Spider Webs - 11. Chapter 11: Jerk

Monday morning dawned bright and clear. I stared balefully at my alarm clock, watching as it hit 5:45. It still didn’t go off. I gave in, sat up and put my feet on the floor; hardly paying any attention to the fact that no green-eyed cat was there to bother me.

My eyes instead fell to Sunday’s paper: “Local woman dies from car accident,” was what the headlines read. She’d left behind three children, and a husband. Her funeral was Wednesday.

I turned my attention away from the paper, pushing away depressing thoughts, and tried to focus on my more immediate needs; like getting dressed for school, and going to the bathroom, and packing Joel’s lunch. I didn’t make one for Reese or myself; hell, I didn’t make one for anyone but Joel.

Because I was still annoyed at the fact that no one had bothered to tell me I had to start a new school today until late last night; and a woman was dead, leaving three children behind, and a husband, and…and the rest of us were expected to continue on, because the world was still turning. I thought that sucked because it wasn’t fair.

That’s how Reese and Joel found me; in the kitchen thinking depressing thoughts.

“Morning,” Reese’s voice chirped. I glanced up from what I was doing; making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, pulled from my depressing thoughts by Reese’s annoying morning attitude.

He got a grunt from me in reply. I hadn’t slept very well.

I threw bread on bread and packed them in bags, passing them to Joel just as Ken came in, dressed in a silly white and black uniform, gold thread circling the sleeves around his wrist and atop his shoulders. A silly looking hat was in his hand, an array of medals decorating his chest.

It was enough to pull me immediately out of my depressing thoughts, just so I could stare at him.

He noticed me staring.

“What?” he asked, looking down at his uniform.

I shook my head. “What’re you wearing?”

“Ken’s in the Navy Reserves, he has a trial today. Some guy getting court-martialed,”Joel supplied.

“Uh-huh…” I looked at Ken. “You’re in the Navy?” I asked. I don’t know why I was so surprised by this fact but I was, and a few things started making sense.

“Yeah,” Ken answered.

I shook my head, still in disbelief.

“Is that a problem?” he asked as Elizabeth came in and sat at the table. Reese passed her and Joel a bowl of cereal, before he grabbed two more bowls and seated himself at the table next to Ken.

I continued shaking my head, grabbed my cup of coffee and checked to make sure my cigarettes were in my pocket.

“No, not at all. I mean, I was a seamen once,” I replied, heading toward the backdoor, “but then my mother gave birth to me,” I finally cracked.

Whatever Ken’s reply got lost in Elizabeth’s loud snort; milk came out of her nose. I got through the door and stayed out on the back porch, chain-smoking until Joel brought me my backpack and told me it was time to go.

---

Central Kitsap High School

That’s what the sign said above the large brick building, orange and black paneling running beneath it next to windows. A security camera hung to the left, above the bushes that sat next to the stairs leading to the entrance. Patrick was there, waiting for us.

And by us, I mean Reese, Elizabeth, and myself. In the distance, I could see a stretch of water, distracting me from the cheerleader wearing a horrible clash of orange and black that, in my opinion, did no justice to her form.

“Welcome to Central Kitsap High School!” Reese sounded happy, “You’re a cougar now!”

I wasn’t going to be a cougar.

And, apparently, neither was Patrick. At least, that’s what I was getting from the woman leaning on the counter, explaining to Elizabeth that, while our records had been received, we still needed to take placement tests.

“I thought you were a student here?” I asked Patrick, who was sitting next to me.

“No,” his answer was short. He seemed distracted by something.

“Oh. But you came to school with them last…”

He finally looked at me. “To drop off my school records, and take a tour of the school,” he explained. That’s when I felt stupid, remembering suddenly that he had been living in Wales before this and now he wasn’t. He was living here.

“So…”

“So you two apparently have to take some tests so they can place you properly,” Elizabeth muttered, looking disgusted as she came over to us, looking at a nice gold wristwatch, and tapping her foot impatiently.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. Class.”

“Ok…well…you should probably get going then,” I suggested, slightly annoyed because she felt like she needed to hold my hand, as if I was a little boy on my first day of school. She wasn’t my mother.

She nodded. “I’ll come get you at lunch and take you back to the house. You should be done by then,” she announced as she rushed off.

I almost called her on the cellphone that was in my pocket, poking me in the leg when the big bald man with a belly that hung several inches over the belt holding his pants up came in and led Patrick and me off to the counseling offices to take our tests. But I doubt she’d have liked it if I did call her up, just to make fun of him. Besides, I probably would have hurt the man’s feelings.

The bell rang, signaling the end of another class period. I set my pencil down, signaling to the proctor that I was finally done with the placement test plus a personality test and general career choice questions that had been added to the mix.

As I had been instructed, I left the tests and questionnaire with the secretary and found a seat. Patrick wasn’t out yet. I let out a groan of boredom and plopped my backpack onto the seat next to me, wondering how long before Elizabeth would be there to get me. If everything went well I would supposedly have my schedule tomorrow or on Wednesday.

This led to the question of why I even cared. It’s not like I really wanted to go to a new school, a new face in a crowd of sheep that all did as they were told, without question. I’d have been happier in a bed somewhere, sleeping my day away. I yawned, raised my hand until the secretary looked at me. “Yes?” she asked.

“Is there a bathroom somewhere?” I asked, tired of staring at the determination poster, some guy lounging in an office chair with his feet on the desk, hanging on the wall.

“Yes, you go out those doors, walk straight and take a right. You’ll run right into them,” she replied.

