Zandar's Prize

Zandar’s Prize

By Katherine Taylor

Zandar, a rather homely seventeen year old boy, was spending his Saturday afternoon clothes shopping. Zandar had grown 3 inches over the summer break from school and Nina, his mother, was very disgruntled that she had to buy him all new pants, again. While at checkout, Zandar noticed a very peculiar little black, leather bound book sitting on the counter. The leather was very weathered, soft, and embossed with strange symbols on it. He was very drawn to the book, like it had a magnetic force pulling him closer to it. Zandar had never stolen anything in his life, but without hesitation, he quickly whisked the book off the counter while the febal store owner had his back turned.

His heart pounded loud and fast, he swore his mother was going to hear it in the car ride back to their quaint two bedroom home. He knew money was tight in their single income home. Zandar's father had not been around for nearly a decade and Nina refused to talk about him. Back at the house, Zandar fled to his room to put away his clothes and oggle his stolen prize. Oddly, the withered leather was warm to the touch. As he caressed the embossed markings, goosebumps tingled up his arm and neck. That intrigued him even more. Zandar had never been much of a writer, but he was still compelled to pick up his pen and open the book. With a loud “crack,” all the light bulbs in the house exploded, scattering tiny shards of glass. The pen Zandar was gripping shattered in his fingers, slicing his soft skin. Blood trickled into the unmarked yellowed paper.

He heard his mother in the kitchen cursing at the faulty electricity in the house. Zandar dropped the pen onto the open book as blood trickled down his hand. He reached for a handful of tissues from the box he kept on his nightstand to wrap around his now throbbing digits. Tossing the notebook to the floor, he ran out of his room to ask his mom for a couple bandages. Nina and Zandar then replaced the broken light bulbs and swept up the glass from around the house. They ate dinner together, making small talk about school, then Zandar retired back to his room.

In bed, Zandar reached down to pick up the black book and broken pen off the floor. The spattered drops of blood had disappeared into the pages. This time, when he opened the book, he discovered an inscription that he had not seen before.

• • •

"Owner’s beware. What is gifted, comes with a great price.”

• • •

Zandar, a bit confused by this, decided to write a few things down.

"My name is Zandar. I am not a popular kid. I am 17 and a nerd. I suck at sports, all sports.. If I could learn how to be better in gym class, the other kids in my class wouldn’t tease me anymore and my mom wouldn't have to write me notes to my teacher to excuse me from class, using my asthma as an excuse.”

Tossing the book under his bed, he closed his eyes. Zandar had a very restless sleep, full of vivid dreams of shadowy figures with glowing eyes that caused a fatal car accident. When Zandar awoke, he was soaked in sweat. His muscles ached. He hit his head on the doorway while walking into the kitchen. Holding his emerging goose egg, he sat down for breakfast.

"But how? Overnight? Seriously? How the hell did you grow so much in one night?” his mom stammered. “How am I supposed to buy more clothes? We must return yesterday's stuff and get you some larger sizes! Get your ass moving”

Zandar got up to look in the mirror, tripping over his suddenly larger feet. The dirty mirror on the back of the closet sized washroom revealed a much less lanky, awkward teen. Zandar had developed a muscular physique and a strong jawline overnight.

"Seriously Mom! That's not how I want to spend my Sunday!" Zandar’s voice had even deeped.

When Zandar and his mom were getting into the car, he heard a shout.

"Heads up!"

Zandar looked up quickly and caught a softball just before it would have smashed into the car window.

"Throw it back," a kid yelled from the park across the street. Winding his arm back, Zandar threw the ball back with such force, the kid who couldn't have been more than 8 years old, fell backwards when he caught the ball.

"Where did you learn how to throw like that?" Nina looked quisiquely at Zandar.

Zandar shrugged his shoulders. They went about their monotonous day. Back at the store, the owner remembered the two. He gave Zandar a smirk and raised his bushy, grey eyebrows.

"So, you did take the damn book you little thief. I must thank you. That thing has been plaguing me for far too long. It has caused nothing but devastation. It's yours now. It is not something you can just give away. I must willingly be received by a new owner. Congratulations boy, you are now its new owner. Now, get out of my store!”

