William Walter Williams - 1. A Little Horse, Part 1

“Exit 4, Sanitaria Springs,” Lew called out. “Come on, Will, hustle your butt up here, I don’t want to have to pull completely off just to drop you.”

“Why here?” Will asked as he jumped down from the top bunk of the sleeper and reached up to pull down his backpack. The twelve-year-old slipped out through the blackout screen and sat in the passenger seat with the bag between his legs. The truck came to a stop and the familiar hiss of the airbrakes filled the early morning dark, dawn was probably only a couple hours away. There were a few lights in the parking lot of a c-store and a local chicken place on the other side of the intersection. Other than one parked over at the c-store, which might have belonged to the clerk, no other cars seemed to be around. As on most mornings on America’s highways such as this, it was eerily quiet with no perceptible wind. A slight mist hung softly near the ground.

“We’ve been through this before, I’ll be dropping my load in Schenectady and going home for a month long rest and there’s no one available to take you on,” Lew said impatiently. “Now, get your ass out of my truck before I have to use violence.”

Will saw the .45 in the holster hanging from the driver’s seat so he didn’t hesitate to open the door. He moved the backpack so he could stand and turned to climb down. With one hand on the handhold by the door, he moved the backpack close to the door opening and took one last look at the man who rescued him from the multi-car accident on that foggy morning in California where his parents and sister died and then things went crazy.

Blue and red lights were flashing all around as cars and SUVs pulled up, blocking any movement of the truck. Someone grabbed Will from behind and pulled him down onto the pavement. He felt himself being hustled back along the trailer and across the shoulder into a parking lot where he was forced down onto the rough pavement. He turned his head and saw the faint image of a uniform kneeling beside him. Was he a county mounty or DOT? Was this a drug bust or something more sinister? Why all the cars?

He heard a shot, it sounded like the boom of Lew’s .45 and then another one. Then there were other shots from pistols of lesser caliber, more like pops and then the loud boom of something bigger than a .45, maybe it was a shotgun. In the back of Will’s mind a thought formed of bullets piercing the backpack, riddling clothes, books, and papers with holes. That was all he had in the world. All the clothes Lew bought him and the paperbacks he was reading. What was all the shooting for? What had he done? And, then the city horn sounded and wouldn’t stop. What was happening?

He heard the sound of footsteps running around the truck. He turned his head and saw a uniform go up into the truck, while another pointed a gun into the truck.

“He’s dead!” someone called out.

“Sleeper’s clear!” another voice yelled.

“Okay, boy, time to get in the car,” the uniform said as he stood up. Will was roughly pulled to his feet, stumbling from overcorrecting his balance.

“My bag, I’ll need my things,” he said.

“Uh, huh,” the voice said. “Drugs, you mean. We’ll go through it and see what you got in there.”

Will was brusquely pulled and shoved over to a patrol car. In the dim light he saw “Sheriff Broome County” on the door and figured they were going to arrest him, which is what Lew said would happen considering what had been occurring ever since Lew picked him up that warm, foggy morning in the Central Valley of California.

“Hey, he’s ours,” a voice said.

“I was just hauling him in, you can take possession at the office,” the deputy said.

“We’ll take possession now.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Come with me, William,” the voice said.

Will looked up and saw a state trooper; whichever state you’re in they always wear those Smokey Bear hats. This one seemed to have a particular interest in Will, something he was used to experiencing. There was always one adult male out there on the lonely highways who had an interest in young boys. That he was a cop gave Will no assurance of safety. He looked again at the trooper and wondered how he knew his name; something was going on here that had to do with more than the drugs Lew was hauling in the truck. Did they know what Lew had been doing with him all these years?

“My bag, my clothes,” he said.

“Deputy? Where’s the bag?”

“Still in the truck. It’s part of the crime scene, now.”

“William, you stay here with the deputy.”

“Yes, sir.” With all the guns around he wouldn’t think of running. Once, in Wyoming, when Lew parked the truck on a lonely stretched of interstate they got high and Lew took out his .45 to play “shoot the rabbit.” Will, then only nine was the rabbit, but remembered being so high he didn’t think one of those slugs would’ve hurt if it punched a hole through his little, scrawny body. Luckily, Lew passed out before he had a chance to kill him. Lew almost ended up owning that load of apples because he was high so much on that trip.

In the dim light from the c-store parking lot, Will could see the trooper talking to another officer at the truck and then a woman in a skirt and a man in a suit came around the truck. The four of them were talking and then the trooper pointed over in Will’s direction. A chill went through him, he needed a hit. Lew hadn’t given him one yesterday and he was beginning to have that lost feeling like seeing a friend you once knew ride by on his bicycle, but not stopping because he didn’t remember you. He needed the feeling of warmth in his veins as the drug coursed its way to his young brain, but Lew wasn’t going to be able to give him one this morning or any morning ever again. He felt the tears well up in his eyes and tried to brush them out with the back of his hand, but they wouldn’t stop. What was all of this about and why did that state trooper want him? Had they finally found him after all these years? Who had tipped them off? Was Lew really dead? What was to become of him without having Lew to take care of him?

“What’s wrong?” the deputy asked.

“Oh, nothing, you wouldn’t understand,” Will said.

“You’d be surprised what I understand. You know kid, I’ve been around a few blocks in my time on the force. Was he good to you?”

“Yeah, he taught me things,” he said, unbelieving the deputy was that interested in his pathetic life. “Lew made me learn how to read so we could talk.”

“When was the last time you were in school?” the deputy asked.

“I can’t remember,” he said. School? Shit, had he ever been in school? He must have been how old? But, why couldn’t he remember that far back? “I think I’ve been with Lew since I was nine, no eight, yeah, eight; or, maybe it was earlier, I don’t remember. There was an accident. We were on our way to Disneyland and all that other touristy shit in LA. It was foggy and Mom crashed our Caravan into the back of a semi-trailer and we were hit in the back by another semi. I was lucky to get out. Lew rescued me.”

“When did he start abusing you?” the deputy asked seemingly out of the blue.

“Abuse? No, you see, Lew was my friend,” he said. He looked at the deputy and wondered why all the questions. Was it simply curiosity? “I was, well, out of it for quite a while because I was sick and he had to give me injections. Have you ever had heroin? Lew gave me just a little at first because I was so young, but I got better in a month or so.”

Will turned and looked back down at where the trooper was talking to those other people. He wasn’t particularly interested in talking about his life with the deputy, but knew he couldn’t get out of the conversation.

“One night we were in a truck stop over in a corner where there weren’t a lot of other trucks and he did me,” he said as he turned to face the deputy, again. Tears continued to stream down his cheeks. “It might have hurt, but he gave me a hit before doing me. He took pictures of us doing it and sold them. I guess you can make a lot of money from pictures like that, especially when there’s blood and the fact I was so young, but I was high, so it didn’t matter. I liked Lew. He took lots of pictures of me. He always gave me hits before doing me.”

“Deputy how’s our victim?” a vaguely familiar voice asked.

