BROKEN

By Wes Leigh

 

This is a work of fiction intended solely for the entertainment of my readers; any resemblance to any real people or places is purely coincidental. Readers who would like to chat are encouraged to contact me at weston.leigh@protonmail.com.

This story is the property of the author and is protected by copyright laws. The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent.

If you enjoy this story, please support the Nifty archives today with a thoughtful donation by visiting https://donate.nifty.org/.

 

Chapter Eight

 

When I come downstairs after changing out of my school clothes, my parents don't say anything to me. "Monty is waiting for you in the barn," Poppa informs me. His voice is calm, quiet. I don't know what that means. Did Monty tell them what happened? I didn't ask him to keep it a secret, but I would be so embarrassed if they learned why I fought Clayton. Momma gives me a quick hug, strokes my cheek, then ushers me outside to start work.

While we're training the horses, Monty also doesn't talk about the fight. We spend the entire time leading the horses around in their halters, getting them comfortable with voice commands. I'm glad we aren't talking about what happened at school. I really don't want to discuss it.

When Carson gets home, he doesn't say a word while he's teaching me new core exercises for my back and stomach. I want to ask him if everyone is gossiping about it, but I don't bring it up. I know how my school operates. Carson has to have heard all about it, but it will be wildly exaggerated. Did he hear the truth? I'm afraid to ask, but he doesn't seem to despise me, so I guess he still likes me. Maybe just because he's my brother and he's gotta love me.

Supper is very quiet. I stare at my plate, mostly, eating the extra helping of meatloaf Carson dishes out. I need the protein after my workout.

Poppa and Momma talk about the price of feeder cattle at auction. We have a few that are old enough to be sold as feeder steers, but Momma hates the way the animals are treated once they're bought by the feedlots. She'd rather keep them here on our farm, fattening them up for market ourselves.

We're farmers, and we know many of our animals are eventually going to become food on someone's table. We don't let our emotions get in the way of our business, but Momma draws the line when it comes to the way big operations like feedlots and slaughterhouses treat animals before butchering them. Poppa agrees with her, and with the smart way Poppa runs our farm, we can actually feed and raise cattle cheaper than the feedlots do, and our animals are cared for a darn sight better.

I finish my meatloaf and the extra helping of beans Carson spoons onto my plate. Momma gets up and walks to the stove, where peach cobbler is cooling. She calls Mattie over to help her. Peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream melting on top. My absolute favorite.

Monty tells Poppa that one of the fillies is showing real promise. He says, depending on how the rest of the training goes, he'd like to look into giving her advanced training as a cutting horse. He thinks she has the intelligence and the disposition to be good at it. It's a risk, because Poppa can sell her at the end of the summer and make good money for a saddle broke horse, but if he has Monty train her as a cutting horse, she could bring more. A lot more, depending on how good she is.

I'm happy that the conversation is going like it is. No mention of my horrible day and ramming Clayton's nuts up into his belly. I'm fine with that. I'll spend the three days of my suspension working with Monty, and when I go back to school, I won't take shit off the other guys. I meant what I said in the hallway at school. If they give me any more crap, I'll take another three days suspension until they get the message.

At least Momma and Poppa aren't adding punishments on top of my suspension. I just hope the entire mess is over and done with.

After we finish eating, Poppa announces, "I'll need to borrow your helper in the morning, Monty. I asked for a meeting with his principal. We're going in at nine."

My heart leaps into my throat. Shit! I guess it isn't over after all.

͠ ͠ ͠

Poppa walks up the sidewalk next to me. The school doors are just ahead. I may throw up. I know I'm going to have to tell everyone the whole fucking story all over again, and my stomach is churning at the thought.

Poppa didn't say anything to me while we driving here except that he expects me to tell the truth. I can't tell if he's upset with me. He seems mad, but not at me. I don't know what is coming up, but I know Poppa. He doesn't get mad often, but when he does, it's always for a good reason, and you better not be the one who earned his fury.

Poppa has a quiet way of dealing with mistakes people make. He did it to Carson once, when Carson and his friends brought over a bunch of beer and started drinking while driving the tractor around. They wrecked it in a ditch, got it stuck, and broke an axle. Poppa and Carson had a talk out in the barn the next day. I snuck out to listen. Poppa didn't yell. He just looked at Carson and talked about how much trust he'd given Carson over the years and all the hopes he had for Carson in the years to come. He looked Carson in the eye and said, "Trust is something you've built up with me, day after day, but it doesn't take very long to tear that trust down. I expect better from you, Son."

