Becoming the King / Charlie Finds His Voice Sample

The light of a full blue moon fell upon the empire. Wind whispered its  way along cobblestone streets lined with stone buildings. Other than a peasant staggering his way across the road and the rustling of leaves swirling from the breeze, all was silent. The castle, a robust, dominating structure made from roughly carved granite, imposed its presence. Flaming torches lined the battlements high in the castle walls. The wind embraced a high-pitched scream that tore from the queen, and delivered to all, the birth of a boy who from that moment began his journey of becoming the king.

     Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, the class bell had rung much longer than normal.

     As we grabbed our backpacks, Miss Brever took off her reading glasses, closed her book & announced, “Now as for homework, everyone is to read the rest of the first chapter. We will discuss it in class tomorrow.” I quickly thumbed through the book to see how many chapters and pages were concealed in this rotten thing. Fifty-four chapters! Two hundred sixty-two pages! Oh my God! This sucks big time!

       Miss Brever found me in the crowd and called out, “Charlie, I need to see you.”

       Oh man! This isn’t gonna be good. I stood waiting at her desk as I watched each kid walk one by one through the door to freedom. Flipping through the papers on her desk, she finally pulled out my last creative writing assignment.

      “Now Charlie, this is a very interesting story.” I remained silent & still, but my mind was racing. “It’s very creative, Charlie, and I was impressed when I read it.” I smiled, thinking, Geez, this might not be so bad. Then she continued, “I was reminded of the fear I had the first time I read it… when I was a little girl.” Uh-oh this isn’t good. 

     Staring at me with her beady little eyes she asked, “Charlie, do you know what plagiarism is?”

     Shaking my head but knowing that it must have something to do with copying someone else’s stuff, I became very aware of my lunch churning in my stomach. Not wanting to look directly into those eyes, I just stared at the note that she had written in red on my paper along with a big fat F.

     “I gave the class two weeks to write stories of their own and you were the only one who turned in someone else’s work.” Her tone was harsh and angry, “What should we do about this Charlie? How can we make this situation better?”

     Thinking to myself as she waited… Don’t say it, Charlie, don’t say it, then I had to say it aloud, “Um, I don’t know.”

     She shook her head and handed the paper to me. “Have your mother sign this. You’ll have to stay after school next week to make up this assignment.”

     I took the paper from Miss Brever and on my way to the door I started to wonder if that F was in ink or pencil. Just as I thought I was free; she pounded another nail in the coffin.

     “I’m truly disappointed in you, Charlie.”

     I didn’t look back; I just kept walking, wondering how I was going to give this to my mom. When was I gonna give it to her? Oh man, is she gonna be mad. I stopped outside the door and checked the paper. INK!  Miss Brever came outside, looked at me, locked the classroom door and walked away. Looking across the schoolyard… which I found deserted, I felt very alone. Instantly, I planned to take my time getting home.

     I grabbed my key, opened the door, ditched my pack over the top of the sofa and headed for the kitchen. I knew what would make me feel better… an ice-cold milk and my favorite fudge-filled cookies. I figured I’d better eat a load of these before I gave the paper to my mom. I bet I won’t see cookies again for a year. The last time a teacher scribbled on my paper, I had to stay in and study math for the whole weekend.

     Instead of doing homework like I’m supposed to, I turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. Dropping cookie crumbs here and there, I cleaned them off of the furniture by brushing them onto the floor. Maybe I’ll vacuum later. Something caught my eye, and I froze. I saw it but I didn’t believe it. A commercial for a movie called The Birds. Oh my God! That’s the story I copied!

     I didn’t need to read the story. I could have watched it on TV. A thought flashed through my mind. Quickly, I dumped out my backpack and found the new book, Becoming the King. I grinned and started flipping channels. Why read when you can get these stupid stories off the TV? It only took a minute to realize scanning channels wasn’t gonna work. I searched the TV Guide channel and looked up the movie section. Nothin’! I’ll have to think about this some more.    

