die catfish, die. - 6. judge mom, presiding

What is happening to me?
Crazy someone say
Where is my friend when I need you most?
Gone away

But I won’t cry for yesterday
There’s an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find.

_{DURAN DURAN - ORDINARY WORLD (1992)}

* * * * *

Eli’s eyes fluttered awake. Today, it hadn’t been his alarm that had woken him up, rather the thick smell of breakfast floating in the air. He rolled over, examined his alarm clock, and groaned; it was a few minutes south of six. He lingered between the sheets for a moment, pulling the comforter over his head.

He found himself missing Jacob more than he had in a while. The world seemed to be an out-of-control train, hell-bent on plowing through and continuing on without some of its passengers; Eli couldn’t get off, and Jacob couldn’t get back on.

Holding onto the lingering sadness for a few spare moments, he rolled out of bed, scratched himself, pulled on a shirt and his favorite shorts, and headed upstairs to deal with the ray of fucking sunshine that was his mother.

The kitchen was hazy with bacon smoke; the pan spattered and hissed before his mother.

Eli came to a stop in the kitchen and rubbed his eyes. He pushed his feelings aside, mostly because he didn’t want another confrontation with his mother. “What’s all this?”

“I was in the mood for something other than a bagel.” She gave him a half-smile, flipping several pieces of bacon with a fork.

Eli ambled to the coffee pot and poured himself half a cup of coffee. He filled the rest with whole milk and sugar, then put the cup in the microwave to warm up for several seconds.

“Not too much of that,” his mother said. “I don’t want you to be wired at school.”

He glanced back at her. “I’m just flavoring my milk,” he said flatly.

The microwave beeped. Eli collected his cup and sat at the breakfast nook.

His mother dished up a plate and walked it over to him; it was five strips of bacon, a mountain of scrambled eggs doused in pepper, and a slice of toast with peach jam. This was the perfect start to a Monday, at least in Eli’s opinion.

She returned to the stove and turned it off before dishing up her own meal. Balancing her coffee cup and her plate in her hands, she carefully put them down at the spot across from Eli. Then, she backtracked out of the kitchen and walked through the door into the dining room.

Eli shoveled several large scoops of egg into his mouth.

“All rise. Judge Mom presiding.”

Eli glanced up. Shit.

His mother walked back into the kitchen holding a wooden gavel and had a dish towel ceremoniously draped around her neck.

Eli stood up and watched her, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

The gavel had been a gift from Grandma and Grandpa. Eli guessed they didn’t understand that when she passed the state bar, she’d be doing criminal law and not sitting on the bench as a judge. Maybe they had hopes for her, as she probably had hopes for him; maybe the gavel was a little nudge. Instead, she used the gavel to hand down sentencing in the Court of Mom.

“Please be seated,” she said, sitting before her plate.

Eli sat down and studied her, munching on a strip of bacon.

“In the case of Eli versus mall security, the Court of Mom has found the defendant guilty for the charges of talking back, fighting with his cousin, and public disturbance involving a law enforcement officer. How does the defense plead?”

Eli knew that the punishment would be worse if he didn’t take the plea deal. Not like he’d be going to jail or anything, but the length of his sentence could be adversely affected if he didn’t have a good argument for his case. “Defense wishes to take the plea agreement and plead guilty to all charges. May the Court of Mom have mercy, Your Honor.”

“The defendant is hereby sentenced to three weeks of groundation, to be reduced in cases of good behavior and hard labor. If it pleases the defense, the defendant may be put on early parole for cleaning out the garage, organizing the laundry room, and spraying the mulch for weeds.” She hit the gavel against the table. “Case dismissed.”

Eli knew this meant that he’d be grounded for a week at most, as long as he got his chores done. He shoveled several more scoops of egg into his mouth.

She took a slow sip from her coffee mug. “You have an appointment with the urologist tomorrow afternoon.”

Eli groaned.

“I’ll be picking you up from school early.”

He sighed. “Okay. Whatever.”

“Are you talking back to Judge Mom?” She pointed the gavel at him.

“No,” he said innocently.

She set the hammer off to the side. “What’s the matter?”

