Chapter 3

Brockley grew fast and healthy. At a young age, Riley taught him to read and count.

"What's five plus five?" Riley asked, grinning at Brockley.

“Hmm… Ten!” Brockley answered without hesitation.

Riley gave two thumbs up. Like a teacher and according to the mandate from Avraam, Riley teaches and educates Brockley wholeheartedly. From baby Brockley until he was five years old, Riley took care of him, bathed him, wetted him, comforted him, fed him and gave him bedtime stories. Riley teaches sitting, crawling, standing, walking and talking.

Riley always kept an eye on him all the time and everywhere. If Brockley wanted to play outside the house, she would happily accompany him. If Brockley whined about something, she complied. She never got angry when Brockley was naughty. Never mind hitting, even yelling at him never. She raised and educated Brockley with great patience and tenderness.

She loved Brockley as much as she loved her self.

When Brockley was eight years old, Riley often took him to play in the woods because kids at that age were really active. He honed Brockley's motor to make it even better. "Let's chase brother if you can!" It's hard for Riley to call herself a mother even though her age and responsibilities are the same as a mother's.

"I will definitely win if I run a race with you!" cried Brockley excitedly. He took long strides, planted his feet on the ground and grass.

"Let's beat Big Brother again if we can!" Riley said fiercely as he pursed his lips.

“Carry me home if I win!”

With all his might Brockley ran very fast. The howling wind sent her hair flying in the air. Several times he wiped the sweat dripping from his forehead. He muttered to himself that he had to win this time.

While running fast, suddenly Riley's foot tripped over a rock causing his body to tumble forward.

Bukh!

“Ouch!” she groaned, holding his sore knee.

Instead of continuing to run and chase after victory, Brockley stopped and helped Riley. He rubbed the blood that was coming out of Riley's soft skin. "Must be sick, sis?" he hissed with a worried look on his face.

“It hurts when you hold it, Brockley. Your fingers are like medicine,” Riley joked with a smile, even though he had been enduring the pain. "Why did you stop? You should run again and win.”

Little Brockley shrugged his shoulders once and pursed his lips. "I feel sorry for Riley. I can't bear to see you fall let alone get hurt like this."

Then Brockley broke the taro stem, then applied the sap to the wound. "Get well soon!" he said, trying to smile.

"Because you've won, so let you carry it home."

“You are injured. Next time.”

"We'll forget later. Come on!"

Finally Brockley got on Riley's back even though Riley limped towards the house.

***

At a very young age, Brockley learned many valuable lessons from Riley about many things, not just reading, writing and arithmetic. Brockley taught literature, history, even philosophy and natural sciences. Riley got all that knowledge from his teacher and also from dozens of books he read.

"Aristotle tried to bring order to the system of government. He created a classification system of monarchy, oligarchy, tyranny, democracy and republic.”

Brockley nodded in understanding listening to the lesson from his teacher.

On one occasion, Riley stood before Brockley reading several passages from Homer.

A performance so extraordinary from Riley Royse, that it left the little boy feeling amazed and stunned.

Since then, Brockley has been fond of reading poetry by famous poets. Not only that, since childhood he began to work on writing several beautiful verses of poetry.

There is one poem by Brockley that is quite attention-grabbing, with the title 'She'.

When I darken my eyes

I saw an angel present.

Not from heaven.

She comes from the heart.

But, will she be able to enter the heart?

Not yet ten years old, Brockley can already make Riley's heart flutter. "How did you come to write poetry as good as this?" she asked, frowning.

“Because I often read Riley's poetry. You said it was good? I think my work is nothing compared to your work.”

No, that's not what Riley meant. But, how can a Brockley be thrilled? Why was Riley suddenly moved while reading the poem? Is something wrong? Riley took a deep breath and looked away.

Because he was fed heavy thoughts from a young age, Brockley's curiosity increased quite significantly. He asked curiously, “Sis, what were we created for?” His eyes were slightly narrowed and his gaze was very serious.

Riley turned her head back and put down his pen. Quite a lot of answers scattered in his mind. However, if he answered according to his perception, she doubted that Brockley would understand what he was about to convey. According to him, Brockley's young age may not be able to digest it.

Riley smiled then replied, “We will know the meaning of life after we go through the long and hard stages of life. Your question is too high, Brockley. It's better if you ask light things.

Brockley gave a short snort. He rubbed his chin and asked back, "What is love?"

Again, Riley put down his pen and stopped writing. "When you grow up, you will understand for yourself what love is, without having to be explained by anyone."

"I have to know now!" Brockley insisted indifferently.

Seeing Brockley so enthusiastic, Riley was aghast and a little shocked. “You are so young, Brockley. After all, you don't know any women here except for Sister and Aunt Yara."

“I'm curious because almost all of Sister's poems are about love. The only men here are Uncle Herbert, me, and Big Brother Lothar. How come you can write so many love poems?”

Riley forced a smile at the behavior of the child in front of him. "Anyway, about love, when you grow up you will understand yourself, at least when you enter puberty later, maybe in three years."

"What's the sign?"

"You dream and fluid will come out of your genitals." Riley said that blatantly.

Hearing this clear and curious explanation, Brockley could only nod several times.

On another occasion, Brockley, who had turned twelve years old, then asked for something. “Tell me about the old wars!”

Like a history teacher, Riley opened one of the old books that recounted the wars of the BC era. He told about the brave commander who led the war troops.

Brockley stood up with a fist clenched. “I will be a warlord too!” he cried in a very loud voice.