Simon's Journal

Volume IV

 

Thirteen Summer Days
A New Beginning

 

Written by Danny

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter -- 9

Saturday

 

Sleep? Not a chance. I was up the entire night writing and thinking and writing and praying and writing and a hundred other things and oh, did I mention I was writing? I wrote so much that when I had laid the pen down for the last time there was exactly one sheet left in the pad of paper I had been given. Oh sure I was tired, but my brain simply wouldn't turn off. At one point I had tried closing my eyes, but that only gave my imagination a blank screen on which to display mental slide shows and feature length memory-films.

When I wrote, I wasn't really journaling (although I did that too) as much as I was writing down the zillions of questions, thoughts, ideas, and just about anything else that kept popping into my mind.

Breakfast consisted of a slice of toast (surprisingly not burnt), an apple, and Raisin Bran cereal in a cardboard bowl with a cardboard spoon and a carton of 2% milk like they serve in every school across the country. When they brought me my breakfast they found my dinner still sitting right where they left it. It was untouched save for the chocolate milk and the oatmeal-raisin cookie which I had consumed sometime in the night, but don't remember doing so; I only know I had because the cookie was gone and the carton was empty. When breakfast arrived I had been doing Jumping Jacks in the middle of my solitary cell which they thoughtfully called a `Guest Room'. I suppose they called it that to make it less scary for younger kids. Heck, I've been left for dead in a shit-hole pit with no lights, no clothes, and no food. Their `Guest Room' was a palace to me.

"Two-hundred-thirty-seven... Two-hundred-thirty-eight..." I counted aloud.

As my food was brought in a thought flashed in my head. "Can I call the guy that brought my jailhouse breakfast a waiter?"

"Excuse me." I called out when the solid metal door was nearly closed again.

An older boy, seventeen I think, peered around the edge of the door. "Yeah, what do you want?"

He had dark, short crew-cut hair, thin dark eyebrows and light olive colored skin with a slight, greasy sheen to it. His cheeks and chin were beset with pimples but not his forehead. His forehead was completely smooth and reflected the florescent light from the ceiling like a mirror.

I gave him my best smile despite the attitude he was giving me, "Any chance of a guy getting a Bible in this place?"

The nearly instantaneous transformation that I witnessed was nothing short of remarkable to behold. His hard scowl softened, his eyes went from narrow slits to wide open and his tight-tough-guy frown split into a crooked-tooth smile. Evidentially my waiter was a fellow Bible boy.

"Yeah," he started to say, "but I don't think you will be here long enough to get one. I just heard `em say you are leaving soon."

"Really? Wow! Cool!" I said quite excitedly, "Thanks for telling me."

He shook his head and said softly, "You didn't hear it from me. By the way, what they get you for?"

I didn't know what to say so I simply said, "Broke probation."

Of course he then asked, "What were you on probation for?"

I chuckled, "Mostly `cause I made the FBI look like a bunch of sissy Girl-Scouts."

He got a laugh out of that and showed me those crooked teeth of his again. And as he was closing the door a hand came out from nowhere and stopped the door from closing. Man that poor guy about crapped himself with fright. We both thought some cop had caught him talking to me and was going to bust him, but we were both wrong.

"TOM!" I shouted when Tom's face came into view.

The guy who had brought me breakfast and who I had been talking with looked completely and utterly confused by Tom's presence.

"This is one of them FBI guys I was just telling you about." I told the young guy and if he had looked shook up before I said that, now he looked utterly panic stricken.

"Move along son." Tom told the guy in a calm, but authoritative voice.

"Y-Yes S-s-s-sir." He stammered as he took off like a shot.

Tom then stepped into my cell and pulled my door nearly closed behind him.

"I think I scared that kid." Tom said with a smile.

I smiled back, "I think so too. Did you see what you made him do to his pants?"

Tom looked at the closed door as he sipped from his gas station coffee.

"Oops." He said in response.

"He just told me I might be going home soon." I told Tom.

"Yeah, well, I'd like to talk with you for a moment if you don't mind." He asked in an odd politeness while at the same time ignoring my statement about getting to go home. He then added, "You know, Man to Girl-Scout."

"Oh crap!" I sighed, "You heard that?"

