Stefan turns back toward the light and looks up inside the shade. “I wonder how this drab, decrepit little light makes such beautiful colors?” He taps the lamp. “Make it again!” Nothing happens. “Come on. Don’t you talk?” Silence. Stefan feels his shoulder length hair with an expression of puzzlement. He holds a piece of hair near the light and a bright rainbow light shines from it.
He collapses to a sitting position on the bed with a frown and his arms crossed in frustration. “Well if that isn’t like the squirrel stealing my nuts.”
Neshalia coughs. “Let’s not use that expression, Stefan.”
“But the squirrel does. I want to magnetize his brain and stick him to the side of the building for the duration. I never get to finish my bag during recess. It’s weird that they are not afraid of me. They leave all the other children alone. Why me? Everyone always picks on me. If the sun comes out, all the mean boys come to me to pull on my hair. Now I know why. The world hates me, Neshalia. It just hates me. Why do I even exist? Why? I thought I would tell the mean boys some neat stuff about the sun. Maybe that would make them stop. But they just got even meaner. They said I was my mom’s toy and that my father programmed my brain like one of his computers. Why do they say such things?”