two colors

"Listen to me, child. There are only two colors in this world: black and white."

At this, the child's brow wrinkled in confusion. "But...what about the colors in the rainbow?" he asked. "Like red, and blue?"

"I don't know where you heard this rainbow nonsense, but it is pure falsehood and treachery," said the teacher sternly. He was an older man, strict enough to make you fear him, yet amiable enough to appear grandfatherly. The perfect teacher, by anyone's standards.

Unsure, both wanting to please him and not wanting to contradict him, the child tried again.

"Are you sure? I mean, look at my shirt. It's not white or black, it's gr-"

"Foolish boy!" the teacher snapped, his lined eyes becoming sharp and bright. "It is obviously white. Red and blue are not colors; they do not exist. Don't you trust me, your teacher, who has much more experience, wisdom, and knowledge than you?"

There was a long pause in which the boy struggled with the concept of accepting a lie as truth.

"Yes, sir," he finally said, quietly, meekly.

Immediately, the teacher smiled. "Good, good." His posture relaxed, and he leaned back in his chair, sighing in a good-natured fashion. "You will soon forget these silly fantasies, my boy. And I can't blame it all on you. After all, you are still very young and impressionable: you are not at fault."

The boy nodded obediently, trying to smile, eyes mostly on the ground. He half-listened as the teacher kept talking, gave him sympathetic pats on the back, sent him off on his way, sent him home, because he knew where he'd heard this rainbow nonsense, knew that the teacher was wrong, knew that she was in danger, knew that they would have to be careful about where they held their discussions at home.

He feared for his sister. He feared for himself. Most of all, he feared for the beautiful secrets he knew, feared that they might disappear, maybe even forever.