“I get to see the penis doctor. What’s not to be excited about?”

“It’s just a follow-up exam. They said if they didn’t find anything wrong, you won’t have to see a urologist until you’re twenty-one.”

“I’ve been having follow-up exams every other year since I was five. Is it really going to come back at this point?”

“Probably not, baby. But they need to make sure it didn’t come back or anything.”

“Trust me, I’m sure you’d know if it had.” He sighed again. “Could you have at least said something last week rather than the day before the appointment?”

“I know you too well. You would have tried to find some way out of it, if I had.” She rubbed his back between the shoulders. “Just take it one day at a time, okay? I’m happy as long as you’re healthy and happy. This is just a little speed bump, then we get on with our lives until the next speed bump.”

“Why is everything a speed bump?” He paused. “You called Jacob a speed bump.”

“Bad times are speed bumps.” She took a bite of toast and set it back down on the plate, rubbing her fingers free of crumbs. “What do we do when we reach a speed bump?”

Eli looked up at her.

“When bad things happen we slow down, take the time to make sure everyone is okay, and when it’s safe, we go back to normalcy as best we can. We slow down so we don’t skip over the important things, so we don’t forget the important lessons.”

* * * * *

The desk rattled next to Eli, snapping him out of a thought; for some reason, Jacob’s ghost would not leave him alone today.

Chase scooted into the seat next to him. He glanced over and paused, the corners of his mouth slowly turning up to a smile. “Holy shit, your eye.”

Instinctively, Eli brought his fingers to the puffy, purple bruise on his face. “Yeah.”

“What sort of keyboard did that?”

“A key-tard called my cousin. I called him out on his shit, and he didn’t like it. Obviously.”

“I hope you got in a few good hits, since he messed up your face like that.”

“I tried, believe me.” Eli glanced up and caught Chase looking at him curiously. “Some dude was holding me back, then mall security got there and made it this whole big thing.”

He chuckled. “You got into a fight at the mall?”

“Unfortunately.”

Chase paused, his eyes darting around Eli’s body. “You changed your hair.”

Eli managed a weak smile. “Yeah.”

“Okay, everyone,” the teacher yelled over the noise. Stockton walked through the door and went to her desk. “I want homework in the basket right now. You have three minutes before we start, then it’s late.”

Chase yanked the papers off Eli’s desk and stacked them on his. “I got it.”

Eli watched him walk across the room and toss the papers into the basket. “Thank you,” Eli said as Chase sat back down. “Where’s Joey?”

Chase flashed a grin, but returned his face to neutral as if the smile was a mistake. “He’s got the flu. He’ll probably be out tomorrow, too.”

Eli felt relieved for some reason.

“You seem a little off,” Chase said. “Black eye thing?”

“Sorta,” Eli replied. “Sick of having to see all these doctors and shit.”

Chase nodded.

“Okay, papers in. We’re getting started.” Stockton walked to the front of the class, her long dress swinging around her ankles.

“Let’s talk after class,” Chase said, leaning back.

* * * * *

A breeze picked up around Eli, tickling his recently shorn scalp. He adjusted his backpack as they walked across the parking lot, accidentally bumping his shoulder into Chase’s arm. He glanced up at Chase, who was a full head taller. “Sorry.”

Chase shrugged.

They lived in the same direction away from the school, but about halfway to Eli’s house, they’d have to split ways. Normally he wouldn’t walk with Chase because Chase was usually off somewhere else with Joey. This was the first time Eli noticed that Chase seemed to be in good spirits.

“Is your mom over the whole keyboard thing?”

“Nah. She’ll hold that over me for a month before she moves onto something else. Well, unless my little brother does something stupid.”

Eli glanced at him again. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“He’s a little turd.”

Eli nodded.

“He’s seven. For some reason he likes to hoard food in his bedroom. Mom was cleaning this weekend and found a whole plate of scrambled eggs under his bed. Who knows how long they were under there.”

Eli thought about his own breakfast, and his stomach gurgled in protest. “Nasty.”

“He was almost one when my parents adopted him.”

“Oh,” Eli said softly. “Are you…?”