I nodded my thanks and grabbed my backpack, following her instructions. I was almost to the bathroom when a bunch of kids that looked like they belonged on an athletic team exited, laughing at something. The loudest boy was the one that I’d hit the other night. They didn’t see me as they dashed quickly around the corner in the opposite direction. A tall brown-haired kid who looked slightly annoyed at something followed behind them slowly, walking at his own pace. He saw me and gave me a quick glance that said he knew me but didn’t say anything to the others. Not that I would have cared.

Although, I would have liked to know what was so funny, considering I could have used a good laugh. But there were no laughs to be had as I entered the bathroom and heard someone sniveling in one of the stalls.

I almost knocked on the door to ask if everything was okay, but found myself hesitating. Involving myself in other people’s business would mean talking to people and letting them think that I cared, when I probably didn’t and wouldn’t.

No, it was better to just mind my own business.

That didn’t mean minding my own business though as I exited the bathroom and heard several guitars playing, followed by voices crooning, quite loudly. I followed the noise and promptly found myself on the balcony of the auditorium.

I wasn’t alone either. A blond kid I recognized as Ben was up there with me, standing next to an even blonder boy that I realized quite promptly was Patrick. They were leaning with their elbows against the balcony railing, idly talking as the guitars picked up pace, a distinct country twang rolling through the air.

Ooooh, Do you remember when.

Oh now…Do you remember when.

Do you remember

Do you remember when.

Do you remember

The voices chorused, soft and fading. There was no lead, and I discovered the reason as I moved farther onto the balcony where I could see the stage. The reason why was because there was an open microphone sitting on the stage.

I studied them carefully, realized I knew at least two of them, and recognized the other three from Friday night’s smack down at the bonfire. They’d all been sitting with Ben when I’d been dragged onto the beach by Lissa, who was at the back of the stage, pounding away on a drum set with mad skill, like she actually knew what she was doing. Stacey was also on the stage, playing keyboards.

I didn’t know any of the boys playing the guitars and…I gulped, swearing it was a banjo. I wasn’t sure though, as I had only seen one. Once.

The music came to a stop. “Where is he?” I heard someone asking. “He said he’d be here.”

Another boy shrugged. “I don’t know, but he better show up. This was his idea, after all.”

I had no idea who he was, and wasn’t sure I cared, either. The answer though was Reese, appearing on stage with a guitar, his hair soaking wet like he’d just gotten out of gym class.

“Sorry I’m late,” he panted, sounding funny.

“Hi’s” and “about time’s” greeted him as he started warming up his guitar. He looked slightly miserable. I was greeted with my own “hi” as I turned around, ready to sit down. Ben was standing behind me, an easy grin on his face.

“I’m Ben,” he informed me, holding out his hand for me to shake. I ignored it.

“I know,” I answered, moving around him to sit down. My leg was aching, which, I realized, was a bit surprising because I think the last time I’d felt it ache was Friday night when I’d been carrying Patrick on my shoulder.

Patrick sat down next to me but didn’t say anything. Ben gave me a glance. He didn’t say anything either as he pulled out an iPod, plugged up his ears. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a couple of balloons and, moving off to the side of the balcony where there was room, positioned the balloons in front of his waist. His eyes closed.

I didn’t pay him any more attention as the music started up again. Reese wrote something down and pushed the pen into his left pocket, before taking his place at the microphone. He opened his mouth, and I watched with interest as, rather than a note coming out, his face turned an interesting shade of red, and nothing happened.

Like a fish out of water he closed his mouth, opened it again. Nothing happened. A look of horror crossed his face. The music stopped.

“Dude,” some kid said, “Why aren’t you singing?”

Reese still looked like a tomato. “I…I…”

“C’mon, let’s try it again. You should have said you didn’t remember the song,” the same kid said again. He placed a music stand with sheets of music down in front of Reese. Reese didn’t say anything, just nodded his head. I stood up and walked to the rail, leaned against it with interest.

“From the top guys,” the kid said again. “1…2….uh 1..2..3..4..”

The scene replayed itself. Only, this time Reese managed to get notes out. Notes that went up and down the range of every scale I knew that was known to man, and some, I’m sure, weren’t even on the scale, or could even be considered notes. I burst into laughter as the music stopped.

“Dooood…” the kid said. He sounded exasperated.

“I…I--” Reese sounded horrified.

“This fucking sucks. You’re all a bunch of amateurs,” the kid interrupted.

“Don’t be a dick, Derek. It happens to everyone,” Stacey said.

“We have a fucking gig in less than a month,” he growled out, looking tense. “There’s no way we’re going to make it. He can barely play the guitar, and now he can’t even sing. Good luck, losers,” Derek said. Apparently he was finished with his tirade, because he unplugged his guitar and left.

Reese groaned. “What a shitty fucking day,” he muttered, his voice cracking in the middle of his sentence. Another kid looked up; he looked just as upset as the first kid did. Reese pulled out his pen and fiddled with it, wrote something down. I suddenly realized there was something else wrong with this scene. Derek had been right. Reese was an amateur. I found myself interrupting the scene below before it could finish playing out on the stage.

“Hey! Reese! You’re left-handed?” I shouted.

Reese looked around, seeming confused. I leaned over the balcony rail.

“Up here!” I hollered.

He finally looked up.

“What?” he shouted.

“You’re left-handed, right?” I hollered back, laughter bubbling up in the back of my throat, because Reese, it seemed, was going through puberty.

He looked confused. “Yeah,” he responded.

His answer set me to laughing again. I tried explaining why I was laughing, but couldn’t seem to stop laughing. A hurt look appeared on Reese’s face. I ignored it, shook my head and turned around, ready to leave. I’d try explaining it later. Just as soon as I could stop laughing, which was right now. Because I had walked into a tall body. Hands caught me at my shoulder as my face landed against a very firm chest. A slight musky scent filled my nose. Patrick-In-A-Blanket. My hands wrapped automatically around a waist. I pulled back slightly. I definitely wasn’t laughing anymore. Narrow green eyes were peering into mine.