     I found a good cartoon and dipped in another cookie. Before I knew it, I was lying down and had dozed off.

     I felt a spider creep across my cheek, and I slapped my face. Then it called my name, “Charlieeee.” Wait, that’s not right. I opened my eyes and could have screamed. My mom’s face was about an inch away from mine. She smiled. Rubbing my eyes, I tried to stand on wobbly legs.

     “Charlie, did you eat anything?”

     I told her that I had eaten some cookies and that I wasn’t hungry. She offered to make me a sandwich, which I politely refused. “How will you ever grow up to be a big strong man if you don’t eat?” I mimicked her mouth since this was her usual saying when I don’t want to eat. I’m twelve years old and I know my mom better than she knows herself.

     “Charlie you need to take a shower and get ready for bed. Are you done with your homework?” I whispered to myself.

     Then right on cue – “Charlie you need to take a shower and get ready for bed. Are you done with your homework?” she says. Need I say more?

     I went and grabbed my pajamas. I actually like taking showers. Sometimes after I’ve washed up, I like to sit down and just let the warm water hit me. I especially like doing this when I have forgotten to take a shower at night and my mom makes me take one in the morning before school. Warm showers always make me feel relaxed.

     After my shower, I went to lie on my bed with the new book. Somewhere after the first page, the young prince began to grow up and I began to fall asleep.                      

     I heard my mom yell as she left for work to turn off the alarm. Oh man! I just fell asleep. I hate it when I just barely close my eyes and that dang thing goes off. Then again, I love it when I wake up and realize I have another five hours before I need to get up; those nights are cool. Unfortunately, this wasn’t one of them. I was so tired that I got dressed while lying down in bed.

     Finally, I stumbled out to the kitchen, started chompin’ my peanut butter toast, and poured an ice-cold glass of milk. Mom left a note reminding me that she had to go in early for the breakfast shift at the diner. She was filling in because she needed to make more money. Usually, she doesn’t go to work until I’ve left for school.

     I grabbed a couple bucks from the lunch money jar, looked at the clock and figured I only had twenty minutes to get to school. I grabbed my backpack, my basketball and locked the door behind me. Maybe I could catch my friend David.   

     David lives in a house, not in an apartment like me. I started bouncing my basketball. Usually that’s the signal that I’m waiting for him. I don’t dare knock because that would mean his sister might open the door. If she did, I don’t know what I’d do. She makes me nervous. I know I can make it to school in about ten minutes, so I’ll bounce the ball a couple more times.

     Krista, his sister, came out of the front door, and as I spun around to leave, I almost tripped over my own feet. She looked and shouted at me.

     “David is staying home today, Charlie; he’s sick.”

     Oh my God! She spoke to me. She knows my name? Standing in a daze, until she disappeared from sight, I finally shook it off after what seemed like a very long time. I might be late for school, but who cares? Krista knows my name.

     I skidded to a stop right beside my desk and slid into my seat just as the late bell rang. Miss Brever looked at me and then called me to her desk. Knowing what she wanted, I cut her off.

     “I didn’t get a chance to have her sign it, Miss Brever. My mom came home late and had to leave early this morning, but I’ll try to bring it tomorrow.” Instead of adding more nails to the coffin, she coldly told me to take my seat.

     She stood and directed the class, “Everyone please take out your reading book, Becoming the King, and hand it forward.” They all did as she asked and though I didn’t care, she felt the need to explain.

     “The school board has decided that this book is to be banned and has ordered a recall on them. Since we are only into the first chapter, there will be no credit for the pages read.”

     I knew it! Boy, did I luck out. I almost read for nothing. Reaching into my backpack, I realized that it must be on the floor next to my bed. Miss Brever asked me to collect the books. I set them on the edge of her desk. She thanked me and I quietly, but nervously, went back to my seat so I could keep my eyes on her. Is she going to count them? Somebody please distract her.