Chase nodded. “I was four. I don’t remember much before that. Mom can’t have kids because her mom-parts are all fucked up or something. She has the cyst thing, but I can’t remember what it’s called.” He tugged on his backpack straps.

“She seemed a little religious,” Eli commented, remembering what she’d said about sewing something for someone at their church.

“Fire and brimstone every Sunday.”

“Are you? Religious, I mean.”

He stared at Eli. “Me? Fuck that shit. I just keep my mouth shut. I don’t know what to believe, but a lot of the Pentecostals seem backwards. I don’t feel like I belong there. It really eeks me out, sometimes.”

“What eeks you out about it?”

“When everyone starts speaking in tongues. It’s a bunch of bullshit, but if I don’t do it, then they think something’s wrong with me. They make Joey go to church with us if he spends the night.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I thought it would scare him off the first time after he saw everyone acting all fuckered up, but he still spends the night sometimes.”

“Is he Pentecostal?”

Chase shook his head. “No, he’s just a bastard. It gives him an excuse to act like an idiot. He just likes the attention. Then my parents ask me why I can’t be more like Joey. Joey has the spirit! You should really let God in like Joey does.”

Eli scratched the side of his face.

“If only they knew what sort of fuckface he can be.”

Eli stopped, and when he collected his thoughts he looked up at Chase. “Can I ask you something?”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t want to make you mad, but why do you hang out with him?”

He shook his head slightly and started walking again.

Eli jogged a few long strides to catch up. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I wish I could answer, but I don’t know what to tell you. I just can’t stop hanging out with him.”

“But, why?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Chase mumbled.

Eli wondered what was going on between the two of them.

“So, you know about me, but I don’t know a damn thing about you.”

Eli shrugged, a bit confused about the sudden change in direction in their conversation. “It’s just Mom and me at home. She’s a lawyer. I don’t know what we believe in, but we don’t really go to church or anything.”

Chase smirked. “Lucky for you, then.”

“And, well, my dad lives in Texas. I’ve never met him, but he’s an asshole.”

Chase glanced to the side. “What makes him an asshole?”

“He fucked this other chick when Mom was pregnant with me,” Eli said, blushing. “I have a half-brother running around somewhere because of that. And a few half-siblings in Texas.”

“Ouch,” Chase said quietly. “Did your mom nail him to the floor?”

“She wasn’t a lawyer then, and she doesn’t practice divorce law. Divorce law pisses her off, for… reasons.”

“I guess. Shit.”

* * * * *

Eli shifted his weight and glanced around the waiting room; his butt was starting to fall asleep. Most of the other patients were way old—like, in their sixties or something. He slumped back and blushed, feeling very out of place.

His mom flipped a page in the magazine she was reading. “You okay?” she asked quietly.

“I just want to get this over with,” he mumbled.

She nodded. “You’re seeing a new doctor. You want me to go in with you?”

Eli’s cheeks burnt and buzzed. “No!” he hissed.

“Eli, it’s not like I’ve never seen it before,” she whispered back.

The red would not leave his face. “It’s fine, Mom.”

“I was told this guy was one of the best in the state.”

Eli took a deep breath and shifted again. He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. He knew what was coming, and there was no way to weasel his way out of seeing this guy.

His old doctor was just that: old. He was clinical. He was robotic. He was curt. The doctor poked and prodded and pulled and squeezed things way too hard.

And his hands were always ice cold.

Eli hoped that the new guy wasn’t another carbon copy of the old dude he’d seen for most of his life.

A nurse came out of a door to their left. “Eli?”

He sighed deeply and stood up. “Yeah,” he said softly. He felt as if every pair of eyes watched him as he crossed the room.

“Follow me back,” she said with a warm smile. Once they were through the door heading down the hallway, she said, “My name’s Staci, Doctor Drammel’s nurse. I’m going to get you all set up.” She glanced back at him. “Nervous?”

Eli smirked. “No, I’m thrilled,” he said sarcastically.

She smiled again. “It’s okay to be nervous. Nobody likes these kinds of appointments.” She stopped and put a hand on his shoulder. “Go ahead and step up on the scale here. We’ll get your weight.”