Will turned and saw the trooper standing beside them with his backpack. He wished the trooper would give it to him since there was a bit of heroin in there, just in case of emergencies.

“I think this kid has had it worse than what we were told in the briefing,” the deputy said. “Plus, I think he’s missing his little horse.”

“Yeah,” Will hissed. Well, he was missing his horse. In fact, he was probably going to get the shits pretty soon if somebody didn’t give him some. Why wasn’t the trooper handing him the backpack?

“Oh, shit,” the trooper exclaimed.

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Will hissed, again. He was getting desperate, now. It had been too long. “I know where I can get some, please, just let me have my bag so I can get a little, please. Just a little.”

He turned to the deputy and said, “It’s right there in the bag, unless someone has taken it. Please, let me have the bag. Please!”

He turned back to the trooper and said, “Just one hit, please, just one. I can do it myself, if you don’t know how.”

He dropped to his knees as he felt his bowels loosen, “Please, just one, please.”

* * * *

 

“How are you doing this morning?” the woman in the white lab coat asked. She was sitting across a small table from Will. There was one of those one-way glass windows on his left; a blank, pale green wall behind the woman; and, another one on the right. The door was behind him. “I’m Dorothea Jeffers a staff psychologist here at the hospital. I’ve been assigned to monitor your care while you’re with us.”

“What’s the stuff you’re giving me?” Will asked. “It’s making me feel nervous all the time.”

“We’re helping you get off the heroin.”

“Figures, Lew said that would happen if I ever got caught,” he said as he slouched in the chair, tapping his right foot. “I suppose you’ll be sending me to prison when I’m clean.”

“Why would we do that?” she asked, leaning back in a seemingly authoritarian pose.

“Lew said that’s what happens to prostitutes when they get caught,” he said, looking up at her in defiance.

“Is that what you are?”

“Sure, I had sex with other men and Lew pocketed the money.”

“How much did he pay you?”

“He gave me food, a place to live, and heroin,” he said. He pushed his chair back, but simply resumed his slouch. “He taught me how to read. I suppose it was the horse that kept me with him, but he tried to be nice about. You know, he hardly ever had sex with me after last summer. I guess he didn’t like doing me all that much anymore. Though, I still had to sleep with him now and then when he was missing his wife and kids, but that didn’t happen very often.”

He looked up, stared into her face, and said, “Mostly, he just rented me out to other truckers. I guess he made a sizeable income from that. When will the trial be?”

“There isn’t going to be a trial, Will.”

“Why did you just use my name when no one else has?” he asked, startled.

“Well, I suppose it’s because we actually don’t know your name, your real name. You have a birth certificate and a social security card that identify you as William Walter Williams, but those are forgeries, so we don’t really know your real name. Do you?”

“What do you mean forgeries?” he asked. He stood up and went over to the one-way glass and stared into it. “Who else would I be? I saw Lew send off for those documents when we were at that truck stop in Montana and I saw the envelopes when he picked them up back there two months later. He always called me Will. That’s my name!”

He turned, stared at the woman, and said, “If I’m not WWW, who am I?”

“We were hoping you would be able to tell us. What’s the last thing you can remember of your parents?”

Will turned back to the one-way window and stared at his reflection. His mind fogged from years of heroin use fought through the haze and he said, “It was early in the morning, Mom was driving, it was foggy, real foggy. She ran into the back of a semi-trailer. I was thrown forward and then the, the, the other truck, the one behind, behind, behind us, it hit us and, and, and my seat moved, moved forward, and I can’t remember, I can’t remember.”

He turned back toward the woman and then returned to his chair where he sat down and stared at his hands in his lap. In barely a whisper he continued, “The previous night we stayed at a truck stop in a place called Stockton because there were lot lizards there.”

“Why were you staying at a truck stop? Did they have rooms to rent?” she asked calmly.

He looked up and stared into her motherly eyes. Yes, she was someone’s mother. Who was his mother? But, he was in Stockton that night. Why was he in Stockton? “No, we were in the truck. I was sleeping on the upper bunk and Lew was on the lower one. He was fucking a lot lizard and I peeked because I had never seen a man fuck a woman. I mean it has to be different doesn’t it?”

He stood up, went over to the corner and stood with his face toward the wall. He turned, slumped to the floor and began to weep. Through his tears he said, “Lew had given me a hit to keep me quiet. I was seven, no six I think. No! How could that be if he didn’t rescue me from the accident until I was eight? Who am I? Please! Tell me who I am! Am I really Will? I can’t remember who I am!”

He cried for a long time until the woman finally came and knelt before him. “We don’t know who you are, Will. There’s no record of a boy matching your description on any of the missing children lists.”

“But, you keep calling me Will,” he wept. “Why do you do that?”

“Because that’s the way it will be. We will get a citizenship certificate for you and a social security card that will show your name as William Walter Williams and an arbitrary birthdate. The documentation will come through the U.S. government. It will be like an official birth certificate. Is this okay with you?”

“Sure, I guess. When do I get out of here?” He moved to get up, but the woman didn’t move, so he wiped his eyes with his fingers.

“When you’re no longer addicted to heroin. We’ll be putting you in a special treatment center for children. It’s called Green Meadows and is north of here. You’ll receive psychiatric care and educational assistance to bring your education up to a point comparable with your age. Then when you’re well and can function in society the state will arrange a foster placement for you. Is there anywhere in particular you’d like to live?”

“I don’t want to live in a big city or any city for that matter,” he said as he tried to wipe the tears from his eyes. “Can I get up now, please?”

She moved and stood up, and then walked back to her chair. Will stood up and went back to the table where he sat in his chair.

“A small town would be nice if that would be possible. Some place with a park. I would like to live somewhere I could have a dog. A boy needs a dog. When I was with Lew I never could have a dog, but I met other truckers who had dogs. Do you have a dog at home?”

“No, I live in an apartment,” she said.

“Oh, that’s a shame. Dogs are nicer than people.”

* * * *

 

“Will? You can come in now,” the man said. He was dressed in a light gray suit, a dark blue button-down, and a bright green tie. His shoes were sort of reddish and had squiggly designs on them. Will was sure they had a name, everything had a name, but what these were he had no idea. The man was tall, taller than Lew who seemed to him as being only somewhat tall. He sat in the chair at the desk, turned to face Will who stood just inside the door, and smiled. “Go ahead and have a seat. Anywhere you want is fine. I’m Dr. Felix Fisher and I will be your psychiatrist during your stay here at Green Meadows. Will, go ahead and sit down.”

“Where? There are two chairs and that couch thing,” Will said hesitantly. “Do you want me to sit or lay down?”

“Sit wherever you feel you’ll be comfortable,” Dr. Fisher said softly.

“But, where do you want me to sit?” Lew always told Will where to go, what to do, and now this man was giving him a choice. He wanted a hit, everything was better with a little heroin. He might not be fully addicted anymore, but his life was a mess now and he began to weep.

“Will, come over here and sit in this chair right here,” Dr. Fisher said patting the arm of the chair next to the desk.

