The last reference to the “Rock-God” was a something Chester had overheard the pair joke about during their playful conversation on the school’s steps. Chester hoped that after studying her abandoned notes and general demeanor, along with a steady dumbing-down of rhetoric and reasonably proficient handwriting-imitation skill, he had enough artillery to pen a credible letter. Again, he was betting on the power of those hormones to quell any remnant suspicion.

Of course, Daniel bought right in. Chester was not only impressed by his own resourcefulness—yet again—but equally so by Daniel’s. Somehow, the boy managed to lie to his mother, hop a bus to Broomfield, and get to Will Call five minutes to 7 p.m. Nothing in the world can repel a teenage boy’s sex-drive, Chester thought, smiling to himself as he followed the young man inside to his seat. Daniel had obviously dressed and prepped for the occasion, busting at the seams, hair combed, neatly adorned, desire oozing from the corners of the teenager’s eyes as he searched the incoming crowd for sweet Mona who would never arrive.

Soon enough the lights went down and the crowd erupted into a mild frenzy, clapping and chanting and yelping for the anticipated guru. Daniel meanwhile, just ten or so rows from the stage, was clearly anxious and actually growing worried that Mona had not yet arrived. From a few seats behind, Chester could gather this much about the boy’s attention and hoped he wouldn’t run out before the speech had begun, before Hon Li and Daniel in effect “crossed paths.” Then finally, the venerable Hon-Yu Li walked calmly out onto stage, smiling his humble and serene eyes onto the crowd and bowing his head slightly to the uproar of shouts and applause. Daniel hardly paid attention to the man—he didn’t even know whom he was there to see—and rather kept looking back, surveying the entrances, utterly confused as to why Mona was missing. Most people were still standing in the crowd, some sitting, and soon a large forty-something woman crossed Daniel in the row of chairs and took the empty seat next to him.

“Uh, I’m sorry, but I think…actually someone’s sitting there,” he said to her politely. After which she casually pulled out her ticket and showed Daniel that in fact the seat was hers, that in fact Daniel was alone and there was no one coming. Daniel appeared to be on the verge of tears, while Hon-Li was calming the crowd, chuckling and saying “enough, enough,” in his broken accent. And then, as the crowd died down, his palms met each other at the front of his face, his eyes shut, and a prayer came quietly and deeply from Hon Li’s small mouth.

The prayer was in Tibetan. Virtually no one in the throng of the convention center in Broomfield, Colorado spoke Tibetan, so it was as usual just a formality. But Chester, keeping his eyes on the boy ahead of him, noticed a shift. Daniel stopped, his eyes pausing, no longer gazing about the entrance doors, as though he’d heard or recognized something that spoke to him, and the boy turned for the first time toward the speaker on stage and was for a moment captivated. For in fact, Daniel somehow understood every word of the prayer—it was as though the monk was speaking English, though the young man knew he wasn’t, which left him immediately baffled, perhaps frightened, that he knew what the orange-clad Asian man on stage was saying.

As the crowd finally sat, Daniel almost unconsciously sat with them. Chester sensed the boy didn’t know why he was there or why he was sitting but that somehow he must, that this was his path. Anxiety was now growing in the reporter. Something more had to happen, something to keep Daniel in the seat, perhaps to get him on stage with the monk, so that they could meet directly and sparks could fly. At least, this was the sentiment that Chester kept running through in his head. Just a notion, he thought. But it would mean something, it had to.

“Thank you all for coming,” began the venerable speaker over the now quiet milieu. “It’s so nice to be back in the clean and fresh air of the Rocky Mountains. Always such a pleasant place to visit. And I see many old friends here tonight.” Hon Li gazed over the crowd in front of him, picking out a few souls and waving and bowing to each, creating personal relationships with his audience members. “I’d like to begin our discussion tonight by addressing the age-old phenomenon of desi–” But the monk stopped. His smile fading and dropping. His legs moving themselves toward the edge of the stage. His chest growing large, taking in a slow gasp of new air. Something….something had frozen the monk on stage, and after a few moments the crowd began to whisper and bustle. What was wrong? What was happening?

And the monk finally said: “Dge rgan long ba”

And the crowd hushed, the room went silent again.

“Ston gzugs po!” proclaimed the monk.

Everyone was looking about, trying to decipher what was happening. Was the monk speaking to someone? No one understood. Chester certainly didn’t, but in his delusion of grandeur, he suspected what was happening and peered at Daniel—the only one among the crowd who was wasn’t looking about confused or whispering questions and shrugging. The boy was staring directly at the monk, as though they were having a private conversation.