That was the last time Carson drank beer. At least, the last time I heard about it. And Carson never hung around those guys any more. He started playing football and had a different bunch of fellows as friends.

I knew then that if I ever messed up, I could expect Poppa to talk to me, man to man, and let me know what I'd have to do to earn his respect again. I've been expecting Poppa to talk to me about what happened in school, but he hasn't said a word yet. I did hear him tell Momma something strange before we left this morning. He said, "I want all the facts first, my love."

That's how Poppa is. He doesn't make rushed judgements.

We reach the doors of the school and walk inside. The hallways are quiet because the first period classes are in session. When we enter the main office, the secretary sees us and says, "They're waiting for you in the conference room, Mr. Greene." She points at an open door. I can see Principal Atkins sitting at a big table with papers in front of him. We go in, and I see Clayton sitting at the far end of the table between two men. I don't know either of them.

Principal Atkins stands up. "Mr. Greene, I've arranged this meeting at your request so that we can put this matter to rest. I understand you felt I was a bit too quick in my decision to suspend Truman for three days, but after you hear all the facts in this case, I think you'll agree I could have suspended him for a week or more. In fact, I'm still considering expulsion as an option, depending on how Mr. Gentry feels."

Atkins gestures at Clayton and the men sitting next to him. "This is Clayton Gentry, the boy Truman assaulted. His father, Hubert Gentry."

Poppa nods. "I know Hubert. I've met with him on a few occasions for bank loans."

My stomach turns a somersault. I knew Clayton's family was rich, but I didn't know he was the banker's son.

Atkins continues, "And this is Marcus Freeman, Mr. Gentry's attorney."

Poppa doesn't even blink. He pulls out chairs, one for him, one for me, and motions for me to sit down. Poppa sits next to me and his hand slides onto my knee under the table. He squeezes my knee, once, reassuringly, and I realize he's got my back.

Atkins opens a folder on the table in front of him and says, "First of all, I think it would be helpful if I mention what constitutes physical assault, according to the laws of this state."

Poppa shakes his head and interrupts. "No, Mr. Atkins, the first thing I would like you to do is summarize the school's policy on bullying."

Atkins stutters and mumbles for a bit, then finally asks, "Why would I do that?"

Poppa calmly explains, "When I heard what happened, I did a bit of checking on my own. I was surprised to find out that you didn't do a thorough job checking into the reason for this fight. That's when I called you and asked for this meeting. We're not here so you can justify the actions you took yesterday. We're here to correct a wrong and to see that the school takes the proper action to ensure that the bullying my son suffered yesterday will not occur again."

Atkins is visibly upset now. He glances at Mr. Gentry and the lawyer sitting beside him, then looks back at Poppa.

Poppa doesn't give any of them time to speak. Poppa looks straight at Principal Atkins and says, "I know you and your wife are church-goers. Not the church my family and I attend, but everyone in town knows you're Bible believers. I'm sure you've heard the instructions the Lord gave to the Israelites in Leviticus 19:15. `Do not pervert justice. Do not show partiality to the poor or favoritism to the great, but judge your neighbor fairly.' Mr. Atkins, I believe you ignored this instruction yesterday. You are in a position of authority, leading this school, judging these students. You showed favoritism to the son of a wealthy man in our community, to Mr. Gentry here. You didn't judge the case based on the facts. Instead, you perverted justice. I'm very disappointed in you, Principal Atkins, as a God-believing man and as an administrator in our community's school system. You have much to explain, Principal Atkins, and I want answers to several questions. Now you've been avoiding my first question, so I'll ask it again. What is the school's policy on bullying?"

Shit! My father is brutal, and I'm glad he's on my side!

Principal Atkins gulps and stands up. He walks to the door of the conference room and asks, "Janice, would you print out a copy of the bullying policies? Thank you."

Mr. Gentry and his lawyer are whispering. The lawyer, Mr. Freeman, clears his throat and says, "We appreciate the Bible lesson, but it's not entirely relevant to the case at hand."

Poppa looks at the lawyer and says, "There will be a time in a few minutes when I'll have questions for the three of you, but I don't need to hear your opinions at this moment."

