A/N: I am so sorry this took me forever! I ran into some writers block, and then I had leaving my job, packing and moving into college, my birthday, and it just did not work out to where I had writing time. But, I got this chapter up! Updates will probably pretty slow from now on (least until christmas!) but I will still be trying my best! Thank you guys so much for your patience and I hope you liked young Nahman, because I think he'll be gone after this chapter! Reviews make me a very happy person, and I will send you cookies :)

CHAPTER THREE: Growing Up

In Greek mythology, it is thought that when a person dies, they must pay a toll to the boatman, Charon, to get them across the river Styxs. After the crossing, they had to appease a three-headed dog, Chereberus, before either being sent to a beautiful, sunny, green place called the Elysian Fields, where they could rest in peace, or being punished for all eternity. A story tells of a man, Tantalus, who was the son of the god Zeus. He was a mortal king, yet he was still invited to the Gods' table to dine and listen to the words passed between the immortals. But his vain human spirit could not bear the exquisite burden of unearthly bliss, and he begun to sin against the Gods in a number of ways. He spread their secrets, stole from them, lied to them. He even went so far as to test the Gods, serving his own son up for dinner to see if they really knew all things. The Gods, angered by his endless arrogance, thrust him down to Hades, who punished him with cruel torments. Tantalus was made to stand in the middle of a lake whose waters came to his chin, dying of thirst, yet unable to drink. He also had to endure the pangs of hunger, and though a tree bountiful with fruit arched over him, he could not eat. Finally, he had to endure the constant fear of death, as a giant block of stone forever hung precariously just above his head. This myth is how we came to have the word "tantalize;" and that was exactly how Norman felt: tantalized by the life that he had gained moving in with his grandparents. It felt just like it had before, but it was not the same. He went to school, but it was not the same school. He played outside, but it was not his yard. He knew people, but those people were not his friends. He was not the happy child he used to be and his grandparents couldn't help but notice.

They tried everything to bring him back to how he used to be, but nothing worked. Even when his grandmother tried to play superheroes with him, Norman was listless and distant. They were becoming increasingly worried that this was finally the effects of his mother's death getting to him. In reality, if they had asked Norman what was wrong, he would have told them that he missed his father, and that he needed to be with him, not here. Not with these two people that seemed to know nothing about him other than his name and his favorite flavor of ice-cream.

He knew that he was supposed to love being with his grandparents, that they were supposed to feel like an extension of his family, but they just felt like aliens. He hated it there. The rooms were stuffy and uncomfortable, like the windows hadn't been opened in years. It was bright and heavily decorated, but Norman was not allowed to touch anything other than his toys and the soft furniture. The only time he was ever relaxed was when his grandparents weren't home and he could sit out on the back porch and listen to the sounds of the woods behind their house. He would sit and think of what it would be like to escape this cramped and cluttered house and go live in the woods with the animals. He would think of what his mother told him, what she asked of him that day that felt so long ago now: if he could take care of his father. Norman's chest would feel tight, and he would hold back his tears. No, he would think to himself. Not anymore.

His unhappiness followed him like a scent, and the other kids at school didn't exactly want to play with the sad and distant boy who sat on the swings, pushing himself around with his feet, not going anywhere. His new teacher, Miss Adelle, watched him with concerned eyes every day. She didn't know what to do with her new student. He was brilliant, she could tell that from the assignments he turned in, but he never talked in class unless directly prompted, he never talked or played with the other kids. She was worried about the boy, and asked him to stay after class one day to talk with her.

"Yes, Miss Adelle?" He tucked his chin into his neck and looked at her with those painfully morose blue eyes. He was concerned that he had done something wrong, and even more concerned that he didn't know what it was.

"Would you like to have a seat?" She gestured to a nearby chair. He nodded and sat obediently. "So, Norman, how are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks." Ever polite little Norman swung his legs back and forth on the chair.

"Really? I'm glad to hear that. Because you don't seem fine. Is everything alright at home?"

His big eyes blinked back at her for a moment. He didn't know what to say. He had no real issues at home, except that he didn't live with his father and he hated his grandparents for separating them. "I…. I guess so."

"You guess so?"

"I mean… I don't know. Doesn't feel like home."

"What do you mean?" Norman shrugged, eyes on the ground. "You can talk to me, Norman, it's alright."

"it's just… ever since my mom got sick, nothing has been the same. I don't even live with my dad anymore; I live with my grandparents out here. And it's just… I told my mom that I'd take care of him, but I can't do that when they take me away. I just want everything to go back to normal."

There was silence for a moment. "Do your grandparents know this, Norman?"

Norman shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe. But I think they'd rather not know. They'd rather pretend I'm upset because of my mom and not because of them."

"I really think that you need to talk to them about this. They may be more understanding than you think." He cast his eyes away from her gaze and sighed. "Actually, consider that your homework for this weekend. Talk to them about how you feel and we'll meet again Monday after school. Same place. I'll bring some food."