Eli stepped up onto the platform and stared at the display; it showed his weight at roughly half of what it should have been. He looked over at the nurse. “It’s metric?”

“The doc likes it a little better.” She smiled as she wrote something down in his chart. “You’re a bit lighter than you should be. Fifty-two kilos. You’re about nineteen pounds underweight for your age and height.”

“It’s this stupid metabolism.”

She wrote a few more things in his chart, then nodded over her shoulder. “We’ve got one more stop before we hit the exam room.”

They stopped next to an open door; inside was a toilet and a sink.

“Are you familiar with the flow test?” she asked.

Eli nodded. “Pee into the funnel thing inside the toilet.”

“You got it.” She stepped around him and leaned into the bathroom. She flipped a switch on a machine hanging next to the mirror. A set of green LED numbers lit up. She backed out. “I’ll meet you back out here when you’re done.”

He shut the door behind himself, looked down into the toilet and studied the little white funnel. With a deep sigh, he unzipped and fished himself out of his underwear. He relaxed as much as he could, given that he always had an issue going to the bathroom in unfamiliar places. Finally, after a moment, he had liftoff; he did his best to aim for the hole in the middle of the funnel. He shook himself out, put all his parts away, and washed his hands.

Staci turned to him when he pulled the door open. “All done?”

“Yeah,” Eli mumbled.

She stepped into the bathroom and wrote down the numbers from the little display, then shut it off.

Staci led him to the exam room. There was an examination table with that uninviting butcher paper rolled down the length of it and two huge UFO-looking light fixtures tethered overhead.

Eli cringed at the sight of the stirrups, and a pain hit him in the gut when he locked eyes on the surgical tray next to the table. On the tray was a surgical napkin with various instruments of torture laid out neatly on top. These tools had names such as urological bougies, pedicle clamps, and cysto lithotomy forceps. There were several cotton balls, a wrapped Q-tip that seemed a mile long, a bottle of ammonia, a plastic syringe with anesthetic gel the color of molasses, and a mess of spaghetti-thin black tubes which made up the most evil of the medical hardware—the cystoscope. The temperature in the room seemed to drop, and his whole body involuntarily shuddered. He'd had the displeasure of meeting many of these tools at one point or another in his life.

There were two chairs next to the counter and a stool on wheels. She held her hand toward one of the chairs. “I’m going to get your blood pressure and listen to your heart.”

Eli nodded.

She wheeled over the blood pressure machine and slipped a cuff around his arm. She pushed a button on the display, and the cuff started squeezing him. She slipped a little white plastic clip on the end of his finger, then rubbed a little device across his forehead.

She studied the device and wrote in his chart. “Temperature is normal,” she said, as if she were dictating to someone else. She pulled the clip off his finger. “Oxygen levels look good.”

The blood pressure machine clicked and lightly hissed. She glanced at the display and, again, wrote in his chart. “Looks like your blood pressure is just a tad low. Nothing concerning, especially with your age and your metabolism.” Staci looked at him and smiled.

Once she had run the stethoscope across his torso several times, she leaned against the counter, still writing volumes of information into his chart, and asked, “Are you currently taking any medications?”

Eli shook his head. “No.”

She leafed through several pages of his chart. “So we’re doing a follow-up for a congenital urethral stricture. That’s no fun, is it?”

“Not at all,” Eli mumbled.

“Have you had any trouble urinating? Any strange pain or pressure?”

Again, Eli shook his head. “No.”

“Okay, I’ll send Doctor Drammel in to see you. He should be here in a bit.” She left the room.

Eli fidgeted for a moment before taking his phone out of his pocket. He got through two levels of Angry Birds before the door opened. He hit the button on his phone and shoved it back in his pocket.

Suddenly, his eyes alighted what he considered to be a pretty big fucking issue. Eli glanced up at the doctor and lost his breath for a fast moment; the guy was hot.

This was the absolute last thing Eli wanted.

Sweet fucking Jesus!

