Difference of Opinion
You're not going to find me.
Eight-year-old Ben quietly crept down the corridor on the second storey, peeking into the rooms, looking for any potential hiding places. Unfortunately for the little boy, there were not any.
He jumped and gasped as his mother called again from downstairs. Instinctively, he turned back and his legs began carrying him towards the stairs, but he forced them to stop mid-step. Superheroes did not bow surrender to authority, and neither would Ben, who might have been watching a few too many movies.
Good will prevail over evil! Ben was not sure about the exact meaning of 'prevail', but it sounded much better in the sentence than 'win'. It could not be wrong, because all the good guys said it.
He had gone as far as disobeying his parents already. There was no way he could stop now. Otherwise, all the effort he had put into getting this far would all be wasted, and Ben was a thoughtful child. He knew that it was not right for anything to be wasted, because his parents had often told him so.
I'm not going to do as you say!
Despite his feet's protests, he forced them to go in the opposite direction, back along the corridor. As he passed the first room again, he could not resist the urge to peer in again, even though time would be wasted. Maybe he had not looked carefully enough the first time.
No, no hiding place here, he thought disappointedly as he scanned the room.
He jumped again. However, this time, it was not as much the voice of his mother that shocked him, but the closeness of it. It did not sound like she was in the kitchen any more. Quickly, he moved on, scrutinising every detail of the next room.
I need a hiding place!
Slow creaks of the stairs and approaching footsteps told Ben that he did not have much time. As the long shadow fell onto the corridor, he rushed into the room, slamming the door behind him. Now, he had no choice but to hide somewhere in the room. He could not hide under the bed, because he had grown too big for that. Under the writing table looked like a good option, but with all the cables and wires – no. His parents had told him that little children should not play with electricity.
He spun around desperately. The footsteps were getting louder. He could almost feel the vibrations on the floor with each step. Then, they stopped, and he let out a long sigh of relief, until he saw his mother's feet through the gap under the door.
I need to hide...
A squeak from the door told him his mother was depressing the handle. She would be in there any moment.
Suddenly, Ben spotted the wardrobe. He threw open the doors, pushed aside the clothes and leapt in, managing to just close the doors as he heard the bedroom door swing open. He sat in there, arms around his knees, breathing heavily.
After a few tense moments, he relaxed slightly. Maybe things were going to be fine after all.
Yes! I've done it!
Ben listened hard for any signs of movement in the bedroom, but he heard none. Deciding it should be safe to go out, he spread his hands over the cool wood, ready to push them open and burst out. Superheroes tended to do that, amongst the other flashy entrances and exits.
"Ben, I know you're in the wardrobe."
Immediately, he retracted his arms, blinking in surprise.
No she doesn't.
"Are you going to come out yourself, or will I have to drag you out?"
Although he had big hopes for himself, he knew that everything was useless now. His mother knew he was in the wardrobe, and he disliked her tone.
"I'm not coming out." In his mind, Ben could hear all his friends cheering him on.
"I don't have to listen to you," he said defiantly.
"What's with you today?"
"You'll make me do things I don't want to do."
"Is anything wrong?" Although her volume was the same, his mother's tone softened. "What can I make you do that's that bad? It's only dinner, Ben."
"You're going to make me eat Brussels sprouts."
His mother laughed loudly, reminding Ben of the countless times he had seen the bad guys lock up the heroes and boast about it.
"Is that it?" she asked, after recovering.
"They taste horrible!" he cried in protest.
"How can you possibly know what they taste like when you've never eaten them?"
"My friends all say so!"
Another moment of silence passed. Then, his mother, sighing in defeat, said, "Well, if you come out, I won't make you eat them."
A little unwillingly, he pushed the doors open, and his mother helped him out of the wardrobe. She took his hand, and forgetting about his earlier determination to not listen to her, Ben allowed himself to be led downstairs, to the dining room.
On his plate, which his mother pushed towards him, he saw some of his favourite food, including potatoes, peas, and a drumstick. However, on the side, there was also a small pile of round, green vegetables which he had never seen before.
"What are they?" he asked his mother, poking them with his fork.
She smiled back, replying, "They're not what you think they are."
Happily, he ate one leaf.
"They're nice, mum. What are they called?"
"Brussels sprouts," she answered, grinning widely.
"But…but you said—"
"I said that they weren't what you thought they were, which was true, because you thought they tasted bad. You now know that that isn't the case."
"My friends said that they tasted bad!"
"That's what your friends think. It's not what you think."
The explanation was not quite enough for Ben, but he would settle for it for the while. The Brussels sprouts were beckoning.
A/N: Firstly, credits to Dictionary dot com for the example of the usage of the word hide - 'He hid in the closet.'
This was work done for school - 1000 words, on the topic 'Into Hiding'.
Excuse the lame title. Even better - any suggestions?
Hopefully you enjoyed it. And please review.
Have a nice day.