Thankfully, he smiled.

Playing the gracious host I moved myself to one side and motioned to the bed, "Would you like to sit down?"

"Thank you and yes I would. I've been up all night." He said.

"Me too." I said as he was about to sit, but he stopped when I said that and eyed me questioningly.

"Oh," I started saying while waiving my hands like I was trying to wave off a plane, one that was coming in for a landing on an aircraft carrier. "I promise I wasn't up for a bad reason. Actually it was a real good night."

While he again sipped from his coffee, I showed him the pile of papers I had of all the writing I had done last night. It was then that I got a whiff of it and realized it wasn't coffee, but more likely a gas stations idea of a cappuccino. At any rate, it smelled good.

"I would have expected you to have been completely worn out after yesterday." He commented as he patted the empty spot beside him on the bed as an invite for me to sit down too.

I lowered myself to the bed, "Yeah, you'd think so, but I wasn't. It was really weird. Oh there were times when I felt tired, but it was like my brain was powered by an antimatter reactor. It was all my hand could do to keep up with everything that was coming from my brain." I was rubbing my aching hand as I spoke.

I suddenly popped up again, "Oh sorry, would you like some of my breakfast?"

"Thank you, I just scarfed down three donuts, but please do eat." He said back.

I brought the breakfast tray over, rested it on the toilet and sat back beside Tom on the bed.

"Oh while I am thinking about it." He said and reached into his inner suit jacket pocket, "I brought you another."

He produced a GoodNite and offered it to me.

"Thanks!" I said as I took it.

"I'm wearing the last one from yesterday now." I said as I tucked it under my left hip for safe keeping.

"Do you need to change now?" He asked while pointing at the door as though he were asking if I wanted him to leave for a moment.

"Nah, I'm good for a bit." I said.

"Good because I wasn't planning on going anywhere anyways." He said with playfulness in his tone.

I gave him a half smirk back.

"Like I said, I was up all night and most of that time I was sitting on the toilet so I wouldn't use up my GoodNite in case I didn't get another.

Here is a perfect example of how my brain was working all night. One second we were talking about my bathroom habits of the night and the next second my brain popped out a completely unrelated question.

"Are my mom and dad coming this morning?"

He became unresponsive for about two seconds. It was as though he was pondering whether to answer or not. Finally he spoke with, "Later, yes." He then added, "But I wanted to talk with you before you met with anyone else."

I had taken a bite of my toast which was kind of flavorless as I asked, "What about?"

"For starters, no one knows I am here right now." He said.

"No one?" I asked with mild surprise.

He shook his head, "not even your probation officer." He added, "And I think after we talk you'll understand and want this conversation to stay between us."

"Ok," I said with suspicion, "So what is it you wanted to talk about that is so secret?"

"Mort" he said flatly.

I stopped in mid chew and looked him in the eye. Boy he looked tired. In that same instant a still picture of Mort had flashed onto the screen within my mind. I didn't say anything in response, but instead waited for what Tom would say next.

"He's dead." Tom said like he was telling me it was raining outside and it caught me so off guard that I accidentally swallowed the half chewed mouthful of food and started to choke on it.

I coughed and gagged until the Toast became dislodged. I spat it into my hand and dropped it on the tray as I tried to catch my breath.

"You did it?" I gasped.

"You alright?" he asked out of concern for me having choked.

I waved that off and asked again, "You really did it?"

Frowning, he shook his head.

I grunted my confusion. "Huh?"

"Is it enough to know he is dead?" Tom asked and I could read on his scarred face that he was holding something back and whatever it was, it was big.

Shaking my head I answered, "I think I got to know."

He sighed so heavily that I thought he was going to breakdown or something, but then he said, "I looked into it just like we agreed upon and he is in fact dead and has been for a number of years."

"How'd he die?" I asked.

Tom put a hand on my knee, "Simon, I honestly don't think you want to know the answer to that."

I stood up, took the tray and set it back by the door. I then returned to the same spot where I sat, grabbed his wrist and willing my tear ducts to not go into overdrive, I begged him to tell me.

He sighed just as hard again and then said, "He was murdered about three years ago."

"Murdered?" I gasped while now looking at the concrete floor of my cell.