The doctor seemed young, especially for a guy practicing specialized medicine. He was ruggedly handsome, the lower parts of his face sprinkled with dark stubble. Even though he wore a white button-down shirt and a lab coat, Eli could tell that the doctor’s arms filled out the sleeves without much room to spare. His jaw was square and so chiseled that it could probably cut a roast. His steely eyes were sharp and piercing.

Eli imagined the guy probably had a zillion-pack rack of abs under that shirt, every taut muscle fiber visible through the skin as he worked out.

No, no, no! This simply would not do. This man would be handling Eli’s nether-parts, and there would be nothing to hold back the inevitable. The coldest of cold water, the oldest of old women, the deadest of dead puppies, his irrational fear of any number of insects—none of it would work.

The doctor reached out his hand. “Hey, Eli. I’m Doctor Drammel. You can call me Doctor Brian, if you want.” His grip was firm, but gentle.

Eli sputtered. “Um, hi.”

“Is it warm in here? Your face is a little flushed.” He held a hand against Eli’s forehead, feeling his temperature with the backs of his fingers.

Eli wanted to crawl under that blue-light-special tile on the floor and die. “I’m okay,” he mumbled.

Doctor Brian hooked the stool with his foot and pulled it underneath himself. He sat and quietly read over Eli’s chart.

Eli glanced around the room, trying to find anyplace else for his mind to be. His eyes stopped on a lateral-view anatomical drawing of male fiddly-bits. He could clearly identify the structures of the penis and the testes and maybe some parts of the intestines. His eyes glossed over; there was also a gloved hand with what appeared to be a finger shoved up the b-hole, pressing against a red blob representing some organ or another.

Christ on a cracker!

So far, this had been one of the most miserable urological appointments he’d ever had the displeasure of attending, and he hadn't even started the torture.

“That’s how we test the prostate for cancer,” the doctor said. “Digital rectal exam.”

Eli’s head snapped around.

Doctor Brian met his gaze, then he glanced back at the poster briefly before returning to Eli’s chart.

“D… digital? Is there some sort of computer scope or something that… goes, um… up there?”

The doctor held up his pointer finger and wiggled it around. “Digital. Meaning digits.”

Eli knitted his brow. “You mean you have to put your finger in someone’s butt?”

He shrugged. “It’s part of the job. And it’s part of every man’s yearly physical.”

Eli felt the floor fall away from him. “Oh, God. Do I have to, uhh… I mean…”

Doctor Brian glanced up. “Don’t worry, you’ve got another thirty years before you even have to worry about the digits.”

Eli sighed in relief. “Thank God.”

The doctor closed the file. “The only reason we’d ever have to do a D.R.E. before then is if you were exhibiting certain symptoms or having rectal issues.”

“It must be embarrassing,” Eli mumbled.

Doctor Brian crossed one leg over the other. “Can I be candid?”

“Candid?”

“It means,” he swirled his hands around in front of him, “like, can I talk to you like a friend. Or an equal. Not like a doctor.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess.”

He gave a shallow sigh and collected his thoughts. “On average, I’d say I look at anywhere from fifteen to thirty sets of male genitalia in a day, not including my own.” He smirked. “I’ve seen big ones, small ones, all shapes and sizes. I’ve seen just about everything that can go wrong for a guy below the belt. And guess what?”

Eli shook his head slightly.

“It’s not my job to judge. It’s my job to make sure all of your equipment works right, that you’re healthy, and that your body parts aren’t trying to kill you. I’ve done exams where the patient suddenly sprang an erection. It’s extremely common, but you can imagine it’s probably embarrassing for the patient.

"But you know what? I don’t even bat an eye. I’ve done prostate exams like that,” he pointed his thumb at the poster, “and because I have to put pressure on the prostate to feel for abnormalities, I’ve accidentally made patients ejaculate.”

Eli wrinkled his nose and giggled. “Eww. Really?”

He shrugged. “Dude, it happens. It’s a bodily function that every guy has, and it’s completely normal. I just hand the guy a tissue and move on.”

Eli stared.

“What I’m trying to say is that you have nothing to be embarrassed about. As a doctor, I’ve seen just about everything.”

Eli sighed. “I guess so.”

“So, let’s talk about you.”

Eli leaned back.