Norman gave her a small smile as he stood and grabbed his stuff. Miss Adelle continued talking as he turned to go. "You know, Norman, it wouldn't hurt to get close to some of the other kids here. You never know, you may find it worthwhile." He paused for a moment, but didn't respond as he continued to walk out of the room.

Norman took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he walked down the long hall way. That conversation was not have he needed right now, with all the other questions and confusion swirling around inside his brain. He no longer knew how he should feel about this place. It was nice, but it was not his home - it was not what he knew and loved, and he hated it for that very reason. Seeing large double doors propped slightly open, he jumped on the opportunity and slid inside.

He sat down in one of the comfy chairs near the back of the auditorium. He didn't want t go back to is grandparents house. He vaguely wondered how long it would take him to walk back to his father's house. Pushing the thought away as ridiculous, he examined the room around him. It was not a large place, the auditorium, big enough for about 350 people, but for a smaller school it was all they needed. It was filled with plush red chairs, dark walls, carpet, and ceiling, and heavy red curtains framing a stage awash with light. A beautiful grand piano sat majestically, like a king over his kingdom, slightly off center on the raised platform. He returned his eyes to his hands folded in his lap, sensing another presence in the room. He didn't look up. He did not want to deal with another heart-to-heart this afternoon - he had enough to work out on his own. Presently, he was caught up in thinking of all the reasons he didn't want to go home. Or, what was loosely referred to as his home.

A melancholy chord struck and the quiet room was suddenly alive with music. Norman jumped slightly, but tried to ignore it. Quickly, the piano music quieted itself and settled into a deep, slow rhythm with sad and haunting notes. It melded into the background of the room and served as a kind of soundtrack to Norman's sour mood and thoughts. "If only's…" ran through his head like a freight train.

If only Mark hadn't teased me….

If only I hadn't hit him…

If only my friends had stuck around…

If only Dad wanted me…

If only I was a better kid…

If only Mom hadn't died…

Norman suddenly noticed that the music had stopped. He wondered how long it had been so achingly quiet in the auditorium. His cheeks felt hot, his eyes felt puffy, and beads of something warm and wet fell onto his folded hands. It took him a minute to realize he was crying. Hastily, he wiped his cheeks with his sleeve.

"Why so glum, chum?" As if by magic, a boy who looked a few years older than himself suddenly appeared in the seat to the left of Norman.

"Wh- What?"

"Why so glum, chum?" The boy repeated slowly. Norman's blue eyes stared blankly at the boy. "Why are you so sad looking?"

"Oh. I guess… because I am sad." He phrased it almost as a question. Norman was confused as to where this boy came from and why he was talking to him.

"Wanna talk about it?" Norman wiped his eyes of any stray tears and shook his head. "Didn't think so. My name's Jake."

"I'm Norman."

Jake couldn't hide the sly smirk that crossed his features. "Well… Norman. You wanna know what always makes me feel better?" The younger boy's eyebrows furrowed in question as the other boy's face split into a wide grin. "Come with me."

Anxiously, Norman followed this new boy down the aisle and up onto the stage, growing ever more confused as Jake placed himself proudly on the piano's bench. Norman's head cocked to the side, and he wondered if this boy had been the cause of the music earlier.

"Have you ever played a piano before?" Norman shook his head no. "It's really not hard. You just push the keys down in a way that makes it sound good. Like this." Jake's fingers pressed down a few white keys and the room reverberated with the same melancholy chord from before. "And then, you put another couple keys in the mix," he pressed down a few more keys, higher this time, "and then you use the keys around them to make a song." He replayed a bit of what Norman had heard earlier. "See? And the cool thing is that you can make whatever kind of sound you want. I played something sad because you looked sad. When I'm sad, I try and play something happy, like this." Light and bight notes filled the room in an extremely upbeat rhythm. Jake made a few silly faces at the younger boy, and was delighted to see Norman smile and laugh. As he finished playing, both boys were giggling. "Wanna give it a try?"

"Yeah!" Norman took a seat on the bench next to Jake.

"Okay, just,put your fingers where mine are." Their fingers moved to mimic each other. "Good. Now, just start playing anything around there. You'll know what sounds good and what doesn't. Just feel the music and let it flow."

Norman began to play a piano for the first time in his life. He played wrong notes, but he didn't care. He started off with something happy, something easy to get him used to the feel of the cool keys beneath his fingertips. He moved into something more mellow after that, something that reflected his feelings in as true a sense as he could manage. He had no idea how long he sat there on an empty stage playing for an audience of one, but by the time he paused to regain himself, Jake was asleep on one of the front row chairs. He looked down at his hands on the keys and smiled.

For the first time since his mother died, Norman felt normal.

For the first time in a long time, he felt happy.