And then my brain started to do the math.

"Wait." I said and got to my feet, "Wait, wait, waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaait!"

I was standing, grasping the sides of my head as a memory started to come back to me. Now facing Tom and with trembling hands shaking so much that my head was shaking too I exclaimed, "Oh my God Tom!"

"You remembering?" he asked.

I let go of my head and stepped forward so that I could sit back down on the bed. This time I grasped his free hand and held it with both of mine as I allowed the memory to come all the way back.

"Can you tell me what you remember?" he asked me much the way Dr. Lizy might.

I looked up at him again and asked, "Does anyone else know he was murdered? I mean besides you and me?" and my `me' came out so high pitched that it sounded like I was trying to imitate a cartoon mouse.

Tom nodded, "Yes. It was a pretty big thing at the time. It made the local news."

I shook my head, "I-I cannot believe this! How could I have forgotten that Aunt Catherine killed Mort?"

"So you do remember." Tom observed, "Please tell me what you remember from that night."

It wasn't that he asked, but the way he asked which made me feel obligated to use the power of my tongue to bring those events back to life.

Right then I couldn't look at Tom as I spoke; I couldn't even hold his hand anymore. I suddenly felt dirty all over and kept trying to wipe my hands clean on my pant legs.

"I..." I had started, but stopped and allowed the scene to play on my minds screen for a moment before I continued, "I remember it all Tom."

I stopped rubbing my hands on my pants and was now clutching them together and wringing them over and over again. I was shaking my head with disbelief as I spoke, "Mort was on top of me." I paused again as my voice broke and I felt my anus clench tightly closed, "He was inside of me. That's when Aunt Catherine came home and walked into the bedroom."

 

I looked up to Tom as I said, "Oh Tom she was so mad."

 

With a hint of hesitation he asked, "Did you see what she did?"

 

I nodded several times like a bobble-head-doll before answering, "Saw and heard."

 

I pushed my hands between my thighs and pressed my legs tightly together in a further attempt to stop my hands from shaking so much.

 

"Aunt Catherine screamed and Mort put his hand on my back to push himself up. I remember I couldn't breathe and then I heard a loud crack right before Mort fell back on top of me. He was crushing me with his entire weight while he was still inside of me. I felt something warm flowing down onto my head and felt Mort breathe out once. Then Aunt Catherine rolled him off of me."

 

I was again looking at the concrete floor of my cell as I spoke, "It was really weird Tom; `cause all I remember feeling then was his penis coming out of me and how much it hurt and how empty I suddenly felt."

 

Once more I was wiping my hands on my pants though a lot more vigorously. So much so that I was creating a great deal of friction and heat and though it was causing me pain, I didn't stop. "Anyway, she lifted me off of the bed and carried me all the way to the bathroom."

 

I stopped again and looked up at Tom.

 

"I wasn't crying." I said blankly.

 

"You weren't?" he asked with a tone of surprise.

 

I snarled as I asked, "Why wasn't I crying?", but Tom didn't answer me but instead he reached over and grabbed my right wrist. He didn't say anything but then he didn't have to. In that small gesture I realized I was rubbing my hands so hard that they were becoming raw.

 

Cocking my head to one side as though it would allow the thoughts to fall into place I then added, "I remember Aunt Catherine gave me a bath and got me dressed. She even put my shoes on my feet. I was sitting on the sofa for a long time with Aunt Catherine holding me in her arms like a baby and then suddenly there were so many police and lights and everyone was moving around so fast."

 

I stopped as the memory seemed to go fuzzy. "I... wait... I... I..." I looked back to Tom once again, "I think someone took me away."

 

"That's right. I read in the report that you were removed from your Aunt's and taken to the hospital along with both of your parents."

 

I scratched my head and grunted, "Oh yeah" and added, "They both were with me in the ambulance. I... I remember that. Mom was crying so much and..." I shook my head, "I... I thought my dad was mad at me. His whole head was so red and he looked so angry."

 

And before Tom could say so I beat him to the punch, "I know he wasn't mad at me, but back then... back then I thought he was."

 

I then let out a slight chuckle of amusement, "His head looked like a giant red radish."

 

I could tell Tom was trying not to show his amusement at my peculiar description of my dad.