“Thank you,” Will said as he sat down. He wiped the tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand. Dr. Fisher handed him small box of tissues and he took one and daubed his eyes. He felt so out of it, so not here with Dr. Fisher, but where could he go?

“Will, I want to formally welcome you to Green Meadows. For the most part you will be here to bring your education up to your grade level, but interspersed with your school day, you will meet with me in the morning three times a week, have group therapy one day a week, and meet with a mental health counselor in the afternoon twice a week. You’ve already met your cottage staff and your educational service leader, so let’s start this session of therapy by talking about what I’m going to help you with. From reviewing your file from Binghamton Medical Center, I’ve determined your diagnosis as conduct disorder compounded by substance use disorder.”

“What’s that mean?” Will asked.

“Unless proven otherwise, your conduct disorder will exhibit itself with aggressive, destructive, and deceitful behaviors and a tendency to violate rules. I’m making this diagnosis based on the fact that you do not seem to have the ability to act in a civilized manner as evidenced in the clinical notes from your stay at the medical center. This may be due to the way that man raised you. The substance use disorder comes from your heroin addiction. The heroin rewired your brain to expect pleasure from its use. What we need to do is find you pleasurable experiences that can help your brain relinquish its dependence on heroin. Now, let’s begin today’s session with a discussion of that man you lived with …”

“Lew?”

“Yes, Lew; did he tell you what to do all the time?”

“Yes, he, he owned me,” Will stammered.

“Did he hit you?”

Will thought back to those early days. When were they? Why was it so hard to think of Lew, now? “Some, though mostly, if he was real mad he would just slap me around a little and shoot me up so I would stay quiet. He wasn’t that bad like a child abuser. Well, he might do me, but he didn’t like doing that too much because my ass was for customers.”

“Will that’s horrible!” Dr. Fisher exclaimed. Will looked at him and wondered if the doctor really cared or was just voicing concern from a professional point of view. “Did he give you heroin every day?”

“Well, yeah, mostly, because I would get sick if he didn’t give me some often enough, but sometimes he would stretch them out as much as possible if money was short and he wasn’t able to get any horse. But, that didn’t happen very often because he usually had a good stash on hand. It was well hidden, too, so the DOT couldn’t find it.”

“Lew sounds like a horrible man,” Dr. Fisher said.

Will looked questioningly at Dr. Fisher and the way his light brown hair was combed across the top of his balding head. His skin was pasty white, but the bright blue eyes were startling. Of all the men he had been with, Dr. Fisher was the first with lips so thin to be almost nonexistent. There was a wedding ring, so he wondered if the man’s wife liked to kiss him with lips like that.

“Oh, no, Lew was the best, except when I had to go to other trucks for tricks. That’s funny, isn’t? Trucks for tricks, tricks for trucks. That’s quite something for a little boy. Don’t you think? Can you imagine a little seven-year-old boy having sex with older men? Sometimes I can’t see in my mind how I could’ve done that.”

Will felt a tear and tried to blink it out of his eye, but felt it trickle down his cheek. He took a tissue and daubed his eye and wiped his cheek. He tried to smile, but couldn’t. When was the last time he smiled? He couldn’t remember. Did he even know how to smile?

“That’s quite harrowing; hard to imagine how you survived,” Dr. Fisher said. Will wondered if this was just an interview or if the doctor cared enough to keep asking these very personal questions. “What do you think kept you going?”

Will thought about that before answering. Lew and all those men, those men who liked to do little boys. “I don’t know; honest, I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong until later when I saw a newspaper article in a truck stop about a little girl who had been picked up by the state police because she was having sex with men. She was ten. I was also ten. But, you know, now that I think about it sometimes when we’d go into a truck stop for the night Lew would call me his little hustler and said we were going to score some big bucks off of my tight, little ass. But, you see I had to do it or he wouldn’t give me any heroin.”

“Are you sure he wouldn’t give you heroin if you didn’t follow his orders?” Dr. Fisher asked pointedly.

“But don’t you see, I had to have heroin or I would get sick and have diarrhea,” Will said. He felt a tear trickle down his cheek, but he just let it fall.

“Did you have an escape plan?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. I was hooked on heroin. I couldn’t leave; I would’ve died without Lew taking care of me,” Will said, sadness filling his voice. “To tell you the truth, there are a lot of bad truckers out there who wouldn’t think twice before killing a kid like me, or that’s what Lew always told me.”

“I want you to think back to the first time Lew had sex with you. How old were you?”

“Oh, geez, I don’t know. Nine? No, eight. No, I was much younger than that. Seven? I can’t remember back that far; it was a long time ago.”

“Will, from what the doctors say, you’re somewhere around twelve-years-old; you should be able to remember something that happened when you were six,” Dr. Fisher said softly. Will looked over at him trying to imagine how this man talked to his family. The doctor continued, “Do you remember being in school when you were six? Come on, Will, think back to a time before Lew gave you your first injection of heroin. Can you remember being in kindergarten when you were five? There would’ve been a lot of kids your age. It might have been fun. Can you think of being a little boy of five?”

“Five? Other kids my age?” Will looked down at his feet as his drug crazed mind tried to go back beyond the heroin to a time when he would’ve been in school. Did he live in a small town where he wouldn’t have ridden a bus to school, but his mommy or daddy might walk him to school? Maybe he was in daycare and rode a yellow school bus from there. A lot of little kids his age, that was an empty memory, but there were things that reminded him of home. In a burst of clarity, he said, “My daddy was short and had a big belly. Mommy laughed at him because he couldn’t work because he did something. What was that? Do you know, Dr. Fisher? No, of course you wouldn’t know something like that.

“Lew was there one day. He gave them a paper bag of money. He took some out and showed it to them. I could see it was a lot of hundreds. He put me in the truck to go for a ride with him. He said we were only going for a short ride around town. I was six, almost seven, it was summer or spring. It was sunny. But, he didn’t take me back home. I was sitting in the passenger seat and I asked him when we were going home and he said my home was with him in the truck. I cried. I wanted my mommy. Lew said she didn’t want me around anymore because she was going to have a new baby because I was a sissy like my daddy. I can’t help it if I liked playing with dolls.”

Will started weeping and took a wad of tissues from the box, but they did little to staunch the flow of tears.

“Will, when I reviewed your file from Binghamton Medical Center it said there was an accident in California and that is when Lew took you into his truck. But, now you say that Lew bought you, which is it?”

“Which is what?” Will asked, confused at the change.

“Was there an accident in California?”

“I don’t remember. Maybe Lew told me that one time when I was high. Could he have done that so I wouldn’t remember my parents?”

“So, Will, are you saying Lew gave your parents a lot of money so he could take you from them?”

“I guess, if that’s what I remember now,” Will said as he struggled with his foggy memories of that time so long ago. “I do remember he poked me with a needle that night before I went to bed and when I woke up in the morning my bottom hurt. He took off all my clothes and stuffed a sock in my mouth. Oh, god, Dr. Fisher, he did it that first night and it hurt a lot. I remember him doing it that first time and I cried. I didn’t want him to and tried to make him stop, but he slapped my face and kept doing it. I was only six-years-old, Dr. Fisher. I was only six-years-old! It seems like such a long time, now, but remembering it makes it seem like it was only yesterday.