     Then it happened, YES! Jennifer raised her hand and Miss Brever looked in her direction.

     “What was wrong with reading that book, Miss Brever? I read up to chapter three and didn’t have a problem with any of the words.”

     Jennifer is always sucking up to Miss Brever.

     Miss Brever replied, “There seems to be some question as to the vulgar ideology of the author. It’s being decided whether the book will be banned permanently.”

     That Jennifer, she wasn’t really interested in what Miss Brever had to say. She was just sucking up, letting everyone know that she read three chapters. I wonder how often she got an A on an assignment for that? Hmmm. Looking at me again, Miss Brever called me to come up to the front.

     “Please, Charlie, get the books titled, Shane, from the closet. This will be the new reading material.”

     Suddenly it dawned on me that Miss Brever is gonna make me her workhorse until I do the after-school thing, or I bring my mom’s signature on that paper. Well, I can play this game. I’ll be your worker bee, Miss Brever. It’s nothing compared to dealing with my mom. Pass out the books? I can pass out the books. You bet your life I can definitely pass out the books. Counting out enough for each row, I made sure that everybody got one. We were now into the time of cowboy gunslingers. My friend in class said that his dad used to play Cowboys and Indians. I wondered what he meant by that.

     I don’t think that school could have been any longer than it was today. I know I got a lot of sleep yesterday, but I felt like I barely slept a wink last night. Then, class is so boring that it makes you want to take a nap. They ought to let kids sleep right after lunch, and then wake us about fifteen minutes before it’s time to go home.

     Finally, the school bell rang, and we were dismissed. It’s about time! Now that I’m wide awake, it’s time for the important stuff. I’ll head over to the park and get in a game of basketball. Then after that, I’ll go home. If my mom’s not there yet, I’ll grab the rest of the cookies. If she is there, I’ll do my homework (while I eat the cookies). Then somewhere, I’ll slip in the note and be done with it. In a way, I hope she’s not there. For now, it’s time to do some serious dribbling.

     I may not be the fastest guy on the basketball court, but I must say that I have the best outside corner shot anyone has ever seen. Someday I could be as great as Wylie D. Hooper, who used to live on my block and got drafted to the pros right out of high school. Just feed me the ball and stand back. I shot baskets for a while and around 5:00 I swung my backpack over my shoulders to head home. My sweaty t-shirt against my back, sent a chill up my spine. Brrrrr.

    Walking a few feet up the driveway of my apartment building, I noticed a big moving van with a couple of guys working to get a refrigerator up a flight of stairs.

    “Ready go, ready go, ready go,” they spoke in unison as they took the stairs one by one.

     Someone was finally moving into the apartment above me. That place has been empty for about a month. I wondered which one of these two guys was moving in. Oh well, I hear some cookies calling my name. I reached for my key and my pocket was empty. Oh no! Thinking for a moment, I knew exactly where it was… in the pants I wore yesterday. Why didn’t I wear those pants today? Shoot! I only wore them once this week.

     Flinging my backpack to the ground, I sat down on the front steps.

     One of the guys doing the moving stopped and turned, “Hey kid, want to earn five bucks?”

     Was I worried about getting into my apartment? Heck no. This guy was doling out the bucks.      

     “Sure,” I quickly replied, not even interested in asking how. I got up from the doorstep and followed him to the back of the moving van.

     “See all those boxes? Think you can carry them into the apartment?” I looked at him and then at the boxes. Five bucks? … piece of cake.

     He introduced himself as Nickel and I told him my name. We shook hands and he looked at me for a moment.

     Then he asked, “Do you always shake hands like that?” Taking my hand, he grabbed it firmly and shook it. “This is how a man shakes hands, Charlie. It shows that there is some interest in who you are dealing with. A limp, rubber shake tells me a lot about you.”