“Your pressure test was low—”

Groaning, Eli threw his head back and rested it against the wall. “Damn it,” he muttered. He looked over at the medical tray with fear.

Doctor Brian glanced over at the tray, then stood and walked around the end of the table. “I see you’ve been introduced to the flexible cystoscope. This one’s brand new. All sorts of new features.” He started to unplug the cord that connected the scope to the flat panel television mounted to the wall. “It’s thinner and has a better camera. Easier to control. Haven’t even had a chance to use it yet. You know what we’re going to do with this?”

Eli hitched, his voice cracking. “I know where that goes.”

Doctor Brian smiled. “Well, we’re going to do something a little different today. I’m going to put this away since we don’t need it.”

There was a buzzing feeling in Eli’s cheeks. “W… what?”

The doctor shut the lid on the case that held the scope, and latched it shut. He came back around the table and sat on the stool. “Your pressure readings were eighteen milliliters per second. Yeah, they were a little low, but average for your age is about twenty. I’m confident that we probably don’t need to scope you.”

Suddenly, Eli could feel the floor again.

“Take a deep breath. You look like your head’s about to explode.”

Eli sighed, and took several deep breaths. He couldn’t believe this guy; Doctor Brian was so different than the fossil that used to manhandle Eli.

“So, here’s what we’re going to do; first I’m going to ask you some questions about your gear.” He rotated a hand in a circular motion above his own crotch. “Then, I’ll take a look at a few things, maybe squeeze a few things, and once that’s over, we’ll have a chat with your mom in my office. If everything looks good, you won’t have to come back to see me until you’re legally old enough to slam tequila shooters at TGI Fridays. Sound like a plan?”

Eli nodded, and he couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah. Okay.”

* * * * *

“Let’s pick something up for dinner.” His mother took a right onto the street and merged into a left-hand turn-only lane. “What do you feel like?”

“I. Don’t. Care.” Eli smoldered and gritted his teeth. He shouldered against the door with his head resting on the window, arms crossed; he was trying to make himself as small as he could. His face burned bright red, and there was a slight ringing in his ears.

“What’s the matter? You’ve been grumpy since we talked to the doctor. He didn’t have one bit of bad news.”

“I’m. Fine.” He huffed and squeezed his arms. The buzzing sensation returned, agitating every square inch of skin on his body.

She glanced over, then returned her attention to the road. “Okay,” she said defensively. After a moment, she grinned and shook her bangs out of her face. “Mmm, mmm. Man, that doctor was sure something to look at.”

Eli sizzled; he imagined himself a slice of bacon in a frying pan, violently splattering and popping.

“He could take me on a date any day of the week.”

“Okay, Mother!” Eli snapped. “Thank you.”

She stared at him in shock. “What? He’s not a bad looking guy. I’m allowed to look.”

“Whatever!” he screamed in anger. “I don’t want to know.”

“You haven’t been yourself since you went in to see the doctor. Did something happen?”

He chewed on the flesh on the inside of his mouth and imagined the steam which was probably bursting from his ears.

“Eli?” She looked back and forth between him and the road.

He shook.

“Tell me what’s wrong, baby. Did he say something?” She paused. “Did he do something? I’ll drive right back there and kick his ass.”

“Jesus! Fine!” Eli heaved breath for a few seconds, his skin somehow turning even redder. “He was holding it, and… and…”

“Holding what?”

“My fantastic personality, what do you think?!”

“Eli, calm down, and tell me what happened.”

“He squeezed my junk during the exam, and… and… I popped a boner. Okay?”

Doctor Brian had warned him things like that happened. Eli knew there was no reason to be ashamed about it, but he was still burdened with enough humiliation to fill the Seven Seas. The good doc had been checking for lumpy nuts, when, very suddenly, little Eli leapt to attention. Eli had done a fair job keeping things tame up until that point. The doctor didn’t even react to it, instead, telling Eli that everything looked and felt normal and that he could suit up. They talked a bit about his exam before they called in Eli’s mother, which was so unbearably, painfully awkward for Eli, he couldn’t stand it.

His mother snorted and stifled a laugh.

“Mom!”

“That’s what you’re all worked up about?”