“Six-years-old, you said I’m twelve now. What’s six from twelve? Lew never taught me how to do adds and minuses, only how to read. Dr. Fisher, how long have I been having sex with adult men? How many years are between six and twelve? It seems such a long time. Is it ten years? I don’t know Dr. Fisher. Tell me, please.”

“Will, that’s six years; you were with Lew for nearly six years, give or take a month or so.”

Will looked down at the green carpet and tried to think back to that last day with his mommy and daddy. They lived in a small house down by a creek where he sometimes played with his daddy who didn’t work and always drank beer. He looked up at Dr. Fisher who was looking at him.

“Will it’s vitally important for you to remember what happened in your past because memories like that can poison a person’s mind, affecting them for the whole of their adult lives,” Dr. Fisher said calmly. “When we get together tomorrow morning we will explore more of your memories and help you come to terms with them. Okay?”

“Okay, sure, I can do that Dr. Fisher,” Will said, somewhat relieved this session was over. He hadn’t enjoyed remembering what Lew had done to him that first night.

“Good, Will, now go back to your classroom and finish your morning lessons. I’ll see you tomorrow, Will.”

Will felt strange after leaving Dr. Fisher’s office. It was as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders, finally getting back a piece of his true past or maybe it was only the current version of his past. Would he ever remember how it really was? In his reverie a bigger kid bumped into him, nearly knocking him to the floor.

“Hey! Watch where you’re tripping, shrimp,” the boy sneered.

Will stared at the boy, but he turned and continued down the hall in the opposite direction. What kind of boy would go around bumping into littler kids? Was he a bully walking around the center looking for someone to pound?

* * * *

 

That afternoon Will saw that the group therapy room was large with enough room for about ten kids sitting in a loose circle. An adult sat over by the windows and the circle went around an empty rug in the middle of the room. She was slender, youngish, too young to be some kid’s mother, with long, sunny blonde hair and small, thin hands. She was wearing a gray sweater, a light blue skirt, and sandals. There was pink polish on her toenails. All the chairs were full except one. It was beside that big kid who shoved Will in the hall. He went to sit down.

“Uh, uh, shrimp, no skinny freak is sitting beside me,” the boy said.

Will stood still, not knowing what to do other than simply fleeing.

“Julian, that’s not the correct attitude to use with a new member,” the woman said. “Go ahead and sit down, William.”

He sat and waited for something to happen as he had never been in such a gathering before. Before he knew it Julian shoved him off the chair. He jumped up and punched Julian in the nose once and once, again. Julian fell back off his chair and Will in a blind, mindless rage flew on top of him, beating his fists into Julian’s face.

Suddenly, he felt himself being pulled up and away from Julian and immediately went limp. A stocky man in a white shirt and pants came into the room, grabbed his arm, and pulled him out of the room. They went down a hall and into a room that had a small bed with a plastic covered mattress on it.

“You stay here,” the man said. “I’ll get a nurse.”

“Why? I’m not hurt.”

“You need an injection.”

“Oh, thank you, I was wondering when I was going to get one,” Will said dreamily. “Oh, an injection, I haven’t had one of those in months.”

“Oh, crap, a junkie,” the aide said with disgust. “Well, kid, you’re not getting that kind of injection.”

The man left, but soon he was back with two other men. All were wearing those white shirts and pants. One of them was holding a syringe; it had a very long needle.

“Lay down on your stomach and loosen your pants,” one of the men said.

When Will did that he felt his pants being pulled down and steeled himself against the expected assault, but was surprised when the needle sank deep into his hip. There wasn’t the warmth of heroin coursing up into his brain, but the sensation of extreme tiredness. He gave into the feeling and let his mind sink into nothingness.

* * * *

 

“Will, how are you this morning?” Dr. Fisher asked. He sat in his chair and Will sat in the chair where he had yesterday. “I heard you had a little incident in group yesterday with Julian.”

“Julian shoved me in the hall and then pushed me off my chair in group,” Will said. “He’s a musclehead and I was going to let him know I don’t take any shit from kids like him.”

“He had to be taken to the emergency room and needed stitches from where you hit him in the eye.”

“Good, that’ll teach him not to mess with me.”

“Will, that isn’t a good way to deal with other children in this facility. Julian has anger issues.”

Will felt anger boil up in his gut. How was he to feel sorry for that big kid? No, there was no way for that to happen and he said so, “For God’s sake Dr. Fisher, yesterday you said I have something called conduct disorder that will cause me to be aggressive and now you’re saying Julian has anger issues. Dr. Fisher I’ve had sex with adult men. Some have even tried to kill me and if it hadn’t been for Lew I might be dead right now. I’m not excusing him for what he did to me with all that heroin he injected in me, but for God’s sake, Julian attacked me. What am I supposed to do, lie still and pretend to be dead?”

“What do you mean men tried to kill you?” Dr. Fisher asked. To Will he sounded like he was honestly concerned, but how could that be. Adult men were never concerned how he felt; all they wanted was sex.

“Well, when I was little, you know, just starting out, there were some men who liked to choke me when they did me. Oh, god, Dr. Fisher, you can’t imagine what that felt like to have them doing that to me and then have their hands around my neck trying to squeeze the life out of me.”

Will broke down and cried. He pulled his legs up onto the chair in front of him and buried his face in his knees. After a while Dr. Fisher came over and touched Will’s shoulder as if to comfort him.

“Don’t do that!” Will screamed. “Don’t touch me like that!”

He flew out of his chair and stood in the middle of the room, his eyes wild with fear. He looked around and ran to the corner by a bookshelf and sank to the floor. Dr. Fisher went to his desk, picked up his phone and dialed a number. He spoke quietly for a moment and then set the receiver back onto the cradle. Will continued to cry inconsolably.

In a minute two men in white shirts and pants came into the room followed by a nurse with a hypo. One of the men knelt beside Will and grabbed his arm as if to pull him out of the corner.

“Don’t touch me!” Will screamed. He wailed and the other man knelt down and pulled Will’s other arm forcing the boy out of the corner. Both men forced Will face down onto the floor, one loosened the boy’s pants, and the nurse bent over and injected the medicine into Will’s hip. In a moment he visibly slumped from the sedative.

“Thank you,” Dr. Fisher said. He watched the aides take Will out of the room with the nurse tailing behind. He turned to his computer and entered the data of the morning’s session.

* * * *

 

Will waited outside the office of the person who was to be his mental health counselor. Since he’d gotten the injection the day before yesterday at group and the injection yesterday morning with Dr. Fisher, he’d hadn’t been able to be here until today. He wondered what was going to happen after all Dr. Fisher talked to him. What could this person do? The door opened and a woman stepped out.

“Oh, good you’re here; come in, William,” she said.