 

I took in a deep breath and let it back out like I was trying to blow out a candle on the other side of the room. "So, Aunt Catherine killed Mort `cause he was making love to me."

 

Tom suddenly got mad and grabbed my bicep very resolutely. To be honest he scared me a little.

 

"Damn-it Simon! That was not love!" he shouted.

 

I had shied away a little when he had erupted like that, but as soon as he saw that he'd startled me he released his grip on my arm and apologized.

 

"I-I know, but..." I swallowed against a dry tongue, "he ... he raped me just like ... like Runt did."

 

I suppose he thought I should be upset, crying, or carrying on, but I wasn't. He on the other hand seemed very emotional and suddenly wrapped his arms around me and my head became lost within his arms and chest.

 

Within the tangle of Tom's arms and jacket I cried out a muffled, "Can't breathe!" which got him to release me.

 

I combed my hair with my fingers and nearly made a comment about how girly he was being, but managed to keep that to myself. Then again, perhaps the problem wasn't with him, but with me. I knew at that time and still know that I desperately need to sit down with Dr. Lizy and talk all this over with her.

 

"Can I ask you something?" I asked.

 

"Simon you can ask me anything you want."

 

"You have to first promise not to laugh or tell anyone okay?" I said.

 

He didn't reply, but I could tell by the way he was looking at me that I'd said something dumb again.

 

"Yeah, ok." I conceded, but try as I might, I couldn't get that darn question to come out of my throat. It was like it was stuck just behind my tonsils.

 

"Can I guess what you are about to ask me?" Tom asked.

 

I nodded with some urgency.

 

"You want to know what happened after you left in the ambulance?" he asked.

 

I shook my head from side to side and said, "No, I mean yes, but that's not. I..." I shoved my hands between my thighs and clamped my legs tight.

 

"Do you need to pee?" Tom asked.

 

"What?" I said and then realized why he asked.

 

"My hands, they won't stop shaking." I said with desperation.

 

"I see," was all he came back with.

 

"What I wanted to ask was..." I groaned loudly as yet again the question stuck in my throat.

 

I pulled one hand out from between my legs and slapped myself hard as if it might allow the question to come out. That pissed Tom off a lot. He grabbed my wrist and told me that it was not okay to do that. When I questioned him he said that he wasn't going to sit by and watch me hurt myself.

 

He let my wrist go free and I thrust my hands back between my legs as I forced the question out. "Do you think I am gay?!"

 

That one took Tom by complete surprise. I know this because he actually leaned back as though I had taken a swing at him.

 

I was surprised when he calmly asked me, "Do you honestly think that what Mort and Runt did to you makes you gay?"

 

I shook my head and then with a deep breath I confessed to him that I'd done other stuff with others, but I didn't name any names. Now that I think back on it, I don't know what I was thinking; of course Tom already knew that I'd been intimate with others! I guess I wasn't thinking so clearly then probably due to being up all night.

 

His first response was, "Were these other's adults as well?"

 

I shook my head.

 

"I see. Besides Rico, were the others your age?"

 

I nodded, "More or less."

 

"Simon it might come as a surprise to you, but most boys your age will experiment with their `guy friends' and that is perfectly normal."

 

"Did you?" I asked without thinking.

 

Tom's eyebrow went up and I didn't think he was going to tell me, but he did. At first he was quiet and I could tell by the way he looked that he was watching a movie memory on his own movie screen within his head the same as I do. However he looked like he was struggling with whether or not to discuss such things with me.

 

"Come on! You were there yesterday; you heard what I did with Rico." I said.

 

"That wasn't real." Tom reminded me.

 

"No I mean before. I mean when we were at the home together." I said.

 

"I see."

 

"Sooo?!" I fished.

 

He then gave me a funny sort of glare and asked, "No holds barred?"

 

I smiled, "Absolutely! Gloves off! Balls to the walls!"

 

Tom held up a hand and gave me one of those pained smiles that said I'd gone too far.