     “Really, like what?” I asked. Then quickly I said, “How do you know that I wasn’t testing you? Maybe I wanted to see how you were gonna shake hands, to learn a lot about you?”

     Nickel looked at me, “Quick thinking” he smirked, and then we went to work on the boxes.

     Never in the five years of living in this building have I climbed up and down these stairs so many times, but I didn’t mind. I wanted to know what Nickel meant about the handshake. In the middle of the stairwell, I stopped and flat out asked, “What’s wrong with my handshake?”

    “Charlie, instead of me telling you what’s wrong, why don’t I tell you what a handshake is supposed to mean. Originally it was a show of strength and equality. Example, two men would meet on the battlefield and show with their open hands that they had no weapons, and they were equal. The handshake would be firm to show strength and confidence. Now let me ask you, Charlie, what would a weak handshake mean to an opponent?” Nickel continued up the stairs leaving me to figure it out.

    The three of us unloaded the van in 15 minutes and I was $5.00 richer. It was just then that my mom drove up and couldn’t park because the van was in her way. She honked the horn repeatedly until Nickel came down to move. I could tell she was mad because that’s the only time she ever honked the horn. Nickel tried to politely apologize for being in the way, but she wouldn’t listen as she hurried inside. I stood there and looked at him as he looked at me. I shrugged my shoulders to let him know that I didn’t know what was going on. Just before going inside, I stood still, thinking… I’m about to hear a song.

     Yikes! Sure enough, my mom was sitting at the piano. She began to play. Maybe this isn’t the time to give her the paper from school. I thought quietly to myself, maybe I can pass out more books. When my grandma died a few years ago, she left the piano to my mom. This piano spoke to me. Whenever my mom was playing, it would tell me to go somewhere, anywhere, just go. I would quietly disappear, usually to my room. I knew better than to disturb my mom when she would come home and go right to the piano. I think she used it to somehow calm down. Whoever said, “Music calms the savage beast,” must have known my mom.

     Nerf basketball is probably the best sport you can play in the house. I made a three-point shot from across the room. It sank in after bouncing off the rim, not once hitting the backboard. The ball rolled back to me and stopped right next to the book beside my bed. Hmmm, other than the fact that it’s a book, I wonder why the school doesn’t want us to read it. I tossed it on my bed and played a little more basketball. Usually, I have to make ten free throws in a row before I’ll stop. It’s not that difficult because I am pretty good, if I may say so. I shot the first five free throws from the edge of my bed, and of course, no backboard… swoosh!

     Something changed. I stood very still for a moment and realized that the music in the background was missing. Motionless, I could feel the hard, pounding footsteps coming down the hall. Quickly dropping the ball, I jumped on my bed, grabbed the book and opened it as though I was reading. The door forcefully swung open.

     “What are you doing, Charlie?” she asked.

     “Oh, I’m just reading this book for homework,” I said in a soft voice. Asking, “Are you angry about something?”

     She told me that she had lost her job today because of a disagreement with a customer. Then she told me that we would need to cut back on expenses until she can find a new job, but that I shouldn’t worry and that everything will be all right. I knew something bad had happened. That piano is my friend… it really does speak to me.

    Just when I think I’m in the clear, she does the unexpected. She asks me to read to her. In my mind I’m like, What? and she says it again, “Read to me, Charlie.” Oh man! I opened the book to the first page and began to read. All the while, she sits on the edge of the bed with her head perched in a way so she’s looking right at me.

     “Let me start from the beginning,” I tell her, “so you know what’s going on and don’t get confused.”

    The light of a full blue moon fell upon the empire. Wind whispered its way along cobblestone streets lined with stone buildings. Other than a peasant staggering his way across the road and the rustling of leaves swirling from the breeze, all was silent. The castle, a robust, dominating structure made from roughly carved granite, imposed its presence. Flaming torches lined the battlements high in the castle walls. The wind embraced a high-pitched scream that tore from the queen, and delivered to all, the birth of a boy who from that moment began his journey of becoming the king.

