it's a tragedy. Someone as young as that; it's unbelievable that our young must suffer for our sins."

Mr. Burton walked towards the little window leading to the children's ward and looked at Harry, staring off into space.

"It's admirable that you are worried for him, indeed. I'm sure I can find something that will help him—something tried and true."

Elizabeth was so grateful that she didn't even realize the dark tone in her colleague's voice or the smirk playing on his face.