“Have you always been a jerk?” Patrick asked, “Because I’m getting tired of it.”

“I don’t know,” I shot back automatically. My head cocked to the side, curious. “Have you always been in love with Reese?” I had no idea where that came from but, even as I said it, I thought about it, and decided that there was some truth to the words. Patrick was always hanging around; there were photos of him and the Windletons on vacation, and…it just seemed like the truth to me.

Patrick dropped his hands from my shoulder, took a step back. He wasn’t looking me in the eyes anymore. I let him go. “He doesn’t know,” I found myself stating, answering my second question before I could even ask it. Patrick turned, looking ready to run away. I could understand the need to run away. Unfortunately, I was stuck here.

For Joel.

I grabbed Patrick’s wrist, pulled him closer and turned, pointing once more at Reese who was no longer paying any attention to us. Reese looked awkward, the way he stood there holding his guitar, fingering strings. Derek’s accusation of Reese being barely able to play the guitar rang in my head. Amateurs.

“He’s left-handed, playing a right-handed guitar,” I remarked. Then I let go of Patrick and walked away, tired of sitting in a school that I wasn’t enrolled at while waiting for Elizabeth to come get me. So I walked right out the doors, past a junior high school and through the parking lot of the mall that had started this entire mess, my eyes wandering freely when I spotted one place I’d probably never set foot in if given any choice.

A bookstore. I went in; and then walked around until I found everything I was looking for.

Patrick was outside, standing in front of his car when I came out laden with a newly bought psychology book, landscaping books, another book on puberty and, after rearranging things in my bag when I saw him standing there, a book on Wicca.

That book was why I was frowning at him, considering he’d called me a jerk. I decided he wasn’t waiting for me and, going with that thought, pretended I didn’t see him. Patrick must have gotten the hint, or perhaps he was there to get books too because I ended up walking all the way to the Windleton’s house.

After disarming the alarm, I made my way to Reese’s room and set the book on his bed, deciding that, whatever it was he was going through, I didn’t really want to discuss it with him. But the book, at least, had some suggestions for boy singers going through puberty. I bookmarked that section for him. My good deed done for the day I set everything else in my bedroom and left the house, not quite sure where I was going. I just didn’t want to be stuck inside the Windleton’s house by myself for the rest of the day. My feet led me right to the abandoned house.

It was the sight of the sagging porch; its roof looked more than ready to fall off the house that had me stopping in my tracks, cursing left and right. Cursing because I should have been paying attention, and I hadn’t been. That boy Ben had been up there on the balcony with us when I’d asked Patrick if he’d always been in love with Reese, and I hadn’t exactly been that quiet about it. I had messed up, and I wasn’t sure there was anything I could do about it.

Patrick’s words, asking me if I was always a jerk, came to mind. I shrugged my shoulders, my sweat-soaked shirt clinging to me briefly before I pulled it off and decided that no, I didn’t really think I’d been acting like a big jerk lately.

I spent two hours pulling weeds and, after finding a saw in the Windleton’s barn that passed as their garage, cut down branches growing around the foundation of the house. Then I went inside, continued pulling down wood-panels. Patrick’s voice bothered me the entire time. It left me feeling… I’m not sure how I felt as I came to another answer entirely.

I was sitting on the ballroom floor, absentmindedly staring at the west wall with its large fireplace when Ken found me. I’d managed to get the wood-panels off the rest of the north wall and had started on the west wall, which was almost done. Once I’d gotten into it, everything had flown by quickly.

“What’re you thinking about?” Ken asked.

I pointed to the left side of the fireplace. “Windows, right there. Large ones, to let in sunlight.” My finger moved, pointing to the right side of the fireplace. “And large sliding doors right there. It’ll let out into the backyard. Perhaps a brick patio,” I mumbled, still thinking about it in my head. “I can build a large trough that wraps around the patio, like the one in the sun-room; add potting soil and plants, a fire-pit, or something. Maybe even a water fountain.”

I nodded my head decisively, the image clear in my head.

“Sounds like a lot of work,” Ken said. I looked at him, nodded my head and frowned. Ken was wearing a business suit now. He looked sharp.

“Hi guys.” Elizabeth’s voice distracted me. I looked away from Ken and found Elizabeth standing in the ballroom, looking around curiously at the mess in the room. I’d found out the day before that Ken had started the mess first, though. After reading the newspaper about the woman’s death and her funeral being on Wednesday, I’d made my way out here to find him working on it. I moved to get up and found Ken holding his hand out. Without thinking about it, I took his hand. As he helped me up, I felt something thick between our grip.

“Looks good, guys,” Elizabeth’s voice sounded muffled. She was looking at the north wall, her back to us. I looked at what I was holding in my hand. It was a wad of cash.

I was still staring at the wad of cash when Elizabeth turned around. “Micah, why do you have a bunch of cash?” she asked, flabbergasted.

Ken opened his mouth, probably to cover up my crimes.

“It’s okay,” I mumbled, not quite looking at Elizabeth. Ken either, for that matter. I went back to staring at the west wall.

I took a deep breath. “I was blackmailing Ken,” I finally said aloud. My heart was beating loudly in my ears. My face was extremely warm.

“Oh?” she asked, her voice seeming to deepen as she stared at Ken. Probably wondering what he’d done that I could blackmail him with.

“Yeah.” My body was stiff now. “I made him pay me. Told him it was the only thing that would stop me from running off in the middle of the night.”