    His name would be known throughout the kingdom as Prince Harold III. His life would be like no other child. Prince Harold would be raised in his father’s court. His parents would appoint his nurses, tutors and his chamberlain from the nobility in favor. Fleet of foot, agile of body, quick of mind, Prince Harold would prove himself time and again to be gifted beyond his age. Whether it was swords, horsemanship, or speaking two languages, English and Latin, the prince constantly challenged himself to be great.

    Though he did not yet know it, many who lived within the walls of the kingdom despised the prince for his lack of judgment and discretion. He would come to believe in his superiority as he tested himself against the advisors of his father. When Prince Harold was eight years old his lack of judgment and discretion made him feel morally superior with a privileged attitude to stand righteously above his father.

    The incident occurred while the queen had been away relaxing at their summer home. The young prince had witnessed his father escort a maid into his private quarters and shut the door. Young Prince Harold had derived the idea that his father was not behaving properly toward the queen. He decided to express his judgment about what he had witnessed, while in the presence of his father and a cardinal of the church. “You’re such the wise one, could there be any other explanation for these events?” King Harold asked calmly. Without incident or further discussion, the prince was led away, banished from his father’s company for three months. He was to be taught day after day the role & responsibilities of being a prince.

      I looked at my mother who appeared to be sleeping. When I didn’t continue to read, she opened her eyes and looked at me.

     “Why did you stop?” she asked.

     My reply was slow at first, “I don’t get it! How can this kid do all that stuff by the age of eight? He’s younger than me and I’m barely able to pass math. He’s got English and that Latin thing. What’s Latin anyway?” Oh, why did I ask that? Then it came.

     “Look it up,” Mom replied.

     You know what that means… more reading.

     I dug through to the bottom of my backpack to get my nearly new pocket dictionary that I’ve had for two years. There’s barely a scratch on the cover, I tell ya… I’m a professional! Looking up the word Latin, I found that it was the language spoken by the ancient inhabitants of Rome. Nope, I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to ask where Rome is and who lived there. All I needed to know was that they spoke Latin. Mom looked at me and smiled, then got up to leave my room. Waiting for her heavy footsteps to disappear, I threw the book on the bed and finished my free-throw game of basketball.

    Bored with the free-throws because they’re way too easy, I laid on my bed and turned on my little TV. Flipping the channels, I couldn’t find any cartoons because there was some big fire burning out of control and all the channels were covering it. I think they should have different channels for different things, like one channel for carjacking, a channel for fires, a channel for news and a channel for sports. A friend of mine says they have that already, but our building must not be set up for cable. Besides, my mom wouldn’t buy any pay channels anyway. She says it’s a waste of money to pay for TV. I wonder what those old Romans did for TV.

    Grabbing the Nerf ball and taking a dive shot, I landed on my bed as the ball rolled on the rim and in. I lay on my bed with nothing else to do, and my mom began playing again as I picked up the book. She never answered my question. How did that kid, Prince Harold, get to do all that stuff by the age of eight? He speaks two languages. Who does that and why? In my school there was a kid who spoke Spanish to his parents and English to everyone else, but he had to. I don’t think you can get a whole school to learn Spanish for one kid. I wonder if I could learn a language.

    “Let’s see what else this prince kid could do,” I muttered as I shuffled through the pages. He was probably president by the age of ten. I looked at the words on the page and all of a sudden there was a constant ringing in my head. The alarm clock next to my bed wouldn’t shut up. What! Huh! What the heck! 6:30! Geez! Wait a minute, I thought to myself. Looking across the room at the mirror, I saw that my hair was a mess.

   I heard my mom yell from down the hall, “It’s time to get up, Charlie.”

   Sitting as still as could be, all I could think was, This sucks! I didn’t have any dreams or anything. This happened yesterday, too. I always feel cheated out of sleep when I don’t have at least one dream that I can remember.