Will followed her into the office. It was much like Dr. Fisher’s, but there were less certificates on the walls. There was a large, maybe a foot square, color photograph of a boy’s face hanging above the desk. He had black hair hanging down into his steel blue eyes. He was just staring at the camera, not smiling.

“That’s Derek, my son, he committed suicide two years ago,” the woman said without emotion. “He was gay and couldn’t handle the bullying he got at school. Go ahead and have a seat, William. How was group?”

“It was okay; I’ve been getting injections because I’ve been acting out,” Will said as he sat down in a chair beside the desk. The same chair where he sat when he visited with Dr. Fisher. He watched the woman sit down. She was probably in her late thirties, maybe early forties. He didn’t know; it was just a guess. He was surprised that she didn’t sound sad when she told him of her dead son. Maybe two years was long enough to no longer be sad. “Could you call me Will?”

“Sure, Will, I’m Bonita Hidalgo and I will be helping you develop mental skills that will assist you in learning how to control your impulsive behavior. Today I want to start you on learning how to meditate. Have you ever meditated before?”

“No; is it like yoga? I’ve heard about people from India doing yoga.”

“Well, you can meditate in a number of yoga positions, but meditation is primarily used to help a person calm their mind, which is your goal in this exercise. Any questions?”

“What do I do?” Will asked. This was kind of strange, unexpected.

“I want you to sit cross-legged on the floor with your hands in your lap,” she said. “Come on, this isn’t going to hurt and you’re not going to look silly. You can sit down right there. Yes, just like that. Now, shut your eyes and breathe comfortably. As this is your first time, we’re only going to do a body inventory. In your mind, I want you to focus your attention on each part of your body, fingers, hands, wrists, elbows, arms, shoulders, toes, feet, ankles, knees, legs, neck, all the while continuing to breathe comfortably and steadily. Maintain your focus on your body inventory. If at any time you lose focus, pause, take a deep breath, and then continue on. Go ahead and start. I’ll let you know when it’s time to stop.”

No matter what she said it felt silly sitting there on the light green carpet with his eyes shut, breathing as she said, and focusing his mind on his body. He got to his little fingers before suddenly thinking of what he might be having for dinner. He opened his eyes and said, “This is hard.”

“Yes it is in the beginning, but in the long run it will help you to focus your mind. Start again.”

Will shut his eyes and began counting fingers, parts of his hands, wrists, forearms, elbows, upper arms, shoulders, and thought about his breakdown in Dr. Fisher’s office yesterday and having spent the rest of the day in a quiet room. He took a deep breath and went back to counting fingers.

After a while Ms. Hidalgo said, “Okay, Will, open your eyes, take a deep breath, and return to the chair. How was that?”

“Well, it certainly was different, but I feel relaxed now, more relaxed than I’ve felt in a long time,” he said as he got to his feet and resumed sitting in his chair, but before he sat down his eyes were drawn to the picture of Derek. What was it about that boy that intrigued him so?

“Good, now I want you to practice meditating before you go to sleep tonight and every night from now on.”

“Is this all you’ll do for me?” Will asked. Ms. Hidalgo seemed like such a nice woman. He kind of wanted to stay here and talk.

“Would you like to talk about things? I am a trained psychological counselor and that is part of my duties here, but Dr. Fisher seemed to think you primarily needed to learn how to meditate.”

“Darn, figures Dr. Fisher wouldn’t want you to talk to me. I don’t remember talking to my mom as a kid and now the only women I run into around here are staff, but I feel you’re different from them. I just wish I could talk to a woman.”

“Will?”

“Huh?”

“Will, I said I’m willing to talk, even if it’s only about trivial things. How old are you, now?”

“Twelve, why?” He looked at her and wondered, again, how she had talked so easily about the death of her son. The way he was staring out at the camera seemed as if Derek was scared of something. Maybe he forgot how to smile.

“You’re nearly a teenager, soon you’ll be thinking about girls, dating, dancing, and going to movies and things like that.”

“What would you say if I wasn’t going to be thinking about girls?” he asked. He didn’t know why he felt he needed to bring this up, but maybe having a gay son she would understand what he was feeling. “What would you say about me if I said I might want to think about boys?”

“Will, whatever you want is okay with me, but you know it will be hard if you start dating boys, especially with your history with men.”

Will thought about that; all those men and their special needs to have their way with a little boy. What would it be like to be with a normal boy, someone who was just interested in being his friend first and then maybe his lover later?

“Oh, yeah, that. I know normal boys aren’t like those men I was forced to do things with, but I still think I might be gay,” he said as he looked into her maternal eyes. “My only wonder would be if that’s just the way I am or if my brain was somehow rewired because of all that sex I did when I was with that trucker.”

“Will, to be honest, I can’t answer that question,” she said with concern filling her voice. “You will have to discuss that with Dr. Fisher or one of the other staff psychiatrists.”

“Oh, okay. I wonder though, how it would be to have sex in a regular, normal way without the threat of physical violence,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’ve been nearly killed quite a few times by men who treated me as not much more than filth they’d wipe off the boots before walking into their homes.”

“Will, that is horrible,” she said, taken aback by his statement. “Have you discussed this with Dr. Fisher?”

“Yeah, yesterday morning and I freaked out and had to be given an injection. I guess I’m overly sensitive to being forced to have sex, but it wouldn’t be that way with a regular boy, would it? Wouldn’t a normal boy just want to be my friend, first?”

“Usually yes, but like everything in life there are exceptions. I’m sure you’ll find boys who are reluctant to be your friend and are only interested in what you can give them sexually. You have to be wary of boys, but if you look for friendship first, sex will come if the other boy wants it. You may find a boy who will want to be your best friend, but will have no interest in having sex with you. That was Derek’s problem; he always went into a friendship assuming the other boy would want sex as much as he did. The rejections he suffered were almost as horrible as the bullying.”

“Hmm, no, I want a friend first,” he said contemplating the thought of going into a relationship only for sex. Derek must have had a horrible life in school. “Do you think I could find that when I get a foster care placement?”

Will waited for the answer, expecting the worse as had happened with Lew, who was beginning to fade from his memory. It wasn’t that long ago, but it seemed like a lifetime in his young mind. He was still focused on the heroin Lew gave him to keep him in line, but there were other things going on in his mind, like the possibility of having sex with another boy, if only to satisfy his own need for sexual satiation, which he never experienced when one of those men had sex with him.

“Will, your mind is still focused on seeking pleasure from the drug you took. You’re just now maturing physically into an adolescent who will be seeking sex as a substitution to the pleasure you got from heroin. What we need to do is teach your brain that there are other sources of satisfaction other than a rampant desire for sexual pleasure and that’s where I come in. Through me you will learn how to calm your mind so that it can focus on receiving pleasure from sources other than drugs or sex. Does this make any sense to you?”

Will thought about what Ms. Hidalgo just said. Could he expect his mind to seek pleasure from something other than drugs or sex? That was a stretch, especially considering his age. He wanted to believe that it was possible, but was reluctant to expect anything other than what he had experienced so far in his life.

