Be My Monster

Prologue

Past

“This is not a typical situation, Tenny. His parents clearly know people and have the money to make this happen so easily for them.”

“I don’t understand, sir. Why would they put their five-year-old son up for adoption? Has he done something? Have they?”

I sat on the bed, my back to them as I stared out the window. My focus was on the pond across the way and the group of ducklings swimming in circles around their parents. Did they love their ducklings?

“The file I was given says very little, Tenny. It does say he isn’t dangerous, just…different. They couldn’t deal with him.” That last part was said under the older man’s breath.

I’d glanced at the two adults as they’d come in. One was older like my grandpa before he died. The other was a real pretty Black lady with braids and a friendly expression. She was older than Mommy but not by much.

“And you want me to talk with him?”

“Please, Tenny. You have a way about you.”

She sighed. I was used to that sound—Mommy and Daddy did that anytime I did something I wasn’t supposed to do.

Footsteps approached, and I dropped my gaze to the floor. A pair of Mary Janes came into view, but I didn’t look up.

“Hey there, Mitchell. My name is Tennessee. It’s real nice to meet you.” She held out her hand. Daddy always said that was a polite way to greet people, so I took her hand and shook it.

“May I sit down?” She motioned to the spot beside me, and I shrugged. I didn’t care.

She was quiet for a bit, and then she finally spoke. “This feels like an unfair situation, doesn’t it, Mitchell?”

Slowly, I turned my head to peer up at her. Honey-brown eyes glimmered, and a small smile played on light-pink painted lips.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I bet you’re feeling all sorts of ways, am I right?” I nodded and she hummed. “I have no doubt about that. I can’t imagine all that’s buzzing around that head of yours, but you know what, Mitchell?”

“What?”

“I’d like to find out. I know you don’t believe this, or me, and likely all trust for everything has been thrown out the window, but I want you to know I’m here for you, and I’ll wait as long as I have to for you to believe me.”

I didn’t believe her. I didn’t believe anyone. Mommy and Daddy would tell me they loved me; then I’d hear them tell people I was a monster, a freak. I didn’t understand why. I was sure Tennessee would find out soon enough.

I looked out the window once again. The ducks were gone, and even though Tennessee sat beside me, I felt alone.

“Go on now. Lift your shirt and let me see your back—you know the routine.” Tennessee spun me, forcing me to laugh. I lifted my shirt as she’d ordered, and she hummed. “Good, good. Okay, go wash those filthy hands and help me snap these green beans.”

“Okay, Tenny.” I rushed up the stairs. I’d lived at Sunshine House for five years, and in all that time Tennessee had been right beside me.

She was determined to get inside my head, and she asked a lot of questions.

I didn’t know why my parents stopped loving me or why they thought I was a monster.

It had taken time for her to break the mold with me, but eventually she did, and she’d always reiterated to me that I wasn’t a monster but that I was special.

She never gave up on me and dragged me to more doctors than I’d ever cared to see again. It wasn’t until I was eight years old that we’d gotten some answers about why I was so weird.

“He has a gene mutation called FAAH-OUT. It’s extremely rare and was quite hard to determine” a doctor had diagnosed, and immediately I’d thought I was one of the X-Men, and how cool was that?

Then came the serious talk. We’d gotten back to Sunshine House, and Tennessee told me to join her at the kitchen table.

“I didn’t really notice it all before. I knew there was something unique about you, Mitchell.

You don’t get scared about anything. Thunder, loud noises—heck, that bonfire last summer got crazy, and you didn’t even flinch.

Last year you fell from that tree house, broke your arm.

You didn’t cry, promised it didn’t hurt.

You even healed faster than the doctor thought you would. Now I understand why.”

Apparently, this gene mutation allowed me to feel virtually no pain, and no fear, and I healed faster than others. This mutation was so rare that there were only a few cases worldwide…like seriously, only a few.

Tennessee explained things that I should be wary of—like fire, things that could potentially harm me. And because I felt no pain, she made sure I checked myself over every day, twice a day, and any time I did something that could hurt me.

She told me all the time that I wasn’t a monster or a freak. Mostly, I believed her. But the kids in school thought I was weird. I guess my mutation showed or something, I dunno.

I was sitting at the table, helping Tennessee with dinner, when I got up the nerve to ask her a question that had been poking around my brain.

“Hey, Tenny?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Remember that time you told me all the people in your family were named after states?”

She smiled. “I did say something like that. Not everyone, though. My brothers Dakota and Montana, yes, and then me, Tennessee. All because my daddy’s name was Washington. But my mama, her name was Charlotte.”

“I like that. Um…I was wondering…if it’s okay with you, and if you say no, I understand.”

She dropped her green beans onto the towel and took my hand. “Whatever it is, Mitchell, you go on and say it. You know there’s nothing you can’t ask me.”

“Ok, maybe once I’m eighteen, and I’m an adult, I can change my name.”

She cocked her head. “You want to get rid of your name, Mitchell?”

I nodded. “My parents named me that, and they didn’t want me. I hate hearing my name.”

She pursed her lips and smirked. “What name were you thinkin’?”

She wasn’t saying no yet, but as soon as she heard the name and why, would she reject it, not wanting me to be part of her family traditions?

“I was thinking Pennsylvania? Penn for short, like people call you Tenny.”

“You want to…” She covered her mouth with her hand and I braced for rejection, but it didn’t come. A single tear fell down her cheek. “Why do you want that name, dear boy?”

I took a deep breath. “I want to be your family, Tenny, and it makes me feel like I am every time I think of my name as Pennsylvania.”

She wiped her cheek and beamed. “When you turn eighteen, if you still feel that way, I’ll help you change your name. I’d be honored…Penn.”

She never called me Mitchell again. Only Penn—or if I was in trouble, Pennsylvania. And two days after my eighteenth birthday, she kept her word. Soon enough, Mitchell was officially dead and Pennsylvania was born.