Despite the fact that I was staring at the west wall I still saw Elizabeth’s look turn into a glare. I looked down at my feet, feeling slightly ashamed of what I’d done. I held out my hand to Ken, offered him the money back.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Are you really?” Elizabeth asked, her voice sounded funny.

I nodded. Still couldn’t look her in the eye.

“Take it, please,” I begged, looked up at Ken.

He was smiling at me.

“It’s yours, keep it,” he replied, looking at his wife.

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have…uh…blackmailed you,” I argued back.

Ken sighed. Elizabeth still hadn’t really said anything.

“The money is yours, Micah. The state pays us to take care of you and Joel. I wasn’t going to say anything about your, uh, blackmail. Hell, I didn’t say anything because I was going to give the money to you anyways. I already set up a bank account for Joel,” Ken finally explained.

Elizabeth was looking at Ken now. It didn’t help that she still looked pissed, but, she wasn’t looking as pissed off now as she had been earlier.

“If you would like, I can set up a bank account for you too,” Ken finally said. “However, I’m only paying you the three hundred we agreed upon once a week. Everything else is going…well, into a savings account, I guess.”

I snorted, shook my head. “Why don’t I feel any better about what I did?” I asked.

I should have been relieved, finding out that the state was paying them to take care of Joel and me, but I wasn’t. It went right back to Patrick telling me I was a jerk. This time it was Elizabeth’s turn to sigh. She stepped forward and hugged me. I stiffened, even more uncomfortable now than I had been before.

“Because now you know that we know that you know that what you’d done was wrong, and…you confessed. We forgive you. Just don’t do it again.” She let go of me.

I exhaled.

“You should still take it though. Consider it a payment on all that cash you spent buying my clothes?” I suggested.

Ken looked agreeable to that suggestion.

“No,” Elizabeth said, “Those were gifts, from us to you, and I’m feeling slightly insulted that you feel like you need to pay us back for that. You don’t, you know.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled. I hadn’t meant to insult them. At least, not now anyways.

“So… bank account, then?” Ken asked. A hand landed on my shoulder, lightly squeezing. Trying to be comforting.

I shook my head. “Nah, well, not yet. I need a roll-off dumpster,” I said, instead.

Ken raised an eyebrow. It was unsettling, the way he looked like Patrick all of a sudden, with his upraised eyebrow. It was the first time I realized that Ken had green eyes, too.

“What do you need a roll-off dumpster for?” he asked.

It took me a moment to answer. I was still unsettled by that look on his face that was so reminiscent of Patrick.

“Uhm…the roof…” I said, once I got my tongue to start working again.

“The roof?”

I nodded my head, as if the answer should be obvious.

“Yeah, we shouldn’t have started working in here first thing. The roof leaks. There’s water damage upstairs and in here. It’s going to be a bitch to clean up, much less get the rest of the furniture out of this house, but…we should have done the roof first, before the rain comes back…” I stopped.

Ken and Elizabeth had thoughtful looks on their faces, even as Elizabeth told me to watch my language.

“I mean, I don’t know if it rains as much here as it does in Oregon but…”

Ken nodded his head, “Yeah, it rains a lot here, once summer’s past. We might have a week or two before it starts up again,” he said.

“Okay…so, yeah…we need a roll off, plywood sheeting, ice and water barriers, more underlay…” I found myself relaxing, becoming animated, my hands moving around as I continued to talk, comfortable with this topic because I knew something about it.

Unfortunately, I think I lost Ken somewhere, because he was looking at me, confused. I stopped talking.

“You okay?” I asked.

Ken shook his head. “How about I order the roll-off and then we go to the hardware store and you can just…get what we need?” he asked, looking like he had finally decided something.

I shrugged. “Sure,” I replied.

“How about we figure out what’s for dinner first? It’s almost six,” Elizabeth interjected.

I just looked at her, surprised that it was so late.

“See.” I pointed to the left of the fireplace. “Windows…” Moved my finger, pointed to the right of the fireplace. “Doors.”

Then I walked away. Elizabeth and Ken looked at the spots I’d just pointed out before following me out of the house. I used my shirt to shut off the lights, not wanting to electrocute myself.

“Dinner?” Elizabeth asked, wanting to know what we were having.

“Ribs, mashed potatoes and corn,” I replied over my shoulder.

“After you shower,” Elizabeth suggested.

“Only if you two promise not to cook,” I shot back, trying to make it sound like I was joking. Didn’t want someone calling me a jerk again.

Ken laughed. “It’s a deal,” he replied.

Reese and Patrick were in the living room when I walked in. Reese looked up from the guitar he was playing and immediately got a funny look on his face when I walked in. I almost asked him if he’d gotten the book I’d bought for him but decided against it. His flushed cheeks gave away the answer almost immediately. I just smiled at him and, using my shirt to wipe the sweat off my body, walked up the stairs. I ignored Patrick and the look he was giving me the entire time.

He’d probably just end up calling me a jerk again, anyway.

---

I should have been at school, in the counselor’s office getting my class schedule and, you know, actually attending class. Not sitting in a graveyard in the suit that Avery had given me.

Patrick was sitting next to me, having taken it upon himself to skip school with me when I’d come out of the bathroom, no longer wearing the clothes I’d worn to school that morning.

Mom’s guitar was sitting between us. Elizabeth had told me to bring it to school with me today. I’d been too tired to argue with her, much less even ask why. Ken had taken it upon himself to let me drive his Ferrari last night, insisting that I needed more practice. That had occurred after we’d gotten some more roofing done. I hadn’t argued with him, especially after realizing he had no unpleasant surprises in store for me. I’d even go so far as to say I had managed to relax and actually have a good time with him.