“I don’t know, honest, I just don’t know. When I was meditating for you it felt good, but now I can’t remember what I did to make myself feel that way. Does it get easier?”

“Yes, Will, in time you will seek the solace that mediation offers. The whole point to the exercise is to empty your mind of your daily struggles so that you can cope with the problems you encounter.”

“Good, I was hoping it wasn’t going to be too difficult. Okay, I’ll meditate tonight before going to bed and I’ll come back tomorrow for another session with you.”

“I want to thank you Will for your willingness to try this method of therapy. Now, go ahead and go to your afternoon class and I’ll see you tomorrow after group. Keep up your spirit and please look forward to improving your state of mind.”

Will walked out of the office and left the cottage where Ms. Hidalgo had her office. He walked across the quad to the school building and went into his afternoon classroom. He’d only been there for two and half days and had already had two injections of sedatives from overreacting to stressful situations. In the back of his mind he wondered if, and when, he would get out of here and receive a foster care placement; and, as he thought about that, he wondered where they would send him. He had said that he wanted to go to a small town, but would he get that?

* * * *

 

Will settled into his life at Green Meadows, but continued to have explosive events where his actions were inconsistent with life inside the controlled environment of the psychological treatment he was receiving at the home for children and adolescents. Of course, there were problems due to his mental disorders, but he tried hard to alleviate their impact on his life by concentrating on the practice of meditation Ms. Hidalgo taught him.

That isn’t to say that he didn’t screw up and lose privileges because he did on occasion. After all, he was only a kid of twelve and then thirteen, but still just a kid without any experience in real life. All of his points of reference were based on receiving heroin from that trucker who bought him from his parents and rented him out to other truckers who had the perverted desire to have sex with a young boy. He hadn’t been taught that boys six, seven, eight, nine, ten, and even eleven weren’t supposed to have sex with adult men. It had been his life, just as having heroin injected into his veins had ravaged his young mind to the point where he continued to desire the relief heroin offered long after he was no longer physically addicted to the vile chemical.

The only thing that kept him going at Green Meadows was the desire that one day he would receive a foster care placement and go live in a small town. When he had almost turned fourteen his DSS worker came to him and told him she had a possible placement for him. The family would be coming up to see him on the weekend and he should think about acting appropriately.

After breakfast on Saturday morning, Will was sitting in the dayroom reading a book while the TV was tuned to a sports channel. He wasn’t paying attention because he was waiting for his chance to see these people who were interested in fostering him. After an hour or so, the cottage service aide came to him and said he had visitors down at the center. He placed a bookmark where he had been reading and took the book into his room. As it looked a little chilly outside he grabbed his jacket and went out of his room. It didn’t take him more than a few minutes to walk across the north and central quads to the center building where he went in the back door and down the hall to the lobby. There he saw a man with graying hair in a New York Mets jacket, a heavyset woman in a similar jacket, and a young boy about his age in a New York Yankees jacket. How appropriate he thought.

“Ah, Will, you’re here,” the day service aide said when she saw Will walk out of the hallway. “This is Mr. and Mrs. Roberts and their son Archie.”

“Hi,” Will said, unsure what more he should say.

“Will, come on, don’t be shy,” the aide said.

Will walked over to where those people were standing with the aide and stood nervously before them. For some unexplained reason he felt this wasn’t going to go well. The man had an air about him that made Will think of some of the truckers he had been with in their sleepers. The woman seemed to have an edge that Will couldn’t put his finger on, but he knew if this placement was going to progress to the point where he was going to spend time in their home he had to do his part to make it work. The boy seemed friendly, but that might have only been due to the dominance of his parents.

“William, have you accepted the blessed Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?” the woman asked.

“Uh, no,” Will said, wondering what she had just said.

“Oh, well, there’s time, I’m sure when you come to live with us you will see the Light of His Sanctity,” the woman said.

“Okay,” Will said, afraid this wasn’t going to go as he had hoped. What was all this religious talk? Sure, he had been to chapel on Sundays and at Christmas and Easter, but the visiting pastors never pushed their religion on the residents.

“Will? I’ll leave you to be with the Roberts,” the aide said as she moved away to return to her station at the visitor’s desk.

“Let’s take a walk around the grounds,” the man said, turning toward the double glass doors. “It’ll give us a chance to get to know you.”

“I can’t go to the barns,” Will said just to set his own limits of this visit. “I’m not old enough.”

“Fuck that, if I want to see a cow, we’ll go to the barns,” the man said. He opened the door and held it until everyone had exited.

“Now, dear, they have rules here and maybe Will is not allowed out there for a reason,” the woman said.

“Fuck ’em, that’s what I say,” the man said as he immediately started down a path that would lead to others going to the barns and pastures.

Yes, Will thought, that man had been a trucker at some point in his life. Given a chance, he’d probably want to get Will in some dark corner of their house and screw his brains out. He knew he would get in trouble if an aide confronted him, but what could he do? These people wanted to see farm animals. After a few minutes Will noticed that the two adults were a number of steps ahead of him and he was walking alongside the boy.

“Mom’s a Jesus freak,” the boy whispered. “Dad’s a musclehead. He’s a warehouseman, runs a forklift in a refrigerated grocery distribution center. He used to drive truck, but had to quit when the DOT caught him with some fireworks in his truck. He was bringing them home for me for the Fourth of July, but I guess it’s illegal to haul fireworks across state lines.”

Will didn’t say anything; he was too worried that he was going to get in trouble for being out at the barns. He was already on restriction for acting out in the dining hall last week when a bigger kid took issue with his choice of sliced ham over chicken nuggets. That was the thing about living with crazies; you never knew when one of them was going to get into your space because you were doing something he thought was against his worldview.

“Now, that’s a prime example of good horseflesh if I’ve ever seen it,” the man said when they stopped at a pasture.

Will looked up and out into the pasture. It was full of Holstein cows munching on grass or lying about chewing their cud.

“What kind of horses are those, dear?” the woman asked.

“Tennessee Walkers, I believe,” the man said. “Archie, what kind of horses are those?”

“Dad, they’re milk cows, Holsteins; can’t you see the white and black?” Archie said. “By the look of their udders they’ve been milked recently.”

“Archie! What did you say?” the woman exclaimed. “If we were near a restroom, I would wash your mouth out with soap for saying such a filthy word.”

“What word?” Archie asked, puzzled.

“Udders, you are too young to be talking about such things,” the woman said.

“But that’s what they’re called,” Archie said.

“Hey! What are you people doing out here?” a voice called out.

Will looked up and saw a man in work boots, blue jeans, and a red flannel shirt walking toward them. Oh, shit, he thought, he was in for it now. Being out in the farm area would probably cost his all of his privileges for a month. Dr. Fisher and Ms. Hidalgo weren’t going to like this.

“We’re looking at your horses, but we can’t decide what kind they are,” the man said.

“Who are you?” the farm worker asked.

“We’re seeing this young man as possible foster parents for him,” the woman said.

“You’re not authorized out here, you’ll have to go back to the grounds around the center,” the farm worker said.

“You can’t tell us what to do,” the man said.