    I took a deep breath and started my day by digging through my dirty clothes. Where are those pants? I found the key and put it in my pocket. I looked in the mirror at what I was wearing. Heck, a wrinkle here, a wrinkle there… I’m too tired to change. I can wear the pants that I slept in, or didn’t really get to sleep in. I ran my fingers through my hair and thought, good enough. I headed to the kitchen where Mom had laid out a Pop-Tart and a sack lunch. How cute, she even put my name on the bag. I guess this is what she means by cutting corners. I get to take lunch instead of buying it at school. Hopefully, it’s peanut butter and jelly.

     Grabbing my pack, I headed out for school. Just outside the door, I saw Nickel, who was sweaty as could be, come running up the driveway.

     “Hello, Charlie,” he said with a big ol’ smile and panting breath.

     I replied hello and kept walking. How could anyone run so early in the morning? It’s almost 7:30. I shook off the thought and continued on my way. When I get home, I’m going straight to bed!

     About 10 minutes into class, Miss Brever divided us into groups of four for a new project. I looked across the desk at one of my partners and couldn’t help but think of how God was smiling on me. Cathy, good ol’ Cathy, she’s a control freak if ever there was one. She did a project last year with a friend of mine and everything had to go her way. He told me that he couldn’t do anything without her deciding what was right or wrong. He didn’t do one little thing and still got an A+. Have I got it made? Oh yeah!

     Also sitting across from me is Melvin Corbett, he’s a little slow in reaction time, but he always gets an A on his homework… all the time. When I jerked my head to the right, there sat Peter Hinkle. Oh man, he’s such a snob. He won the P.E. free-throw contest last year and still brags about it to this day. This year’s contest is in another two weeks and I’m going to put him in his place, which should be last. As for his homework and project ability, he’s right there with me, I think. So, thank you God, thank you, thank you, thank you, and once again, thank you!

     Miss Brever handed out a paper to each group in the room. It had directions for the project and Cathy was quick to take charge. Come on big A+. Whoohoo! Cathy began reading the assignment to us and all of a sudden, her mouth just seemed to go blah blah blah as I tuned her out. Though it looked like I was there physically, in my mind, I was trying to schedule some time to practice for the free-throw contest.

    Not that I need the practice, but I really want to beat ‘P-snob’ as I have just now nicknamed him. Corbett wouldn’t be in the contest because he isn’t very active in sports. One time when I had detention during lunch, he came into the classroom and started scribbling some math problem on the chalkboard. Man, what a loser…. Why would anyone waste a lunchtime on homework? What’s with that? Still, it’s good to have him in my group. Maybe we’ll get better than an A+.

      I yawned and felt tired; I could almost swear I heard my pillow calling me: “Charlieeeee.” I am so going straight to bed when I get home.

     When the group meeting ended, and just before going back to our original seats, I asked Cathy to remind me again what I was supposed to do. She ignored me and sat down. Oh well.

     “Please take out your reading books,” Miss Brever announced. Then she said, “When Charlie collected the book, Becoming the King, one of you didn’t turn in your copy. Whoever it is, please hand it in now, and if it’s not with you, then please bring it in tomorrow. Now, who wants to read first today?”

      Jennifer’s hand shot up like a rocket and I mimicked her words, “Miss Brever, I’d like to read.” Once again, I nailed it. I wonder if I could get a job as a mimic. As Jennifer began to read, the classroom windows seemed like they wanted me to gaze through them, which I did, willingly. I’m only a daydream away from anything I like. I wandered for a moment into the life of Prince Harold who was becoming the king.

    I saw myself dressed in those funky tights and robes that kings wear. I was in a dueling match of swords with a peasant kid who looked like P-snob. Our swords were clashing and banging as I backed him up to the edge of a cliff. Swiftly outmaneuvering my opponent, as an expert does, I rendered him sword-less. He stood there at my command. I made him howl like a dog and then purr like a cat. I made him roll over, sit up and beg. I had total control because I was the king.