The lawyer isn't listening. "My. Greene, you do realize that Mr. Gentry has been very patient and understanding in this matter, don't you? He is well within his rights to press charges against your son for assault. Your son can be charged, arrested, and potentially jailed, and Mr. Gentry can sue you for civil damages. You could lose your farm and your livelihood. This is a very serious matter, sir."

Poppa nods. "I agree. A very serious matter." Poppa turns in his seat and looks back out into the office. I turn too, to see what Poppa is looking at. I see Carson and other guys on the football team. They're standing in the office with four boys from my PE class. That's when I realize that the four boys, the guys from my class, all have big brothers who play football with Carson. The older guys all have serious, almost angry, expressions on their faces. They push their little brothers forward, into the conference room.

"What is going on here?" Principal Atkins asks. "Why aren't you boys in class?"

Carson pulls out the chair on the other side of me and sits down. "These boys were all in PE with Clayton and Truman yesterday. They know what happened. We talked to them last night and found out what caused the fight between Truman and Clayton, but you didn't ask the right questions, Principal Atkins. They all want to explain a few things to you today." Carson pats me on the shoulder with one hand, smiling grimly at me. He looks back at the boys from my class and asks, "Who wants to go first?"

One of the footballers pushes his little brother forward. It's the kid who told everyone Clayton should pork me in the ass. The boy looks miserable to be here, but his big brother has one hand on the boy's neck and gives him a hard squeeze. The boy grimaces, dips down a little to avoid his brother's grip, and says, "It all started when we were running laps. Clayton got a little excited watching one of the girls running on the track, and I guess he got, ummm, a little bit of an erection."

I glance at Clayton. He's grinning like he's proud of himself. I roll my eyes.

The boy continues his story. "Clayton said Truman was staring at his, ummm, boner and that Truman was perving on him. Clayton told us all to watch ourselves, because Truman was obviously a gay creep. We were all nervous around Truman in the showers. Clayton accused him to his face of being a perv. Truman didn't deny it. He just ran out of the showers and got dressed. We thought that would be the end of it, but Clayton said we can't let him get away with staring at us every day. Clayton convinced us to catch Truman in the halls after lunch, and that's when Truman kneed Clayton in the balls and told the rest of us he'd punch us if we kept talking about him being gay."

Poppa looks at the boy. I can see Poppa thinking about everything the boy said. There are times when I think Poppa can read my mind, so I know better than to lie or tell him half-truths. Poppa stares at the boy and asks, "You said Clayton accused Truman of being a perv in the showers. What exactly did Clayton say?"

The boy swallows nervously. "I don't remember everything. I think Clayton said something to Truman about how he wanted to see his, ummm, penis, when they were jogging, and so Truman could get a good look at it if he wanted."

"That's just locker room talk," Mr. Freeman observes. "Boys say those kinds of things all the time, but it doesn't constitute bullying."

Poppa turns around and looks at Mr. Freeman. "I didn't ask for you to be here, Mr. Freeman, but I'm glad you are, because I'm going to have a question for you in a few minutes." Poppa turns back to the now-sweating boy and asks, "What did Truman say and do when Clayton offered him a chance to look at Clayton's penis?"

The boy blinks slowly and says, "He turned around and ignored Clayton."

"What happened next, son?" Poppa asks.

"Clayton kind of pushed up against Truman, and one of us made a joke about how Truman wanted Clayton to, ummm, do sex stuff with him there in the shower."

Poppa looks carefully at the boy. I'm wishing with all my might that Poppa would ask him who suggested that Clayton pork my ass, because I know this little weasel is the one who said it, but instead Poppa asks, "What happened next?"

The boy sighs in relief. "Truman didn't like Clayton pushing up against him, so he left and got dressed."

Poppa nods. "In the halls after lunch, when you and Clayton and the other boys surrounded Truman ... what did Clayton say to Truman, as best you can remember, son?"

The boy glances at Clayton. Clayton isn't so pleased with himself now, and he's beginning to look nervous too. The boy says, "Clayton warned Truman that he better stop staring at our ... at our junk."

Poppa nods, waiting.

The boy continues. "Clayton was standing really close to Truman, pushing him back against the wall. Truman shoved him away. Clayton came back up to Truman, even closer, and said Truman had better keep his hands to himself if he didn't want to get smashed."

