My toy boat stalks a clueless duck paddling on an unblemished pond. A blank, indifferent sky is reflected in its placid surface. The remote control I hold projects my power. I know how to make myself huge.

My fowl hunting vessel rams into the oblivious creature, sending it squawking across the water, flapping its wings. I rise up on my toes, and my ten-year-old body expands, growing bigger. The way it did when I nudged my father’s back as he descended the stairs. It wasn’t my fault, I only wanted him to drop my boat.

Dad made the mistake of wrestling away my prized possession. He almost cracked the deck and detached the keel.  My fists clenched and my nails, like tiny knives, skewered my palms. When he turned towards the stairs, impulse drove my bloodied hands into his back. I didn’t know he was going to tumble the rest of the way.

I tried to revive him. Blood was bubbling up from his unresponsive lips onto mine. Giving him mouth-to-mouth was so gross I had to rinse with Coke afterward, but the sugar didn’t remove the raw metallic tang that clung to the back of my throat. However, my best efforts weren’t good enough–he’d stopped breathing. A vise squeezed my ribs and panic numbed my brain. Being sent away to some correctional facility for murder was not an option. My fingers pressed my temples, trying to reengage my brain. It was an accident.

I needed an alibi, to prove I wasn’t home at the time of his unfortunate demise, so I ran across the street, to the park. People would see an innocent boy playing with his toy boat. I recalled a performance on Law and Order that I would repeat for the paramedics when I called them later. If only he’d been reasonable and not taken away my boat.

After yanking it out of my hands, Dad said I’d get it back “when I stopped attacking other kids.” But they had picked me up and carried me around like I was nothing. I don’t like being reminded of how small I am. When they laughed and dumped me on the playground, I picked up the biggest rock I could find and threw it. My bones felt like they stretched and lengthened two feet when it smashed the biggest kid’s ugly face. Something dormant awakened–I felt powerful–so I hurled more rocks until those bullies shrank, cowering behind the jungle gym. When you defend yourself, you should be respected, not punished.

Tomorrow kids at school are going to show off their boats for history class—maritime cruisers, but mine will be the best, and put theirs to shame. They’ll be in awe of the unbroken curve of its hull and the sturdy bow built thick against rough seas.

Now my glossy vessel cuts through the water, separating the stillness, disrupting its smooth surface. Just like me. I disrupt the smooth surface of their fake smiles when grown-ups fawn over me, pinching my cheek, commenting on how cute I am–underestimating me. Their eyes skim over the coiled snake beneath the innocent facade. I capitalize on that, playing into a sweetness that repels me. Shrinking my image to pathetic so they can feel superior– until I almost scream. I will reeducate them. They will never pat me on the head again. I will make myself huge.

My vessel torpedoes the water, slicing it in opposite directions, hurtling forward to attack all intruders–another boat. Boom! Capsized! Target obliterated–affirmative! This is amusing, the kid who owns that boat is screaming, and his parents glare at me. Good, now I have witnesses. Time to evacuate and call 911.

Walking home, sunshine wraps her warm arms around my shoulders and congratulates me on my achievements. I am the admiral of these seas, and my heart bursts with pride. I am ten feet tall! If I could feel this way all the time, maybe I’d stop hurting people…maybe. For now, I rub dirt in my eyes to make them red and practice crying. By the time the ambulance leaves with my father's body zipped forever in a plastic bag, I’ll deserve an acting award for my performance. I am huge.