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Chapter Three: How Do You Solve a Problem Like Alonzo?

Alonzo became a fixed part of the Dawsen household. He was given a cot to sleep on, despite Catriona's protestations that he did not sleep. He was always invited to join in on conversations, Catriona acting as his translator. Mr. Dawsen and Kay were the most enthusiastic about interacting with him. They always offered him food during meals, made sure there was space for him on the couch when they watched a movie, and made him join in on Family Game Night.

Ailie tried to ignore him. She wouldn't go out of her way to ruin her family's fun by sitting in a seat reserved for Alonzo, or eating his snacks. She did not ever directly address him the way the rest of the family did, however. Catriona didn't seem offended though so no one ever scolded Ailie for it.

Mrs. Dawsen joined in on incorporating Alonzo into their daily activities, but there was a certain cautious air she emitted whenever he was around. She began doing more one-on-one things with Catriona and questioning her about Alonzo.

"When did you meet Alonzo?" Mrs. Dawsen asked casually as she braided Catriona's hair.

"In the winter." Catriona winced as her mother pulled a piece of her hair back tightly. "He's sorry about smelling up the house."

Mrs. Dawsen finished the braid in silence.

"What do you and Alonzo do?" Mrs. Dawsen asked when she took Catriona biking down the dirt road they lived on.

"He's teaching me stuff." Catriona shrugged.

"Anything specific?" Mrs. Dawsen pressed.

"Stuff about what I can do."

Mrs. Dawsen didn't need any further clarification.

Two months later, Mrs. Dawsen came home from work to find Catriona in the middle of the kitchen, holding a lit match against her hand.

"Riona, you put that match out right now!" Mrs. Dawsen marched over to her daughter, grabbed her wrist, and forced her to dunk the match into a nearby glass of water. "What were you thinking?"

"Don't worry, Mommy," Catriona replied in a tiresome voice, "I can't hurt myself."

"It doesn't mean you should try to set yourself on fire!" Mrs. Dawsen's voice raised to an impressively high pitch. "My god, Catriona!"

Catriona turned her attention to something behind her mother. "Tell her," she ordered.

Mrs. Dawsen looked over her shoulder. There was nothing there but the sink.

"Tell her!" Catriona repeated more urgently.

Mrs. Dawsen shook her head and looked back at her daughter. "You're grounded."

"But Mommy-"

"Up to your room!"

Catriona stamped her foot and then raced up the stairs shouting, "Thanks for nothing, you coward!"

Mrs. Dawsen dropped into a chair at the kitchen table. She lolled her head back as a memory floated to the forefront of her mind.

"But...but she broke her leg," Mrs. Dawsen insisted.

"I know it's hard to understand," Dr. Thoms said patiently,"but her leg has healed itself."

Mrs. Dawsen stared at him in frustrated incredulity. "She broke. Her. Leg."

"I wouldn't believe it either if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

Mr. and Mrs. Dawsen knew exactly what he'd seen, for they'd seen it themselves many times before; a cut on the finger, a scrape on the knee, a banged elbow...no bruises formed and no wound remained on Catriona's skin for very long. One minute they were there, the next minute her skin sealed itself back together. Not a break though. There was no way...

"How is that possible?" Mr. Dawsen demanded.

"I don't know," Dr. Larson admitted. "But that's why I would like to do a series of tests-"

"No," Mrs. Dawsen said abruptly.

"But-"

"She's five years old," Mr. Dawsen added in a dangerous voice.

"No, you're not doing anything to her. We're taking her home."

Dr. Larson's face reddened."You can't."

Mrs. Dawsen crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow."Why not? She's healed, right?"

"Yes-"

"Then we are leaving right now."

"And we did leave," she muttered to herself. "Moved three states over to get away." She ran a hand through her hair. Her work attire was beginning to feel scratchy and as though it were suffocating her skin. Her eyes came to rest upon the sink.

"Are you...here?" she asked tentatively.

There was no response.

Mrs. Dawsen sighed, "Well, if you are...just..."

The front door opened and closed. Her husband's footsteps thumped heavily toward the living room.

"Tom?" she called out. "Where are Ailie and Kay?"

"There you are," he said as he entered the kitchen. "Kay's outside with Linus, and Ailie is up in her room being an angsty pre-teen."

She nodded. "Do you know what Catriona was just doing?"

Mr. Dawsen looked closely at his wife's expression. "I'm not sure I want to know."

"Playing with matches."

"What?"

"Trying to burn herself."

"What?"

"I think Alonzo had something to do with it. She kept saying, 'Tell her! Tell her!' to some invisible person behind me."

Mr. Dawsen shook his head in disbelief.

"Tom, we have to do something about this. About Alonzo."

Mr. Dawsen leaned against the stove. The couple stared at each other for a while, as if they had begun communicating telepathically. Ailie soon came shuffling in, the headphones she wore around her neck blasting some upbeat pop song. She was holding out her arm, a deep cut forming a bright red line on her pale skin. Her eyes were shining with tears.

"What happened?" Mrs. Dawsen gasped and stood up. She rushed over to one of the cabinets and pulled out a first aid kit.

"I was d-dancing an-nd I hit my a-arm on m-my desk." Ailie sniffled and bit her trembling lower lip. Mr. Dawsen ushered her over to the sink and began washing the blood off with a wet paper towel.

"I told you to be careful." Mrs. Dawsen handed a large band-aid to her husband. "You have your father's coordination."

Ailie and her father gave Mrs. Dawsen the same frown. Mrs. Dawsen stuck her tongue out at them and leaned against the countertop. "Aside from your evil furniture, how was your day?"

Ailie turned toward the sink and washed her hands. "I got an A on my Language Arts quiz."

"That's awesome, sweetie!"

She threw a grin over her shoulder at her mother. "Also...Theresa asked me to sleepover at her house on Friday. Can I?"

Mrs. Dawsen's brow furrowed. "Who's Theresa?"

Ailie's grin vanished as she sighed. "The new girl from Michigan. I got paired up with her for our Math project and she's in Band with me."

"You never mentioned her."

"Mom, I've been talking about her for at least three weeks."

Mrs. Dawsen pursed her lips. "I want to talk with her mother first."

"Mom, come on! I'm in sixth grade!"

"You're not going anywhere with her until I've spoken with her parents." Mrs. Dawsen crossed her arms.

Ailie narrowed her eyes, spun on her heel, and made her way to the staircase. She stomped all the way up, making certain to slam her door as hard as possible once she got to her room.

"She also made it into the Talent Show." Mr. Dawsen sat down at the table beside his wife.

Mrs. Dawsen's brows knitted together. "When did she audition for that?"

"Last week. She was really nervous about it, remember? She threw her piano book at Riona for talking to Alonzo too loudly while she was practicing."

"Oh, right." Mrs. Dawsen nodded absently. "Alonzo-"

That was when the scream came.