     “Charlie! Charlie!”

     Oops! Miss Brever calling my name aloud, rendered me sword-less, kicked me out of my kingdom, had me on the edge of my seat… where I then came crashing into reality. Hmm, what’s this? Everyone is staring at me. I must be popular.

     “See me after class today, Charlie.” Those beady eyes stared at me for a moment too long before she called on someone else. I sunk lower into my seat but could still see out the windows.

     The final bell rang, and Miss Brever’s laser-beaming eyes demanded my attention.

     “Charlie, I still need to see you.”

     After gathering my things and shoving them into my backpack, I slowly walked to her desk. She pulled a chair next to her desk and told me to have a seat. Wearing my pack was kind of uncomfortable as I sat down, but not as uncomfortable as my rear would feel if I went home with a new note. Heck, I haven’t even given my mom the first one.

     “So, what’s happening with you, Charlie?” she asked.

     I just shook my head and stayed silent, shrugging my shoulders, letting them say, “I don’t know.”

     “Charlie, you haven’t been doing well on your assignments and it’s starting to worry me that you’re falling so far behind. I catch you daydreaming constantly and you’re leaving me with only one option. I’ll have to send you to the school psychologist. He’ll have to test you for your attention level.”

     I sat there in silence. Miss B was just looking at me. I didn’t know what to say. Then she changed subjects.

     “Did you bring in the signed note, Charlie?”

     I told her that I hadn’t got it signed yet because my mom had been really busy. I promised to bring it in tomorrow.

     Looking at me for a moment she just shook her head. “What excites you, Charlie?”

     I stayed silent. I couldn’t even tell her how much I loved playing basketball. How I hate to read and write. I just like sports… playing. That’s all I really want to do.

     Looking beadily at me, “You know, Charlie, I caught you plagiarizing a story, but you’ve actually written some very interesting stories of your own. I like your stories and I look forward to reading them. When it comes to storytelling, you have a lot of talent. Charlie, I wish you would explore your abilities and learn how to capitalize on them in the real world.” She asked me if I understood, and I just nodded. She told me to come to class tomorrow with a new outlook, a mind that wants to explore and learn. I nodded okay, stood up and asked to be excused.

      My pillow was calling but I had too much on my mind to even consider sleeping. I stopped by the park and watched some kids play basketball. A few minutes later, I was on my way home. You know something’s wrong when I, Charlie Marks, don’t get involved in a game of basketball. I opened the front door and heard my mom playing the piano. Instantly, I was reminded that she didn’t have a job.

     Usually, I don’t see her until around 4:00 for dinner, and then she goes to work for a few more hours to serve what they call the dinner crowd. She stopped playing for a minute. I dropped my pack and went to sit beside her at the piano. I didn’t want to do it, ‘cause there was so much going on with her, but I had to talk about the note. I started off with a line I’ve used before, actually more than once, even twice.

     “Don’t get mad, but I have to give you something from school.”

     She continued playing and told me to get it.

     Slowly, I worked my way through the layers of my backpack and dug out the paper with the note attached to the F. The paper was big-time wrinkled and getting ruined from being at the bottom of the pack. Gee, books really do make good paperweights. Unfolding it, I set it in front of her as she played. I explained what I had done and what I’d have to do for a week after school.

     She asked if I learned a lesson from this. I couldn’t look at her but nodded yes. I knew what was next:

     “Explain to me what you learned, Charlie.”

     When I began to explain, the music seemed to take on a dramatic tone. It was almost as though I were the main actor in some thriller. I told her how it was wrong to put off the assignment until there was nothing else to do except copy someone else’s stuff. I admitted that I was very wrong for doing it and promised I would never do it again.

     She stopped playing. There was a brief silence before she looked at me.