 

Shaking his head and looking at the floor he murmured, "I can't believe I'm doing this." And then said, "His name was Tito Santini. We were at summer camp in Washington State. I was four days away from my fourteenth birthday; he was three weeks older. We'd both come down with rashes from something we'd encountered in the woods. Since no one knew what it was or if we were contagious, the two of us had been confined to the medical cabin for two days. Well as teenaged boys do, we started talking about girls and if either of us had ever kissed a girl, seen a girl naked, got to second base, and so on. Neither one of us had ever kissed another girl, but I had seen a girl naked. It had been during the previous school year and had been a friend of my sister who was staying with my family at the time. I had walked in on her in the bathroom and saw everything."

 

I sat listening to Tom with wide-eyed excitement.

 

"Tito thought that was the most amazing thing ever and begged me to tell him everything in detail. Well, as you can imagine we both got very excited and after a bit of back and forth we agreed to give each other a hand-job."

 

I was surprised that Tom was being so detailed and open with me and to be honest, I loved it.

 

"Is that all you did?" I asked not realizing that my question was giving away that I'd done more with my friends.

 

Tom did a silly head wiggle as he said, "That particular day, yes that was all. But that summer at camp the two of us became best of friends and we had several late nights together where we'd sneak out of our cabins and run off to the woods together."

 

"Did you guys kiss?" I asked.

 

Tom said they had.

 

"Did you ever suck each other?"

 

He said they had done that too.

 

"Did you ever ... you know ... make love?"

 

With a nod Tom confirmed that they had.

 

"Saying goodbye at the end of summer was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do as a kid. I suppose part of me still misses him. I had learned a lot that summer and I suppose in my teenaged way, I loved him, but once the summer was over I went home, went back to school and went back to chasing girls."

 

"So even though you did all that stuff with Tito, it didn't mean you were gay?"

 

Tom nodded, "That's right. I am not attracted to men in a sexual way at all, but I do not see anything wrong with it."

 

"You have done that sort of stuff, so why, yesterday were you acting like a girl when I was telling you about Rico and me in the tree?" I asked.

 

Tom chuckled, "I know what you are asking and I wasn't cringing at the sex stuff, I was cringing at the things your brain had made up to try to convince you that Rico is still alive. But don't get me wrong, I didn't care to hear about your sexual play. I'm not some pervert guy who gets off on boy on boy action. I could have done just fine without all the details, but I also understand that you and your doctor have a way of working through things. I would never do anything to hamper that process."

 

Satisfied I sat and thought in silence before I asked, "So how do I know if I am gay?"

 

"I suppose only you can answer that, but let me see if I can help you. First, I am going to tell you something that might surprise you. I already know Lowell is gay and that the two of you have played sexually together."

 

I felt myself going beet red.

 

"Now don't go getting all embarrassed. It is just you and me here and no one is ever going to know you and I have talked this morning." Tom chided.

 

"Okay." I agreed, but my face still felt hot with blood.

 

"Now I want you to tell me something." Tom said.

 

I waited for the next part.

 

"Tell me how do you feel when Mary is around you?"

 

I felt a sudden effervescence within my chest at the utterance of her name and Tom saw it happen clear as day.

 

"Well I guess I cannot expect to get a better answer than that." He chuckled and then asked, "Do you ever feel that way when say, Lowell or any of your other `guy friends' are around?"

 

I thought for a moment and then shook my head, "I-I don't think so."

 

"Have you ever dreamt about being with Mary? I mean sexually?"

 

I blushed more than before.

 

"I'll take that as a yes too." Tom said.

 

"How about any of your guy friends? Any sexy dreams there?"

 

I had to confess that I have had guy sex dreams.

 

"Well then. Now I want you to ask your question again only this time ask yourself." Tom instructed.

 

I thought before asking, "If I love Mary, but still want to do stuff with Lowell or any other guy, what does that mean?"

 

Tom smiled, "I think they call that bisexual. Know what that means?"

 

I shrugged.

 

"It means someone who likes both boys and girls." He said.

 

I nodded my understanding and then asked, "Yeah, so I am bisexual?"

 

He shook his head, "You are only just entering your teenage years. How about you keep on growing up a while longer and in a few years ask yourself that question again. You might find the answer completely different or you might find that it is spot on."

 

I agreed, but then asked, "Was Mort gay?"

 

"Mort was a molester. That's different in my book." Tom said.

 

"Is Runt or Tater gay?" I asked.