The farm worker unclipped his radio from his belt and keyed the transmitter.

“Security?”

“Security.”

“Hey, this is Jerry out at the farm. I’ve got some visitors and a resident out here without authorization.”

“Escort them back toward the center and we’ll meet you on the way.”

“Okay, folks, let’s go back to the center,” the farm worker said.

“Well, this is most unchristian of you,” the woman said.

“Yeah, well, you’re still not authorized out here and besides those are milk cows, not horses. Come on, let’s go.”

Luckily, Will didn’t lose any privileges over that event, or on any of the other visits that those people made to Green Meadows in anticipation of fostering him. In time he was able to recognize them as Frank, Doris, and Archie Roberts, but he was never comfortable with them and wished there was another family who was interested in fostering him.

* * * *

 

Will’s DSS worker, Ms. Bannister, came out to Green Meadows one Friday and Will was sent to the center to meet with her. He was nervous about the visit because every time she came it was to announce another visit by the Roberts and he was tiring of their efforts to foster him.

He went into the conference room and sat down at the table across from Ms. Bannister. She was probably in her fifties, maybe a grandmother, though she didn’t have a fancy wedding ring, just a simple gold band. She had rimless glasses that darkened when they walked outside to talk. For an older woman, she was somewhat slender and he imagined she was good to have sex with.

“I have a bit of good news for you, Will,” Ms. Bannister said. “The Roberts want you to come down to their home in Warnton next weekend for a visit. What do you think of that?”

“Wow, you mean there’s a chance I’ll get out of here?”

“Will, you’re almost fourteen and by the reports I’ve been receiving from the education department here you have achieved educational capabilities to move into the public school system. I want you to concentrate on behaving yourself this coming week and then I will be able to take you down to Warnton Friday afternoon.”

“Is that a small town or someplace big?” he asked worriedly.

“It’s a small town about thirty-five miles from here. I think you’ll like living there.”

“Well, okay, but you know I don’t think I’m going to like living with those people.”

“And, why is that?”

“Well, Mr. Roberts used to be a trucker and he thinks and acts like one,” Will said. “And, Mrs. Roberts is so religious she makes me feel uncomfortable.”

“What about Archie? He’s your age; do you like him?”

“Well, yeah, but I think his parents dominate him too much.”

“Will, what’s wrong? They do have a dog.”

“Yeah, I know, Archie has told me about Rancher. He’s a Doberman and he’s mean if he doesn’t know you. Archie said I’ll have to be careful because Mr. Roberts usually lets Rancher come in at night to protect the house.”

“Well, Will, I’m sure they’ll take you into consideration with Rancher.”

“I don’t know, they don’t seem like the kind of people to take me into consideration about anything,” Will said. He looked at Ms. Bannister and knew she was trying hard to make this go well. He knew there was little he could do about this, so he decided to stop coming up with reasons not to go on this visit. Maybe, once he was down there with them, they would see what a crazy kid he really was and wouldn’t want to have him in their home.

* * * *

 

It was Friday afternoon they were heading east on State Route 104. Will looked at all the apple trees and for some unremembered reason felt comfortable. He shut his eyes and went into a state of mindfulness focusing on each breath emptying his mind of all outside input. His mind’s eye concentrated on the image of many apple trees and he saw a small house sitting in the middle of a grassy plot on land in the midst of an apple orchard. He was a little boy, maybe only five-years-old, and he was sitting on the back of an irrigation ditch. He had a fishing pole in his hands and a man with a large stomach was sitting beside him. One of the man’s hands was softly caressing his back. He looked up into his daddy’s eyes and saw something he didn’t like.

“Will, we’re coming into Warnton, would you like a cup of hot chocolate or something before going to the Roberts?” Ms. Bannister asked, breaking Will’s contact with that hidden memory.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. There were fewer trees and more houses along the road now. He looked over at her and said, “Sure, that would be nice.”

They came into a small town and pulled up in front of a small establishment that had a neon sign over the door that said, “Bud’s Place.” They got out of the car and went inside.

At the counter there was a young man with a ready smile and the weirdest hair color he’d ever seen. It was something between bright green and fluorescent yellow and it kind of made his eyes hurt.

“Hey, Ms. B, what can I get for you today?” the man asked.

“Ernie, I’ll have a large non-fat latte,” Ms. Bannister said. “Will, give Ernie your order.”

“What will you have, my man?” Ernie asked. His smile was a killer, but that hair was worse.

“I’d like a regular size double shot almond mocha.”

“How old are you?”

“Almost fourteen, I think, why?”

“You think? What, aren’t you sure?”

“Will has had an unknown upbringing,” Ms. Bannister said.

“Oh, wow, sorry to hear that. Okay, Will, my man, double shot almond mocha for the teenager.”

“Ernie, we’ll go sit down at a table.”

“Sir, do you have a restroom?” Will asked.

“Over there, through the door marked ‘Restrooms’.”

Will went into the men’s room and stood at the urinal taking care of what needed to be done. Directly in front of him on the wall was “Need some horse? 555-6682 B.” He stared at it and wondered if it was real or if it was a setup by the police. It had been a while, but a little heroin might feel kind of good. Maybe it would make his mind feel better. He finished, put himself together and looked back at the wall. “Have a nice rod for your hole. 555-8932 CY.” That was the last thing he wanted, but the heroin was tempting. Though, how would he get it? He didn’t have a phone. If he wanted to get high, he would have to wait.

Will went out and saw Ms. Bannister sitting at a table in the corner. He sat down and smiled trying to appear innocent.

“Will, the Roberts had a boy living with them a number of years ago, but he died of cancer. He was the brother of Archie. They adopted both boys and look forward to the possibility of adopting you.”

“Do you think I’m skinny?” Will asked to change the subject as he didn’t want to talk about the Roberts.

“I can’t say for sure, but your clothes do hang rather loosely on your body, but maybe that’s because of the clothes you receive at Green Meadows.”

“Do you think it could be because Lew shot me up with horse so much?” Will asked at the very moment Ernie delivered their lattes.

“Will, I honestly don’t know,” Ms. Bannister said.

“Oh, okay, I was just wondering,” Will said. He looked up at Ernie and asked, “Sir, why do you have your hair dyed that color?”

“Because I like it. You have a problem with it?”

Will steeled himself at the unexpected verbal assault. He was just asking, but maybe he asked incorrectly. “No, I was just wondering because it’s so startling.”

“Where have you been living? A closet?”

“No! Please don’t get mad, I’m sorry,” Will said as his mind slowly dissolved into a state of disarray. He didn’t want to go further, but felt helpless as he degenerated into nothingness.

“Will? Will!” Ms. Bannister exclaimed. She reached across the table and took the boy’s hands in hers.

Will heard her and slowly calmed his mind with the exercises Ms. Hidalgo taught him during his meditation sessions. He took a deep breath and looked into Ms. Bannister’s eyes.

“I’m okay now, you can let go,” he said.

“Is he okay?” Ernie asked.

“I think so,” Ms. Bannister said. “Will do I need to take you back to Green Meadows?”