     “Charlie, my job is to make sure you are taken care of. I make sure that you have a roof over your head, clothes on your back and food in your stomach. Your job is to do well in school. That’s all you have to focus on Charlie… doing well in school. That’s not a lot to ask. Other than a few chores around here, again, your main job is school. Do you understand?”

     I nodded yes and walked away to my room as she continued to play.

     I guess she’s kind of right. I’ve never really been hungry. I do love my pillow. And even though I don’t own a pair of Wylie D. Hooper’s signature flight shoes, I’m still covered in warm clothing. It’s not like I’m walking the school hall in my underwear, which, by the way, is every kid’s worst nightmare. My friend Jack, his dad told him that if he caught Jack wearing his pants down around his butt like the gangsters do, then he was going to see to it that Jack wore only his underwear to school. Jack wears his pants like me and I for one can’t figure out how wearing pants halfway down your butt makes you cool.

     I went to lay on my bed, and I swear if I fall asleep this time without having a good dream, I’m never going to sleep again as long as I live. Slipping under my covers, I kicked something hard at the foot of my bed. I bet it’s the book. I reached down to grab it. Now, how did it get so far down there? Oh well. I found the page where I had left off and I began to read.

    The young prince was banished from his father’s company for three months and taught day after day the role and responsibilities of being a prince.

    When the young prince was summoned to his father’s royal chamber, he entered and remained silent. The king, observing young Prince Harold’s tightened brow, offered a bit of advice. “Many men will hate me for my path of choice, as they will hate you for yours when you are a king. When you choose to follow their path, they will hate you even more. They’ll see you as weak and easy to manipulate. They will despise you. Unless you set the path, our people won’t have a leader, and, without a leader, there is anarchy.” The king paused a moment, then asked, “What lessons have you learned while you were away?” The prince stood with his chest out, shoulders back, boldly looking into his father’s eyes. The prince’s brows were scrunched tightly. He answered directly, cockily. “I have learned to follow my leader until the day that I take the throne and lead.” Then with a very sharp tongue Prince Harold asked, “So, Father, when will you be leaving?”

    King Harold’s eyes lit with fire, then almost as instantly his anger was replaced by a sharp rational reply, “No sooner than you.” King Harold called out to have the prince removed. Having a second thought, he called the young prince back to the royal chambers. Both with a furrowed brow, King Harold spoke very directly, using a low monotone voice. “Hear my words very clearly, Son. I am not your enemy. You’ll have plenty of these. I am not only your father, but your mentor as well. I will ensure your place, the throne, in due time. At this juncture, your level of confidence is to be admired. Admired, but not mistaken as intelligence or wisdom. It takes more than confidence to run a country. You are gifted my son, things appear to come easily to you, though, in reality, you’re still only eight years old. You haven’t enough experience.”

    With a new line of thought, King Harold continued. “You’re angry with me. Why? I do not know. You should know my conscience is content with the life that I live. Any feeling you have regarding me should be spoken so the air between us is clear.”

    The prince looked at his father and hesitated then replied, “I will answer you during our meal. I will first consider in-depth all that you have said.” He turned and left the chamber. The prince’s aid looking to the king, asking, “What shall I do, sire?” The king responded, “Nothing. He is becoming a king. He made a decision to think about this matter and to respond at a proper time– exactly what a man should do.” The king sat down and smiled, believing that he had communicated his thoughts successfully to his son.

    Later that evening during a private meal with his parents, young Prince Harold sat quietly. King Harold waited patiently for his young boy to speak. The prince finished his meal, cleared his throat and stood. “Father, I have a response to our discussion earlier this afternoon. You want me to become a man, to become the king– in due time. I have considered the task at hand and now think of it as a journey. I will be…

The Prince, as well as Charlie, has much to say and many lessons to learn. This story will help any child realize their potential once they find their voice. Click here to purchase Becoming the King Pt 1.