 

"Now that I am not so sure about, but I can say they are both dangerous and should never be around children."

 

"Wow, okay."

 

"Did you know that Jasper Hawkins is gay?" I asked Tom.

 

"I did." Tom said, "But again I think he too is still too young to be sure of what he is."

 

"But didn't you just say before that you knew Lowell is gay?"

 

"I did say that, but perhaps I shouldn't have said it so unbendingly. He too may change as he grows up but then again he might end up being the first gay President of the United States.

 

I laughed, "You think he's going to be the President?"

 

"Simon if anyone has the potential it is Lowell." Tom smiled.

 

"What about me? Can't I be president?" I asked.

 

"Nope!" Tom said straight faced.

 

"Why not?" I griped.

 

"Because you are one for action and not talking." Tom said while mussing my hair.

 

"Your parents would agree with me." Tom said and I wished he hadn't brought them up because I suddenly was overcome with a bad case of homesickness.

 

"You miss them don't you?" he asked.

 

"Of course I do!" I said.

 

Tom thought for what seemed like ages before he said, "I had come here today to talk with you about something else, but if you will forgive me, I think it might be best that we save it for another time. Would that be alright with you?"

 

I shrugged, "I guess so, but."

 

"But what?" Tom asked.

 

I rethought myself and then shaking my head I said, "Never mind."

 

"Simon?" Tom said threateningly.

 

"Sorry, Um, I was just thinking." I said.

 

"About what?"

 

"What happened to Aunt Catherine? Did she go to prison?" I asked.

 

"Actually, no. She spent a couple weeks in the County Jail across the street from here and was eventually put on probation, but not because of killing Mort."

 

I was lost at this point and Tom had to help me understand.

 

"No judge in their right mind was going to send her to jail, not after the story aired on the news about how she had killed the man who was molesting her nephew."

 

"So then why did she get in trouble?" I asked.

 

"You are going to get mad at me when I answer." Tom warned me.

 

"I am?"

 

"Yes, I have no doubt about it." Tom said.

 

I gave it some thought and said, "Okay, you warned me. I won't get mad."

 

"Yes you will, but here goes." Tom said, "Do you remember telling your doctor about the dream you had where your Aunt was babying you, and your two friends Lowell and Peter came over?"

 

I knew what Tom was talking about and what's more, I knew for a fact that Tom should not have known about that. He was right, I got mad... actually I am sure I had steam coming out of my ears and Tom saw it.

 

I had started to say, "Actually there were four of us there in total. You forgot Jasp..." and it was right then that my rage erupted.

 

"I told you you'd get mad." He said which didn't help me much at all.

 

"How do you know about that?" I asked through tightly clenched teeth.

 

"Well, in for a penny, so to speak." Tom said which I didn't understand just then, "We put a chip in your computer book thing that you are always writing in."

 

________________

 

 

"Simon?" Tom said.

 

I felt someone patting my face kind of hard.

 

"Open your eyes Simon." Tom said.

 

I did and found myself lying on the bed sort of sideways with my feet on the floor, but the rest of me sort of slumped over.

 

Tom helped me to sit up, but my head was spinning.

 

"What happened?" I exclaimed.

 

"Uh, I'm not sure, but I think you may have passed out." Tom said.

 

"Why?" I said, but instantly recalled what I had last heard and in that same instant my blood began to boil.

 

"Oh there you go." Tom exclaimed and then I saw that he was holding both of my arms by the wrists and beyond his hands were my two small tightly balled up fists.

 

"Okay, let's calm down please." Tom said, but I was still struggling against him.

 

And then my emotions got the better of me and all fight left me as I melted into Tom and sobbed uncontrollably.

 

"I'm sorry kido, but I felt it was a necessary invasion into your privacy and if it is any consolation whatsoever no one other than myself and my partner knew about it or still know about it. I made sure that none of what you wrote was read by anyone other than my partner and me. Nothing was shared with anyone either."

 

With that I turned away from Tom and wiped my face with the breakfast napkin.

 

"Don't call me Kido and why did you do it?" I asked unable to hide how violated I felt.

 

"Simon you know how I feel about you. You and I have been through a lot together and I think you also know that when it is within my ability to do so, I would move heaven and earth to be sure you are safe. Even if that meant I had to do something I knew you wouldn't be able to forgive me for doing."