“Shit!” he grunted.

“You know how often that probably happens to him? Jesus, almost every boy your age would get an erection if the wind changed direction. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He hated the way she could be so damned nonchalant and lawyerly about everything.

“Yeah,” he hissed. “He told me all about it.”

She put a hand on his shoulder; he jerked away.

“Elijah, everything was good news. You got a little excited. So what? It happens. And now you don’t have to see a urologist until you’re in college.” She sighed. “At least it was an accident. You don’t want to know what I was thinking when I was sitting in his office.”

“NO! No, I don’t. Please… God.” He tried to put his simmer back to low. “Let’s just forget this ever happened. Please?”

“Okay.”

They drove in silence for a while.

Out of nowhere, his mother smirked. “He gave me his cell phone number.”

“Jesus butt-fucking Christ, Mom!”

She cackled. “I’m just kidding.”

He held the bridge of his nose, trying to find the strength to breathe; there was absolutely nothing funny about this.

* * * * *

Eli was grateful that the last half of the week had gone better than the first half, and that it was only two more periods until the weekend. He had little in the way of homework, and all he had left of his chores was to clean out the laundry room. His plan was to work on it after school, so he could have the weekend free.

Grounded or not, there were a few books that he hadn’t gotten around to, but his punishment dictated where he might find himself reading them. He’d even gotten the itch to finally set up the new PlayStation. He thought that maybe Sunday would have been a good day to familiarize himself with the wastelands of the Fallout universe.

The cafeteria buzzed a little louder than normal. The weather was supposed to be nice that weekend, and Eli guessed that everyone was excited about doing whatever it was that other people did when not at school.

He spotted Chase holding his tray as he walked across the cafeteria with his buddy in tow. Once Joey had recovered from whatever plague he’d managed to dredge up, Chase went back to ignoring Eli.

Eli sighed, propping his head up against his hand. He pushed his finger into one of the soggy tater tots on his tray, smooshing it out into a pancake of white, slimy cubes.

He wanted to be anywhere else at that moment. The full gravity of his urology appointment suddenly hit him, and he could feel himself reddening around the gills. Jacob would have seen him through this, and the one living person who could have been a friend to him, well, he didn’t know or trust Chase nearly enough yet to let him in on the finer details of Eli. Not to mention the whole thing with Chase shutting Eli out whenever Joey was around, it really took the piss out of the cake, or however the saying went.

A loud crack suddenly reverberated across the cafeteria.

Eli sat up straight and glanced around as the din in the lunchroom faded slightly.

“You are such a miserable piece of shit sometimes!”

Eli turned in his chair and spotted Joey towering over Chase.

Chase’s face was expressionless. He stared straight ahead, his eyes slightly glossed over, and his face was rosy. It almost looked as if Joey was poised to deliver a hit.

“Goddamn it!” Joey screamed. “No wonder I’m your only friend. I have better things to do than deal with your bullshit.” Then, he stormed off.

The noise level picked back up. On the other side of the room a group of kids laughed.

Eli steadied his courage—who knew how Chase was going to act when Joey was being an asshole—gathered up his tray and his backpack, and slalomed through the cafeteria to Chase’s table.

Eli set his tray down and slid into the chair across from him. Chase shot him a dirty look but otherwise didn’t move.

Eli ate one of his tater tots and stared back at Chase.

“Don’t,” Chase hissed.

Eli shrugged. “I won’t.”

Chase closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.

“You know he’s wrong, don’t you?”

Chase’s eyes shot open.

“He’s not your only friend.”

His eyes darted around, face softening.

Eli shoveled a spoonful of fruit cocktail into his mouth and chewed.

“What?”

“I said he’s not your only friend.”

Chase slumped back and pulled his hands down his face. He glanced around cautiously, then leaned forward on his elbows. He just shook his head and stared down at the tabletop.

Eli studied him for a moment.

“I lied and told him I was still grounded for the whole keyboard thing.”

Eli nodded him on.

“I’m… worthless. He says I always treat him like shit and that I don’t deserve friends like him. He says I take advantage of his generosity and that it’s always about me. I ruined his plans for the weekend because I told him I couldn’t hang out with him.”

