In the singular depths of those eyes

[21] Fric might grow into his looks and prove equal to his pedigree, but currently he appeared to be an average ten-year-old boy. “Why aren’t you in class?” Ethan wondered. “You an atheist or something? Don’t you know it’s the week before Christmas? Even home-schooled Hollywood brats get a break.” A cadre of tutors visited five days a week. The private school that Fric attended for a while had not proved to be a suitable environment for him. With the famous Channing Manheim for a father, with the famous and notorious Freddie Nielander for a mother, Fric became an object of envy and ridicule even among the children of other celebrities. Being the skinny son of a buffed star adored for heroic roles also made him a figure of fun to crueler kids. The severity of his asthma further argued for schooling at home, in a controlled environment. “Have any idea what you’ll get Christmas morning?” Ethan asked. “Yeah. I had to submit my list to Mrs. McBee by December fifth. I told her not to bother wrapping the stuff, but she will. She always does. She says it’s not Christmas morning without some mystery.” “I’d have to agree with that.” The boy shrugged, and slumped in his chair again. Although the Face was currently on location for a film, he would return from Florida the day before Christmas. “It’ll be good to have your dad home for the holidays. You guys have any special plans once he gets back?” The boy shrugged again, attempting to convey lack of knowledge or indifference, but instead—and unwittingly—revealing a misery that made Ethan feel uncharacteristically helpless. Fric had inherited luminous green eyes to match his mother’s. In the singular depths of those eyes, enough could be read about the boy’s loneliness to fill a library shelf or two.