Again, Hon Li spoke in Tibetan, and Daniel understood every word: “Great one. You have come. Reveal yourself.” And tears began to run down the monk’s face, and the crowd in front who could see this began to whisper louder, utterly puzzled. The audience everywhere picked up on this energy, growing louder, chaos was igniting. And the Ven. Li dropped to his knees, looking out blankly onto the crowd, for he could not see beyond the first few rows, though he sensed who was among them. Again, he shouted in Tibetan, “Reveal Yourself! Please, Father!”

At this, Daniel dashed from his seat, almost violently, pushing people out of his way and rushing to the outer hallways, slamming open the entrance doors and jogging to the exit of the arena. Nerves were tightening his stomach and crawling up his chest, making his head boil, forcing hot tears to the surface of his eyes. He couldn’t understand what was happening, how he could have known the language of the monk or why he’d felt that the man was speaking directly to him, but the whole thing had frightened Daniel intensely and now the boy’s instinct was to run.

Satisfied, Chester quickly followed the boy out into the parking lot. “Daniel,” he shouted from behind, smiling and jogging now too. “Daniel, stop!”

The boy halted, turning in bewilderment. “Who are you? How do you know my name?” the boy cried.

“It’s me. Chester. Remember? Chester Goldsmith. I wrote the book about you.”

“The–?” Daniel shook his head. “What book? What are you talking about?”

Now, Chester was confused. “You mean you– She shielded you even from that?”

“She? Who’s she?”

“Your mother, Daniel. She’s shielded you from your true nature, your hidden powers that make you so unique.”

“Stop it! Just stop it. I– You don’t know me or my mother, and…I have to go.” The boy continued walking away toward the bus stop at the corner of the lot.

Chester again trailed quickly. “Don’t you see, Daniel? Something’s different about you. You understood Hon Li, didn’t you? What was he saying, Daniel?”

“I don’t know! Leave me alone!”

“He was speaking to you.”

Daniel again turned. “What are you talking about? I don’t know…what he was saying, okay? I don’t even know him. I came here ‘cause I was supposed to meet–”

“I wrote the letter from Mona, Daniel.”

The boy froze, anger rising in his eyes now.

“I’m sorry, but I thought it was the only way to get you here, to get you to meet Hon Li, without your mother, without–”

“No! You– Leave me alone. I don’t know what the hell you want from me, but just leave me alone or I’m calling the cops, man. Okay? Get away from me.” He turned then and began to run.

Chester had to think quick. “You were in the hospital room with Tony!” he shouted after the boy. “You touched him, you closed your eyes and saw a light, and he was healed!”

And once again, the boy slowed and paused, not turning, but simply lowering his head to the ground, searching for a memory of what had happened in that room. Something he instinctively tried to block from his thoughts. Chester was walking slowly up behind the boy, now almost to the bus stop.

The man spoke calmly now, quietly. “You healed him, Daniel. It wasn’t some miracle out of the blue. It was you. Your miracle. There is something within you, Daniel. A power you haven’t been allowed to explore. But it’s something that can help people. It’s your true nature. Don’t hide it any longer. Hon Li can help bring it out, can help bring you back to your true self, your real powers. Come with me, back inside. I’ll introduce you. No one’s going to hurt you, son. We only want to help. You’re a healer, Daniel. A real healer. The kind that only comes around once every millennium. Don’t let the world down, son. Don’t hide yourself any longer. Come.”

Daniel’s tears came again and he began to shake his head. He wanted desperately not to believe this, not to be any different than anyone else. He wanted to get on the bus that would soon be arriving. But something deep inside him—that small boy covered in mud, the one he’d seen in the hospital room beside his dying friend, the one who had said “live” just before his friend had suddenly awakened—that deep, small voice was pulling him back in the opposite direction.

Soon, the bus came and pulled to a stop in front of the parking lot. And Daniel had to make a decision. He looked at the man, inviting him back to the arena, to meet the famous speaker inside, and then looked to the bus stop, his way home, back to mother, to his simple life. Daniel stared at the ground, closed his eyes, searched his feelings, his fears, his dreams, his silent, dark questions over curiosities he’d never had the nerve to voice. A decision. One way or the other.

And then, Daniel looked up and opened his eyes. His nerves running high, sizzling the inside of his belly. And he turned toward the chosen path. And breathed in, his jaw shaking. And took a step in the direction of his fate. In the direction he’d been destined to take his entire life.

To be continued…
Read more stories from Charlie Thomas at 
ForthMagazine.com/Charlie-Thomas.