Patrick still wasn’t talking to me. I decided that this time it was because I had actually told him to shut up when he’d informed me I was going to get in trouble for skipping class. I had, however, managed to get into his car without too much fuss.

I only slugged him once. That was because he’d threatened to call Elizabeth and tell on me.

I still told him where we were going though. A quick stop at his house where he changed his clothes and talked to his grandmother finally led to us getting here, at the church where they were holding the woman’s funeral services. Sitting in the graveyard.

Because I couldn’t bring myself to go into the church.

Patrick got up, pulling my attention from the two gravestones I’d been staring at, and wandered off.

“Try not to rile up any ghosts with your evil ceremonies,” I mumbled, back to aggravating Patrick. Unfortunately, my heart wasn’t in it, because I’m sure I could have come up with a better insult then that.

Instead my fingers continued to strum the guitar; Eric Clapton’s ‘Tears in Heaven’ offering a strange counterpoint to the song ‘Amazing Grace’ that was being sung in the church. It didn’t stop me from playing though. My eyes strayed back to the two tombstones.

The services were coming to an end when Avery Hayes plopped down next to me.

“I see you didn’t make it to school today,” he remarked.

I knew he didn’t need an answer but provided one anyways.

“Nope,” I offered. I went back to staring at the two tombstones and continued playing.

Linda Hayes
1965-2007

“My sister and…” Avery remarked, apparently wanting to kill the silent conversation I was having in my head about asking about them.

“Oh,” was the only thing I could think to say. “I thought it was your wife.”

Avery shook his head. “Nope, I’ve never been married, and I don’t have any kids, except Andy. I’ve been raising him since his mom, my sister, died.”

“Oh,” I said again, frustration rising because I sounded like a broken record. I had a question that I wanted to ask. I just couldn’t seem to figure out a way to ask it, without sounding like an ungrateful douche bag, anyways.

I decided to go with my usual tact and plunged in head first, so to speak.

“Why did you want me?” I asked.

Avery cocked his head to the side. I finally looked at him; saw that he was considering my question. “I think...because we were getting along, and I’m getting old. I have very few regrets in my life. The lack of children to call my own is one of them.”

I considered this and ended up frowning. That was stupid, and I was going to tell him so.

“You’re not old, you know that right?” I ended up saying instead. Yeah, I decided I’d be nice and lie about the fact that I did consider him old.

I guess I didn’t do a good job of it though because he let out a loud, boisterous laugh that I hadn’t heard come out of his mouth before. Something in my tone must have tipped him off that I clearly thought forty years old was, in fact, ancient.

“Thanks, I think.”

“Dating anyone?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Haven’t had time,” he explained. I looked at him, clearly wanting more information.

He nodded his head, seemed to reach a decision on something.

“Between raising Andy, my job, and trying to find the drunk-driver that killed my sister and put Andy in the hospital, I haven’t had time…I’ve just been…too busy.”

I frowned, startled. That sounded…wrong, somehow. It also explained why Avery was always so tired.

“How’s Andy doing?” I asked instead. My eyes flickered toward the church. I couldn’t help myself. “It must be hard for you, being here.”

The people in the church were coming out. Pallbearers were carrying the woman’s casket.

“Andy’s fine. It was touch and go for a while there, at first…but… he’s fine, he’s away, doing college and all that. And no,” he stopped and frowned suddenly, as if realizing something. “It’s not as hard as I had thought it would be.”

“You?” he asked.

I shook my head. Having asked him that question had forced me to think about what my own answer would be.

“No.”

I nodded my head toward the family that was coming out of the church behind the casket. The man in front was crying, holding onto his son. Two girls were clinging to each other.

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” I asked.

Avery looked at them, thoughtful. “I don’t know…” he said before nodding his head decisively.

“Yes, I think they will be,” he replied, changing his mind.

“How do you know?” I asked, curious.

Avery looked at me and smiled sadly. “Because death is a fact of life. It can be horrible, sometimes cruel in the way it greets us, but it can be very peaceful as well. But death isn’t alone, Micah. It has a companion in life and whether we like it or not, life still goes on for those of us who have been left behind. While we ourselves may end up standing still, sooner or later we’re forced to move on. We continue to grow. At least, that’s what usually happens.”

Avery pointed at the family. “They’ll grieve for a while, stand still. There will be good days and bad days. But sooner or later, they’ll start moving on. They won’t ever forget the love they had for their mother. He won’t ever forget the love he had for his wife. They’ll end up remembering all the good times they shared with one another; they’ll share more good times between them, and that is how I know they’re going to be okay.”

I didn’t have anything to say to that. I was too busy trying to understand everything he’d just told me. But I think I knew what he meant by standing still while life continued to move on around me.

I looked back at the gravestones, but more in particular at Linda’s gravestone, and I think that’s when I also realized that, aside from Patrick, whom I still knew very little about; I also knew next to nothing about the people whose lives had been intertwined with Joel and mine.

“It’s for you,” Patrick said. I looked up and watched as he approached Avery and me, holding out his cellphone for me to take.

I took it, asking, “Who is it?” as I did so.

“It’s Elizabeth,” Patrick informed me.

I looked at the phone. I could hear Elizabeth’s voice coming through it.

I decided I didn’t want to know how pissed off Elizabeth was.

“It’s for you,” I said, holding the phone out for Avery to take.

---

“I heard he decked …”

“I heard he’s Reese’s brother, was in prison for attempted murder.”

“Who cares? He’s hot.”

“I heard he had sex with a teacher at his last school…”

“I heard…”

I ignored the rumors floating behind, that were about me as I stalked my way down the hall, glaring at anyone who got in my way.I was back to being pissed off. Patrick was walking behind me as we followed our ‘guide’ down the halls of the school on Thursday afternoon.