“Green Meadows? I have a cousin who was there; that’s a nice place for kids in need of help,” Ernie said. “You two enjoy your lattes. I’ll be up at the counter if you need anything.”

“Ms. Bannister, do you think I’ll find a friend here?” Will asked. “I’ve never had a friend my age. I’ve never had a friend older than me. I don’t really know how to act around people, other than to have sex with adult men.”

“Will I think you’ll find someone to be your friend.”

“Do you think someone like Ernie could be a friend?”

“Well, yes, I think he could be a good friend, but you should try to find friends your own age, too. I think Ernie would agree with that. Oh, dear, it’s a lot later than I thought. Finish your latte; we need to be on our way.”

* * * *

 

They only had to drive a few blocks and soon pulled up in front of a duplex with a black Ford pickup and a late model green Ford Taurus parked in the driveway. They got out and Will retrieved his overnight bag from the trunk. With a bit of hesitation over what was about to occur, he followed Ms. Bannister up to the front door. It opened without her knocking and Archie stood there. It was strange, but looking at the boy standing in front of him gave Will a sense that he was going to be welcome here.

“Hey, Mom! Dad! Will is here,” Archie called out. “Come in, come in, here let me take that bag. Ms. Bannister it’s nice seeing you again. Hi, Will, I’m glad you’re here, too.”

“It’s nice to see you, Archie,” Ms. Bannister said. “How’re you doing in school?”

“Oh, okay,” he said without a bit of excitement.

“Ms. Bannister, it’s nice to see you,” Mrs. Roberts said as she came out of what looked to be the dining area. “We were in the middle of partaking of the Lord’s bounty and Will looks like he could do with some serious partaking. How are you, Will?”

“Okay,” Will said. He was nervous at her use of the phrase “partaking the Lord’s bounty”? As Archie had said before some of her religion was hard to take.

“Mom can I take Will out and show him the town?” Archie asked. “I’m all finished with my homework.”

“And, what about supper?” she asked with hands on her hips as if threatening him.

“Aw, Mom, we’re having stuffed green peppers,” Archie whined. “You know I don’t like them.”

“Okay, but don’t go far and definitely stay away from the high school,” she said sternly. “I heard in fellowship there is a boy who goes up there and openly smokes Mary Joanna.”

“Mom that’s marijuana,” Archie whined.

“What do you know about it?” she asked pointedly.

“Mom I’m a teen; do you think I live in a bottle? Come on Will, let’s go see the town. There’s not much to it, but I’ll show you the interesting parts.”

Outside Archie turned in the direction Ms. Bannister had driven and soon they were outside Bud’s Place. Will wondered what Archie had in mind.

“Don’t tell Mom, but I need a mocha,” Archie said conspiratorially. “This place is my fave. Tomorrow we can go up to the high school and maybe we can score a joint from Damon. You do smoke, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I’ve smoked a little,” Will said, suddenly uncertain what was going on with Archie.

They went inside, but Ernie wasn’t there. The boy at the counter looked up and said, “Archie what are you doing here? Does your mother know you come here?”

“Heaven forbid that would happen,” Archie said with a smile. “Have you seen Alex?”

“He’s with Damon, I guess, but he should be by later,” the boy said nonchalantly. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, yeah, Steve this is Will who’s going to be my foster brother,” Archie said. “Will, Steve; Steve, Will.”

“Hi,” Will said softly. “Say, Archie, do you have a cell?”

“Uh, no, Steve could Will use yours?”

“Sure, no problem.”

He handed it over and Will looked it over. It was the same model as Lew’s so he headed for the restroom without having to ask how to use it.

“Hey, Will, where are you going?” Archie asked.

“This is kind of private; I’ll be right back,” Will said.

“Don’t drop it in the can,” Steve said.

“Don’t worry; I’m not a klutz,” Will said as he opened the door to the restrooms.

Will went into the men’s room, stood at the urinal, and dialed, 555-6682. He listened to the rings and then it picked up.

“Yeah?” a man’s voice asked.

“I need a little horse,” Will said softly.

“How much you got?”

“Oh, fuck!” Will exclaimed.

“Ah, sounds like you’re new; I’ll advance you a hit, okay? New in town?”

“Yeah,” Will said, regaining his composure.

“I don’t suppose you have a kit, do you?”

“No.”

“Okay, no problem. See you in five at the northeast corner of Second and Highway 104.”

Will went out and handed the phone back to Steve and said, “I got to meet someone at Second and Highway 104. How do I get there?”

“What are you going there for?” Archie asked.

“I need to meet somebody about something personal,” Will said nervously. “Where do I go?”

“I’ll take you,” Archie said, taking a sip from his mocha.

“No, you’ll just get in trouble.”

“Well, I can at least show you how to get there,” Archie said as he took a big sip of the mocha and then put it back on the counter. “Steve, I’ll be back in a few. Don’t throw that out.”

“Sure thing, Archie,” Steve said.

It didn’t take them long to get over to where Archie could point out the intersection. Will stopped and Archie stood beside him.

“Time for you to go back,” Will said.

Archie hesitated, but turned and walked back down the main road. He kept looking back over his shoulder as he walked away. He had no idea what was going on, especially since Will supposedly had never been here before.

Soon a nondescript sedan pulled up and a man came out of the passenger seat. Will stood there looking at him wondering who he was. He was just expecting the driver, not two men. On top of that the man had a scruffy appearance that was off-putting. He stared at Will.

“You’re just a kid,” he said.

“So, give me my horse; I need this bad,” Will said anxiously.

“Oh, well, who am I to judge.”

He took a little packet out of his shirt pocket and placed it in Will’s hand.

“Where’s your kit?” Will asked.

“In the backseat.”

Will hadn’t noticed, but in this short conversation the driver had gotten out of the car and walked around to the side of the car where Will was talking to the other man. Will put his hand on the door handle and felt his other arm being pulled back behind him followed by his other hand. The click of the cuffs told him he was screwed. A block away Archie watched in horror at what was happening.

One of the men opened the door and said, “I’ll take that little packet; now, watch your head,” as he eased Will into the backseat. Will sat there in disbelief that he could’ve been so stupid as to believe that the number hadn’t been a setup. The two men got into the car and the one in the passenger seat turned and said, “It’s not going to look like much on the report, but you’re busted kid. You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can and may be used against you in a court of law; you have the right to have an attorney before and during questioning; you have the right, if you cannot afford the services of an attorney, to have one appointed at public expense and no cost to you to represent you before and during questioning. Do you understand what I have said?”

“Yes, sir,” Will said flatly.

“Too bad you came down tonight, we weren’t working last night,” the officer said. “Of course, you wouldn’t have scored either. Where you from?”

“Over by Rochester at a residential treatment center called Green Meadows,” Will said without emotion. “I was here this weekend for a possible foster care placement.”

“Well, I think you probably fucked that up royally. I can’t see any foster parents wanting a kid who wants to score a little heroin in their hometown.”

“They were religious freaks, anyway,” Will said dejectedly.