“Chase, you’re not worthless.”

“No, I am worthless. And I’m a horrible friend, and I would be nothing without Joey fucking Walton. I am a horrible person.” He’d said it so flatly, Eli though he was being sarcastic.

“You’re not a bad person either.”

Chase sighed.

“Is that what he said?”

“That and everything that everyone else in the school just heard him screaming.” He picked at the sleeves of his jacket. “I just wanted some time alone. Without him lurking over my shoulder. I thought being grounded would be an easy way out.” Chase sounded sad and deflated, as if he believed everything Joey had said to him.

“He doesn’t deserve a friend like you. Hit me with a keyboard if you want, but friends don’t treat each other like that.”

Chase snapped his head up and locked his eyes on Eli’s. “Nothing is that simple. He’s not a bad person, I just… I was being selfish, and I wasn’t thinking about his feelings. I was wrong.”

“Why do you keep defending him?”

Chase blinked at him.

Eli patted the table in front of him and leaned in toward Chase. “How about this: come over to my place after school. We’ll play some PlayStation, hang out and have my mom order in some junk food. You don’t have to think about Joey at all.”

Chase continued staring into Eli’s eyes.

“Maybe we can get some Blu-rays at the Red Box, and you could crash over at my place.”

“Why would you even do something like that?”

“Like what?”

“Just offer to hang out without even knowing anything about me? Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m this huge fucking loser.”

“Did he call you that? A loser?”

“So what the fuck if he did?”

Eli didn’t entirely understand what was going on with Chase, but he knew he had to do something. “I’m not, like, forcing you to come over or anything, but I think it would be fun. I could use the distraction, and I think you could, too.”

* * * * *

Eli went through his contacts and tapped on his mother’s photo—the one he’d snapped as she was vacuuming the carpet, where her eyes were wide open and she looked like she was getting ready to yell at Eli for ambushing her.

The line rang three times before she picked up. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey, Mom. I have a favor to ask.”

There was a pause. “What’s up?”

“You know the guy who hit me with the keyboard?”

“Yeah?”

“Um, his friend started yelling at him for no reason and just being a jerk to him. I felt bad for him, so I sorta invited him to spend the night.”

Her sigh rattled through the phone.

“I know I should have asked, but I was wondering if I get the laundry room done on Sunday, can he hang out tonight?”

“You know you’re still grounded, right?”

“I know, Mom.” Eli sighed. “If you don’t want him to come over, I’ll call him and cancel. But this other kid was throwing a fit in the lunch room in front of everyone and saying Chase was a bad person and stuff.”

“Wait a minute. Don’t you put this on me, you’re the one who got yourself grounded, Elijah.”

“Huh?”

“If you don’t want him to come over. You’re trying to guilt me into saying yes.”

Eli shook his head. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. Honest! I just thought he needed someone to hang out with, and I think I kinda need it, too. Well, with everything going on.”

Another sigh pierced the phone. “Next time, you ask before you start making plans. The kitchen will also be cleaned from top to bottom on Sunday. I mean, you’re even going to take the dishes down and wipe out the insides of the cabinets and all the drawers. It’s going to sparkle from corner to corner, am I understood?”

“Yeah,” Eli said softly.

“I guess you want me to stop at the store on my way home?”

* * * * *

Eli rushed to tidy up his basement, although it wasn’t all that bad. If things were cool with Chase’s parents, he’d be over at five, and Eli needed to get the PlayStation hooked up to the TV before then.

He dropped his laundry basket in front of the washer and threw the armful of clothing into the machine. Once it had started, he walked across his so-called apartment to fold the blankets on the couch and fluff up the pillows.

Suddenly, a chirping noise caught his attention. He backtracked to his bedroom and walked up to the nightstand; the screen on Jacob’s phone was lit up.

He thumbed in the password and pulled down the notifications menu. Someone had sent a message from E-STAG. He considered throwing the phone aside, but his curiosity got the better of him.

The app loaded up, and the message filled the screen. Suddenly, a feeling of dread overtook him, and he collapsed back on the bed.

DHG: Bobberson strikes again.