Why was I pissed? Because Patrick had been in every single one of my classes so far, and the way things had worked out, that meant sitting next to him. Including the swimming class I had elected to take on one of the forms I had filled out.

Why swimming class? Because physical education was a requirement for all three years of high school. I’d decided that swimming wouldn’t be as painful as any actual gym class. Needless to say, seeing him naked under the showerhead had been more…well, it was more than I could handle. I’d elected to not take a shower that morning with everyone else in the class.

That’s about when I’d started to get mad though.

No, it wasn’t because Patrick was in every single one of my class either.

I glared down at my schedule again, looking once more at the very last class of the day. ‘Rock Choir’, though I had no idea what rock choir was. But that didn’t bother me either. I liked music. I enjoyed playing my guitar and singing. No, what pissed me off was the fact that E. Windleton was staring in bold-lettering right back at me, under the heading ‘Instructor’.

I’d lived there for a little over two weeks, had been enrolled in this school since Tuesday afternoon, and even though I’d skipped school yesterday to go to a funeral, I’d had no idea that Elizabeth was a teacher.

One of my teachers.

Okay, fine, I admit it. Lissa had said something about it on the beach, but the fact had completely skipped my mind, and I was extremely disgruntled over it. I growled at the ‘guide’ when he stopped at a door to a classroom. Another student in this class would be volunteered to lead us to our next class.

Patrick tapped me on the shoulder, gave me a look that I took was meant to mean ‘behave’. I growled right back at him. He smirked and passed me. The kid ran off as I stalked into the room right behind Patrick and approached the teacher’s desk, waiting with him as student after student after student filed into the room and their seats.

As expected, there were only two chairs left, right next to one another at the back of the room. The bell rang, signaling the beginning of the next class. I groaned as the teacher stood up and handed Patrick and me our schedules back, telling us those last two chairs would be for us. And, just like every other class I’d gone to so far, the teacher cleared her throat.

“Ladies and gentlemen we have two new students joining us.” She announced, “Would you two like to introduce yourselves?” she asked.

Patrick gave me a look. I ignored it.

“No,” I answered, surly. I decided to ignore the uplifting of Patrick’s lips that said he wanted to smile. I didn’t know why though. Surely, it wasn’t that funny, because I’d given the same answer in every other class we’d been in today.

Just like in every other class Mrs. Whatever-her-name-was looked at me; her mouth opened and closed like a fish, startled. I decided to ignore the urge to giggle like a mad man that was coming over me and found my seat, half the class looking at me while giggling. The other half looked startled, as if they couldn’t believe I’d just said that.

“I apologize for my companion, he’s a tad bit cranky today,” Patrick said into the silence. “His name is Micah, mine’s Patrick, and it’s a pleasure to be here.”

I snorted. It wasn’t feeling very pleasurable. Patrick sat down next to me. I looked at him and, just like I had in every other class, said, “Stop apologizing for me. If I was sorry I wouldn’t have said it.”

“Cranky pants,” he muttered with a smirk.

I scowled, went back staring at the front of the classroom, more in particular the teacher, who looked like she’d just been hit by a bus. I was telling her with my eyes to hurry up and get on with it. She wasn’t taking the hint. I let out a small groan and put my head on the desk.

“Hi Patrick,” I heard someone whisper. I looked up. Ben was waving, along with Stacey and Lissa. Lissa gave me a thumbs up accompanied by a wide grin and a wink. I put my head back on the desk. The teacher finally got on with the lecture while I tried to remember what class this was, too lazy to look at my schedule. English class. I was in English class.

I glared at the clock until it hit 12:30 and the bell rang. I had lunch from 12:30 to 1:30. Then it was Elizabeth’s class. I was on my way out the door to find the cafeteria when Ben practically ran up to me and wrapped his arm into mine, like I was a bride being escorted down the aisle. Lissa was on the other side of me, doing the same thing.

“Hi Micah,” he said cheerfully. Lissa repeated his greetings.

I grunted. Patrick was behind us, talking to Stacey. I almost turned around and told Stacey to stop talking; considering she was talking about that ‘cute boy’ she’d been with on Friday night. Currently she was wondering if she would ever see him again.

That ‘cute boy’ had to be Joel, which was just…eww, on so many different levels. It wasn’t even funny.

“C’mon, slow poke,” Ben said. I jerked away from his fingers as he moved to tickle me and picked up my pace, slightly uncomfortable with how close he was.

“Where we going?” I finally asked, deciding to ignore it.

“You’ll see,” he replied.

“And do you usually grab strange boys on their first day of school?” Okay, so it wasn’t appropriate, but I just had to ask, because I couldn’t ignore it. I hadn’t ever had a strange boy intertwining their arms in mine like I was a bride being walked down the aisle before on any other first day of school that I had had.

“Yes,” he replied, echoed by Lissa and Stacey.

“There was this one time in 9^th grade…” Lissa began.

“Shush. He’s not ready for that story yet,” Ben commanded. “Wouldn’t want him getting any ideas about how easy I am in that pretty head of his,” he added.

Lissa snickered.

“But Ben, you are easy,” Reese remarked, falling into step next to us. I hadn’t seen where he’d come from.

“Just for you, pony, just for you,” Ben replied, still cheerful. I decided not to ask about the strange nickname.

His cheerfulness was beginning to get to me. I wanted to lash out and push him away, and, at one point in time, I probably would have. I found myself smiling instead though as they continued to banter back and forth, until finally we were standing in the auditorium.

Not in line for lunch, like my growling stomach was telling me to go do.