His mom was out of earshot when the old sour smelling man made his remarks to Zandar. After exchanging his clothes, Zandar and his mom went grocery shopping, as they always do Sundays. Back at the house, Zandar wandered over to where he saw some classmates playing basketball in the park. For the first time in Zandar's life, he had the desire to play basketball. He approached them silently, full of confidence. Grabbed the ball, he effortlessly sunk it into the basket. Stunned, the teens let Zandar play, they needed one more player anyways. He played exceptionally well, in fact, he helped his team win.

"Good game man, why don't you play like that in class?" one of the tallest boys questioned.

"I never knew how to till today,” Zandar replied back.

"Well, you should come to basket­ball tryouts tomorrow. Can't hurt to try. My buddy Matt is head of the basketball team, he's in grade 12, he will like your skills!"

"Okay, I guess I will see you after class tomorrow," Zandar hesitantly agreed.

That night, Zandar felt fantastic about making new friends. Toying with thoughts that the book contributed to his newly found talents, he decided to pick it up again. He began doodling images of cars onto the blank pages. Each drawing became better than the last. While sketching, he wished he owned a car. It would give him so much freedom. He has had his license for nearly a year, yet he rarely gets to drive. He drifted to sleep, still clutching the book.

When school was out Monday afternoon, Zandar decided to take up his classmate’s invitation to the tryouts. When he entered the gym, kids were whispering and huddled into small groups. Zandar couldn't make out what anyone was saying. He approached some students he knew.

"Matt was in an accident Saturday night. He was hit by a car on the way home from a friend's place. Doctors are saying he will never play sports again, let alone walk. He goes in for surgery tonight.”

Zandar got an uneasy feeling inside him. Was it pure coincidence that suddenly Zandar became athletic and handsome overnight, while Matt lost all those looks and talents that got him his college scholarships and girls? Basketball tryouts were cancelled so Zandar headed home. When Zandar turned to head down his street, he saw a police cruiser in his driveway. Worried, he ran the rest of the way home. Zandar barged through the door.

"Mom, is everything ok?"

Two officers were standing beside a tall man with an unkempt goatee.

“Zandar, I have some terrible news for you.” He took his hat off. “I am so sorry to tell you, your mother was found earlier today, deceased. I can not disclose any further information at this time as we are investigating. I have contacted your father, who was listed in your mother's medical records. Your father got here as soon as he could for you. He will go over what is going to happen next for you. I expect you two need some time to take in this tragic news.” The cop put his hat back on and left.

“Lucky for you kid, I was just passing through town when this all happened. Now, first thing's first. Your mother had a life insurance policy. I've already looked into it, she has removed me as the beneficiary to her policy, but has put you down as her sole beneficiary. Unfortunately for you, you are not a legal adult yet and can not access the money till you are 18. Fortunately for me, I am your father and have access to all the money held in trust until you turn 18. After paying for her funeral, I think it's fair to split that insurance policy fifty-fifty with me. Consider it payment for me having to raise you for the next year until you are 18. We both are going to walk away with $20,000 cash. And, if you think you can refuse to give me my money, I will strangle you, just like I did your mother. Oh, by the way, you can keep her junk car, for every Birthday that I have missed.I have my own wheels.

Zandar’s head was spinning. “This is not happening!” He ran to his bedroom and slammed the door. He had to collect his thoughts. Immediately, his eyes were fixated on the ominous black notebook. His life, though far from perfect, was better before the book came into it. He rummaged through his closet to find some gift wrap paper. With shaking hands, he sloppily wrapped up the book and left his bedroom through his window to avoid his estranged father.

Zandar ran for what seemed like miles. Abruptly, he stopped when he saw a girl about 6 years old, skipping alone on the sidewalk.

“You are just the person I am looking for. I have a special gift for you. It's from someone very important, but I am not allowed to tell you who. All I am allowed to say is that it is very magical and you must protect it,” Zandar tried to convince the girl to accept the book. “You have to promise to keep it safe if I give it to you.”

“I am strong, look at my muscles,” the girl flexed her tiny biceps. “I can protect anything.” The girl took the book and ran.

Zandar felt awful for giving the book to such a young child, but what harm could come from such an innocent.