Mr. Gentry interrupts. "I've heard enough. Obviously, Clayton isn't entirely innocent in this matter. But let me remind everyone here that there's big difference between words and actions. Clayton may have made a few inappropriate comments to Truman, but Truman is the one who attacked Clayton. You all heard what this boy just said. Truman shoved Clayton in the hallway. Clayton responded to that shove with angry words, and Truman retaliated by kneeing Clayton in the groin. That's assault, Mr. Greene. Your son assaulted mine, and I'm of half a mind to call the police and press charges."

Poppa looks at me. "Is that true, Son? Did you touch Clayton first?"

I think back to the hallway. The angry words. The shove. The knee to his balls.

I back up a few hours. To the shower. The mocking and jeering. Clayton approaching me with his dick half hard.

I focus on that moment. My emotions. My frustrations. Why was I so upset?

My mind finally accepts the memory I blocked out. I see Clayton's chubbed up cock slowly approaching my hip. The tip touches me. He pulls back and a silvery string of sticky liquid connects us together. He looks down and sees it, and he leers at me, pushes forward again, and rubs the end of his cock on my hip, smearing it around.

I look up at Poppa. There are tears in my eyes. "No," I say, shaking my head slowly. "No, Poppa. I didn't touch him first. He touched me first. With his cock. In the shower. He pushed his cock into my hip and rubbed against me."

Poppa pats my knee under the table. Carson slides his hand onto my neck and squeezes me gently.

I turn to Principal Atkins and say, "You're always holding those special assemblies in the gym where you have people tell us that no one has the right to do sex stuff with us if we don't want them to. You tell us it's wrong and it's against the law. Well, Principal Atkins, Clayton Gentry sexually assaulted me in the shower. Isn't that what you call it? Because first he made sexual comments about how I must be gay since I wanted to see his cock, but he didn't stop there. He touched me with his cock and rubbed himself against me while he was getting an erection. The other boys thought it was funny and encouraged him to rape me."

Atkins doesn't know what to say. He stares at me in shock and asks, "Why didn't you tell me this yesterday?"

I shake my head in disgust. "Because you never asked. You talked to Clayton. You talked to his friends. You got their side of the story without checking to see if they were lying or telling the truth. You never talked to ME. You never asked me why I kneed him in the balls. I've never caused a day of trouble in school, Mr. Atkins, not until yesterday, and you never looked for a reason why. You just decided to suspend me for three days without bothering to find out what really happened."

Poppa releases his grip on my knee and places both his hands on the table. He looks hard at Principal Atkins, then turns to stare at Mr. Gentry and Mr. Freeman. Poppa raises both eyebrows and says, "Now I think we've reached the point where I ask you gentleman a few questions I've been saving until now. Here they are. Do you three realize how patient and understanding I've been in this matter? Do you understand that I can sue this school system for negligence in the protection of my son against bullies? Do you understand that I am well within my rights to press charges against Clayton Gentry for sexual assault? Are you aware that Clayton can be charged, arrested, and potentially jailed, and that his father can be sued for civil damages? Mr. Gentry, you could lose your bank. Do you understand that?" Poppa pauses and sighs. "This is a very serious matter, gentlemen. Do we all agree on that point?"

Principal Atkins stares at the papers in front of him.

Mr. Gentry glares at Clayton, sitting next to him, and Clayton looks like he wants to run for his life.

Mr. Freeman, the attorney, doesn't know what to say. I bet that doesn't happen to him very often.

I hold my head high. I'm Truman Nathaniel Greene. My Poppa is CJ Greene. We don't start trouble with other people, but we don't let the other guys push us around. And that includes the people in charge. Principals and teachers and bank presidents and their fancy lawyers. My brother is Carson Greene. He's got my back, and you better not mess with any of the Greene men. Not if you know what's good for you.

͠ ͠ ͠

The other boys all had a chance to tell Principal Atkins what they saw. There was nothing new. They all simply confirmed what the first boy said. Then the adults sent all of us boys out of the room while they talked. Except for Clayton. He stayed seated next to his dad and their lawyer.

Carson and I are waiting to hear what they've decided. Carson is sitting next to me on a bench in the hallway. He doesn't go back to class but waits with me. He has his arm around my shoulder, and I'm leaning against him. He's holding me like Monty did yesterday.

Monty was right. Even cowboys need a hug every now and then. 