I dragged my heels, pulling everyone to a stop. Patrick bumped into me from behind. I found myself briefly hoping those were keys in his pocket, but a previous experience with him told me it probably wasn’t.

“What?” I heard someone ask. I couldn’t tell because it looked like the lights were still warming up before they would fully turn on.

“I’m hungry,” I replied, as if it should be obvious.

“Oh.” This time I could tell it was Ben. “Don’t worry about that, someone’s getting subs from the sandwich cart. I’ll share my hoagie with you,” he said. “Don’t worry, it’s all meat.”

I was pretty sure Ben was leering at me when he said that last part.

Reese smacked him lightly over the back of his head. “Down, boy!” he commanded.

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed, despite the fact that I was slightly embarrassed. I’d never met anyone quite like Ben before.

“Aww” Ben pouted. “You’re such a spoilsport.”

I got dragged the rest of the way into the auditorium where, much to my relief, someone did in fact hand me a sandwich. Turned out Reese and several of his friends hung out in the auditorium during lunch, practicing what music they could. They also, from what I was seeing, had a lot of fun.

Reese’s voice was cracking even worse than it had been on Monday. Apparently, they were looking for a singer, as well as another guitar player, since the one kid, Derek, refused to play with them anymore.

I could even understand why, though I thought several members of the ‘No-Name Band,’ as they had named themselves, were good. It was just Reese, and his complete inability to sing, much less play the guitar. Despite this fact, I could tell he was trying. I was also having fun too, up until the bell rang, signaling the fact that once more it was time to go to our next class.

Rock Choir. With Elizabeth.

No one was paying attention as I got up from my seat and made my way toward the exit. At least, I didn’t think they were.

Until Patrick fell into step beside me. “Going to get your guitar?” he asked.

I almost informed him it wasn’t my guitar, it was my mother’s. But I decided not to. I just nodded, hoping he’d go away.

He didn’t, though. “I’ll go with you,” he informed me, looking cheerful.

He wasn’t looking so happy when I did, in fact, grab my mom’s guitar and, rather than make my way back to the Auditorium, made my way to the nearest exit instead. He was cursing when I walked out the doors.

“Damn it, Micah,” he finally yelled, running around so that he was in front of me. He came to a stop and planted himself in front of me. “You might have gotten off yesterday, but you’re going to…”

“…End up in trouble, I know,” I interrupted him. He fell quiet. “I don’t care,” I informed him.

I was back to being angry again.

“Now get out of my way,” I told him.

He sighed. “Fine…” and stepped aside. I nodded.

I wasn’t even past him when he grabbed my arm and tugged on me. “I’ll give you a ride home,” he said as soon as I looked at him. It didn’t sound like I had much of a choice, so I followed him to his car and, somewhat willingly, got into it with him, after forcing him to promise that he wasn’t going to sacrifice me to his God and Goddess. He did, too, after once more informing me that Wiccans did not sacrifice people or animals. I knew that though. I’d been doing some reading at night before I went to bed. He wouldn’t shut up, either, even after I’d told him too.

“You were having fun in there, right?” he was asking.

I looked at him blankly.

“In the auditorium with Reese and Ben and Stacey and Lissa and the others,” he explained himself. “You were…”

Oh. “Yeah,” I answered. Because I couldn’t deny it, I had been having fun.

“So why are we skipping our last class? Don’t you like music…I mean…”

“I like music,” I told him. I was getting a headache. I didn’t feel like explaining myself to him. I shut my eyes and leaned my head on the window. Patrick shut up.

“It’s not about the music class or even the fact that Elizabeth’s teaching it; though that does tick me off a bit,” I finally offered. That’s all that was said between us as he pulled into the Windleton’s driveway.

I dropped my mom’s guitar off in my room and took a few seconds to change into something that I wouldn’t mind getting all dirty, before I made my way out the backdoor and over to my house. Patrick followed me, not talking. Apparently, he had decided to give up on getting answers from me.

It surprised me though when he picked up the spare pry-bar and began to help me pull off more wall paneling. I wasn’t allowed to work on the roof unless Ken or Elizabeth was there. Usually Ken, because Elizabeth flat out refused to go anywhere on the ladder. Something to do with being afraid of heights, I guess.

“Hi.” I looked up and found Elizabeth in the room with me. I wasn’t surprised, either. Patrick had disappeared when we’d heard her coming, yelling at Ken to get the hell out of her way because she had had it and if he didn’t, he’d find himself sleeping on the couch tonight. Yeah, Patrick was definitely afraid of her, and I could see why. She was standing in the doorway just watching me.

“You skipped your last class today,” she informed me, sounding for the entire world as if it was something I didn’t know.

“I know,” I muttered.

“Why?”

“Because.” Yeah, I know. It’s a lousy excuse and oft-times overused, but I hadn’t gone to my last class because…because I didn’t want to talk about it with her.

“Because why?” she asked, pressing the issue, her eyes all narrow and squinty as she looked at me.

“Do you need glasses?” I asked her instead. She blinked at me like I’d lost my mind.

“No,” she informed me.

“Oh…well, you might want to get them checked anyways. You’re squinting at me like you can’t see me,” I replied back. What can I say, I didn’t get intimidated all that easily, and the sarcasm just came dripping out of me, adding to the sweat already pouring off of me.

“Micah…” Her voice came out, the warning clear. I guess she didn’t appreciate the humor.

“Patrick!” she suddenly hollered. “I know you’re in there. You better get your ass out here right this minute or we’ll be having this conversation later. In front of your grandparents!”

Patrick came out of the kitchen, looking sheepish. He still kept his distance though. She must have had the privilege of spanking him when he was younger. I let out a sigh, turned my thoughts toward the things that were bugging me.

