Fangboy

“Smother it.”

“No!”

“Samuel, that child will cause you nothing but misery. Look at the way my hand is shaking. Have you ever known my hand to shake?”

“No, but—”

“That boy is evil.”

“He’s not evil.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“He’s done nothing evil. Believe me, I understand how you’re feeling. I’d thought about taking a shovel to him myself. But regardless of his appearance, he is our child, and we love him, and you’re going to have to respect that.”

Martin stepped toward the bedroom. “Perhaps I should take a look.”

“Don’t you dare!” said Helena. “I won’t have you haunted as I am!” She gulped down the rest of the water then looked at Samuel with pleading eyes. “Get rid of it. If you won’t kill it, put it up for adoption. Don’t taint the family name with that monstrosity. You’re young. There will be other babies. If you got started now you could have one before next summer. Please. You must understand that the baby in my daughter’s arms was not meant to exist.”

Samuel cleared his throat as he worked up his courage. “Helena, you are no longer welcome in our home.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You don’t have to love your grandson, or even not be afraid of him, but you do have to understand that he is our son. When you decide to respect that, we’d love to have you as a houseguest, but until that time, I would like to request that you get the hell out.”

Helena gave him a look of such intense rage that Samuel felt his resolve drain away like wax from a candle dangling over a volcano. “How dare you use the h-word when speaking to me? I’m trying to keep you and Ellen from ruining your lives!”

“Our lives will be fine,” Samuel said. “I need you to leave.”

“I’ll send people. I’ll send people to take him away.”

“If you do, I’ll kill you.”

Helena gaped at him. “Do you see what has happened? Just living with the child for these few days has made you insane! This is absolute madness!”

“Okay, I really need to see this kid for myself,” said Martin. He marched over to the door, knocked twice, and walked into the bedroom. Fifteen seconds later he emerged and returned to the living room. “Helena, I would like to leave now.”

Helena stood up. “Samuel, I beg of you—”

“I mean it,” said Samuel. “If you send anybody to take Nathan away, I will kill you. Not violently or painfully, but trust me when I say that you will at least be poisoned.”

“Very well. If you choose to throw your lives away on this creature, then the decision is yours. Do not expect support of any kind from me.”

She left the house without a word.

Martin had to make three trips to carry out the suitcases they’d brought in, so his exit was less dramatic, but soon he was gone as well. Ellen emerged from the bedroom as they drove off, holding sleeping Nathan in her arms, her face stained with tears.

“I’m sorry,” said Samuel. “I was not polite to your mother.”

Ellen sniffled, then gave her husband a sad smile. “It’s all right. We can do this on our own.”

* * *

Helena did not send anybody to take Nathan away. Upon further thought, Samuel had decided that he probably wouldn’t actually murder her if she did, but it was nice to not have to make a final decision on the matter.

Samuel and Ellen vowed to give their son a normal life, although they settled on giving him a normal life except for the almost complete lack of social interaction. Apart from Dr. Thompson’s regular visits, nobody ever saw the boy. When he got old enough to crawl, Samuel built a fence around their yard, where Nathan could happily scoot through the grass without the neighbors catching a glimpse of his teeth. Though it wasn’t ideal, it was better than locking him in a basement, and much better than having torch-wielding villagers surround their home.

It was with a great deal of relief that Samuel came to accept that Nathan’s teeth were the only odd thing about him. Otherwise, the boy was healthy, alert, and happy. He did bite his tongue on a couple of occasions, which caused the child to scream in agony, but nothing was ever severed. And though it took him longer to start forming words than the average toddler, that was only to be expected.

“It took me longer than average to start speaking, and that’s only because one of my eyes was crossed until I was six,” Samuel noted. “We can’t hold that against the boy.”

On his fourth birthday, Ellen and Samuel thought long and hard about how Nathan should receive his education. They knew that he had to be integrated into society at some point, but Ellen was reluctant.

“What if the other kids make fun of him?” she asked.

“They will,” said Samuel. “That’s a given. But I suspect that if he bites one of them, he won’t be made fun of multiple times.”

“He shouldn’t have to bite people to keep his dignity.”

“All kids get made fun of. He might as well have something genuinely weird about him; otherwise they’ll just make things up to ridicule.”

“What if he bites another student and the parents sue? Most children can barely break the skin, much less come away with a mouthful of flesh.”

“You’re right. We’ll make sure he’s aware that it’s wrong to bite.”

“I don’t know,” said Ellen. “I think it may be too much for him. Why can’t we wait until his baby teeth fall out? For all we know, his real teeth will grow in normally, and we’d have created all of that mental scarring for nothing.”

“What’s going to damage him more? Kids making fun of him for having sharp teeth, or spending his entire childhood alone with his parents?”

“Kids making fun of him.”

“I don’t think that’s correct.”

“I can’t do it,” Ellen said. “Kids are cruel. I can’t subject him to that. Maybe when he’s five.”

* * *

Nathan traced his finger along the words on the page. “…to the story.”

“To the store,” Ellen corrected.

Nathan frowned. “Why?”

“Because the ‘e’ is silent.”

Nathan gave her a that’s really stupid look. “Why can’t I ever go to the store?”

“We’ve already talked about this.”

“But why can’t I?”

“Because, sweetheart. People are mean.”

“You’re not mean.”

“I’m sorry, not everybody is mean, but some people are. You don’t want people to be mean to you, do you?”

“Why would they be mean to me?”

“You know.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“My teeth?”

Ellen nodded.

“I’m not scared of that.”