The office door opens and my dad comes out. He squats down in front of me and asks, "Truman, do you want to press criminal charges against Clayton for what he did to you in the shower?"

I think about it. Think long and hard. Then I decide I don't want to do that. I feel like I've won the fight in every way, so I say, "No, Poppa. I don't, but I trust you to decide what's best. Would you take care of it for me?"

Poppa nods his head and says, "Sure thing, Son." He stands up, glances back at me, and says, "I couldn't be prouder of you, Truman." Then he heads back into the office.

Carson doesn't say anything, but hugs me tight against his side. I want to ask him if he thinks I made the right decision, but I'm starting to think I'm old enough to stick with whatever decisions I make. It's part of my new, wild side. I knee a guy in the balls, then I live with the fallout.

Thirty minutes later, Poppa comes out again.

"Your suspension has been lifted, Truman. You can go back to school, starting tomorrow, if you want. Or you can take the rest of the school year off. You can stay at home and help Monty train the horses, but you'll still have to do your schoolwork and turn in assignments and take tests. Momma and I will help you do it all from home."

"I'll help you too," Carson says. He looks at Poppa and adds, "I can pick up his assignments every day and turn them in when he's finished."

Poppa nods. "We'll work out the details later, if that's what you want to do, Truman."

It doesn't take me long to decide. Working with Monty instead of dealing with these jerks? Easy choice. "I want to stay home, Poppa."

"Okay, Son." Poppa looks at Carson. "And you're going to send an acceptance letter to State for that football scholarship this fall."

Carson sighs. "Poppa, we've talked about this. I want to go, but I can't. You need me to work the farm."

Poppa shakes his head. "I can hire someone to do your work, Carson. After Monty finishes training the horses, I'll offer him a long-term position. He'll teach Truman how to train horses, then Truman can teach him how to do all your chores."

I laugh and get excited at the thought of Monty being my assistant.

Carson isn't convinced. "We can't afford that, Poppa."

Poppa gives us both a lop-sided grin. "We can now, boys. Mr. Gentry has decided to give us a very generous loan at zero percent interest." Poppa grins. "From his own personal account."

Carson is confused, then he gets what Poppa is saying. "Gentry is paying us to forget about what his little creep of a son did?"

Poppa stops grinning and squats down in front of us, looking eye to eye with me. "Truman, some people might feel bad about this. They might feel like you were hurt by what those boys did, and it wouldn't be right to ignore it and do nothing. Other people might say Gentry is paying us to let his son off the hook. I don't want you to see it that way, and if you do, I'll go right back in there and tell them the deal is off."

I look down at my lap and ask, "Is Clayton sorry for what he did?"

Poppa shrugs. "I think he realizes now that he's in serious trouble. That's probably the only reason he's sorry. But sometimes that's what it takes to get your shit together."

I look up at Poppa and grin. He doesn't usually cuss like that.

Poppa takes my hand and squeezes it. "To be honest, Truman, I think your knee taught him more than his father can ever teach him."

We all laugh.

I ask, "Is Mr. Gentry trying to keep us from charging Clayton with a crime?"

Poppa nods.

"But the money will help a lot, won't it?"

Poppa nods again. "It certainly will. But we don't need it. God will provide, son. He always provides."

I say, "Maybe this is how God is providing for us, Poppa." I scoot out of Carson's arms and put my hands on each of Poppa's shoulders and give him a gentle squeeze. "Aren't you always telling us that God knows how to make a masterpiece from our messes?"

Poppa begins to smile and his eyes seems to sparkle with the beginning of tears. He nods at me, so I continue. "Poppa, I know Clayton and the other boys weren't listening to God when they were such jerks to me. And God didn't tell me to smash Clayton's balls. When Principal Atkins suspended me, he wasn't listening to God either. But Poppa, look how everything is working out now. Somehow, God is making everything work out for our good, just like you've always said it will if we trust him. That's why I'm thinking this is God providing for us. Carson can go to college now, and that's a good thing, right?"

Poppa looks like he's going to cry. He pulls me into his chest and hugs me. "You have been listening, haven't you, Truman? We may not like how we got to where we are, but we can accept this gift from God and use it for the good of our family."

"That's what I want to do, Poppa," I say, hugging his neck as hard as I can.

I feel my brother's strong arms wrapping around me and Poppa, tightening around us both. I'm squished between them, but I don't mind at all.

 

The end of BROKEN, Chapter Eight