“You didn’t tell me you were a teacher,” I informed her. “A teacher at the high school I’ve been enrolled in,” I added, in case she missed that point.

She just blinked at me, like she didn’t get it. A heavy breath of air came puffing out from between my lips in frustration.

“Okay, so… I guess I should have informed you that I’m a teacher…one of your teachers,” she finally replied. Maybe she got it after all. “I’m sorry I didn’t. But…there wasn’t any time.”

This time it was my turn to look at her like she’d lost her mind.

She shot me a defensive look. “Well, there wasn’t! I mean, you just got here on Thursday, Friday we went shopping and then Saturday you decided to go missing after not really being missing, cook dinner for everyone, and then you go straight to bed! Sunday you were all depressed, Monday I was running late, which, by the way, I’m still mad that you left without calling me. Tuesday and Tuesday night you spent out here, roofing.” She shuddered. “And Wednesday you skipped completely. Which, by the way, I let slide. If you’d wanted to go to the funeral, you should have said something. I’m…not…unreasonable…damn it!” She was standing still now, attempting to glare daggers at me.

I opened my mouth, trying to get a response in to no avail. I guess she was really pissed off with me because at the last, she stomped her foot on the ground. Then she was standing by me, picking up the sledgehammer. I took a step back as she raised it and, with a swing that I would have never suspected could come from a small woman with such a slender frame, she knocked part of the walling I had been working on into two pieces. I cringed, wondering how much it was going to cost to replace that panel.

She dropped the sledgehammer and then turned on me. “So please, why don’t you explain. To. Me. Why. You. Skipped. My. Class! Because I have got to tell you, I have half a mind to ground you, and don’t you dare tell me I can’t. You may not like it, but I’m the mother. I may not be your mother, but mother trumps you any day of the week!” Her face was red.

I could only stare at her. She just glared. Waiting.

Then my anger got a hold of me because this woman, this tiny woman, was actually getting to me.

“I skipped your class because I will not play my mom’s guitar at school. Not that guitar, not my electric guitar. Not now! Not ever! And you wanna know why I won’t play my guitars at school? I’ll tell you why!” I was shouting now. I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

“I won’t play them at school because playing was something I did with my mother! Playing is something I’ve done with Joel! With my mom! Not anybody else! My. Guitars. Do. Not. Go. To. School… Ever! And…I should have said something when you kept telling me bring them with me. I’m sorry.”

I shut up then, because I needed air.

“What’d you play at your last school?” she asked, surprisingly calm in the face of my anger.

“They let me use the school guitar or I played the piano, but most of the time I just sang.” I was so startled by her calm question that I answered her question without thinking about it.

“Ok. We’ll get you another guitar to play at school then,” came her reply.

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything at all.

“Will that work?” she asked.

“Uh…yeah, I guess,” I responded, still taken aback.

“Good, because we really do need more guitar players,” she informed me.

I snorted. What they really needed were good guitar players.

“What?” she asked.

I told her what I had been thinking. I mean, I hadn’t censored myself at any other point in time, why should I start now?

She gave me a look that I think meant she didn’t appreciate the comment very much but, to my surprise, kind of nodded her head as if she agreed me. “Yeah, that’s true too,” she sighed.

I stepped away from her, more than ready to end this conversation with this strange woman who had taken me into her house, no questions asked, and given me clothes, and a computer, and stereo and other things. Was that what kindness was, or was it something else?

It was a lot more than most people had given me. But more importantly, she had done the same for Joel too. No questions asked. I knew why she was doing it, though. At least, I thought I did. She wanted more kids. She wanted Joel. She couldn’t have him. But… I could at least return the favor, somehow.

Ben had told me in the auditorium that I should try being polite to people. Avery had pretty much informed me that I had been stuck in one spot, in one moment in time, and it was time to move on. Had Joel moved on? It felt like he had, because he’d been so damn insistent on us staying with these people, and that hurt. Because he was supposed to be my little brother. I was supposed to take care of him. Not anyone else. Yet here these people were, giving us a chance. Joel was being given the chance to speak again; to fix my mistakes.

“For the record.” I turned and looked her in the eyes. They were light brown, dark flecks surrounding her pupil. “I don’t drink. Some asshole dumped booze all over me when I was trying to get out of there, unfortunately someone else passed out and I had to carry his sorry ass home.” I had already explained part of this to Ken. Perhaps he hadn’t mentioned it to her.

I didn’t tell her that that someone happened to be Reese and Patrick. I figured she could figure that one out on her own.

“And… if you really want to end up with good guitar players, you should go buy Reese a new guitar. That one won’t work well for him,” I told her. That said I figured my good deeds for the year was done. I raised my pry-bar, ready to get back to tearing down walls.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong with the guitar he has?” she asked, interrupting me.

I let out an exhausted sigh. Exhausted, because she should know better.

“I mean, he’s left-handed like me, right?” I asked, studying the wall in front of me.

“Uh…yeah?” The question was plain in Elizabeth’s voice.

“He’s playing on a right-handed guitar,” I informed her. I decided the conversation was over.

I shoved the pry-bar in between the frame and a piece of wood paneling, pushed on the pry bar. Moved it. Pushed. Moved it again. Heard her tell Patrick he better not be skipping any more classes either.

On the third push, she was gone.

I moved it again, watched as the wood-panel slowly came off the frame it had been stuck to for so long.

In one spot.

Unmoving.

I was tired of being stuck.

---

End Chapter 11

Many thanks to my team of beta-readers and editor's for their advice and feedback. They have been a great help to me the last couple of weeks while I have pushed chapters out left and right.

Please leave feedback and reviews, and please, feel free to discuss in my section of the forum board. I love getting feedback.

Linxe