 

I thought about that for a good while as Tom went on to explain more, "I did some looking into the matter and I was surprised what I found. Your Aunt was already in some legal trouble prior to killing Mort. You already know about the stuff she was giving you and that it was the same stuff that psychotic, fat, bitch was giving all you boys back on the ship."

 

I nodded and dabbed at my eyes.

 

"Well, your aunt was doing it before that, back when she was still your legal mother. She was found out and arrested and would have gone to prison over it, but she had a good lawyer. She avoided prison that time by giving the police information about where she was buying the stuff. She also was forced to give up her parental rights. That is how you ended up being adopted by your mom and dad.

 

Out of the blue a question popped into my head, "Do you think Aunt Catherine got fat because she was so guilty about killing Mort?"

 

Tom lit up like a lighthouse after that question, "Wow Simon! I think Dr. Lizy is rubbing off on you in a good way."

 

I forced a smile.

 

"At any rate, she probably would have literally got away with murdering that son-of-a-bitch if her past charges hadn't come up again. So the Judge sentenced her to 10 years in prison, but suspended the sentence and put her on probation for up to five years."

 

"Did Lowell, Jasper or Peter's mom's get into trouble too?" I asked.

 

"Funny that you should ask that, because I had the same thought when I was investigating all this for myself. It seems that at the time of your Aunt's first arrest, Mrs. Vandoan, Mrs. Hawkins and Mrs. Alderman were not involved. As far as I was able to determine, it wasn't until after she had given up her parental rights that she met them."

 

"Oh, so until you read it in my e-journal..." I said in what was a heavy degree of snotiness, "no one had a clue about them doing the same stuff to Lowell, Jasper and Peter as my aunt had been doing to me?"

 

"Well, actually I think you told your doctor before I had read it." Tom suggested.

 

I then asked, "Are they going to get into trouble now too?"

 

"I cannot answer that. I do know that your doctor is required by law to report any illegal activity she is made aware of by a patient. So I expect that if she hasn't yet, she will be giving that information to the police before too long."

 

I got emotional again at the thought that I had got Lowell's mom into trouble. I didn't feel much if anything for Peter's mom simply because I didn't know her and had never met her save from back when I was little.

 

"Take it out!" I demanded.

 

"Excuse me?" Tom said not understanding what I was meaning.

 

"Take out whatever you put into my e-journal." I said.

 

"Oh, yeah, I did that yesterday." Tom said.

 

"How do I know?" I asked.

 

"I don't suppose you are going to take my word for it?" he asked while trying to inject some humor.

 

"TOM!" I moaned and seethed.

 

"Would you feel better if I bought you a new one?" he asked.

 

"No `cause you would probably bug that one too." I accused.

 

"I couldn't do that if it was still sealed in its packaging." Tom said.

 

"Oh please! I know you are smarter than a silly plastic package."

 

Tom chuckled, "Thanks... I think."

 

"Toooooooommmmm, coooooommmmme ooooonnnnn!" I whined, "Really, just take it out of mine and I will be happy again."

 

Tom put his right hand over his heart and put his left hand in the air, "As a silly Girl-Scout, I do solemnly swear that I have removed the surveillance chips from your computers."

 

"COMPUTERS?!?!" I squealed.

 

"Oh um, yes." He reluctantly confessed.

 

I narrowed my eyes and bit my bottom lip to keep from saying something I might regret.

 

"Oh my!" Tom teased.

 

"I hate you!" I hissed.

 

"Yes and I love you too, but..." he stopped abruptly and then said, "Oh I know how I can make you trust me when I say I have taken them all out. Have you ever heard on TV about how the President and others were in trouble for illegal wiretapping?"

 

I scrunched my nose up in thought and then remembered, "Oh yeah, Fyer and I were talking about that onetime on the Banachelli."

 

"Okay, well the reason they were in trouble was because there are strict rules for wiretapping and they did not follow those rules. And neither had I when I chose to put surveillance chips into your computers. So now that you know that, you know I technically broke the law too."

 

"Wanna share a cell?" I asked.

 

Tom smirked, "Funny!"

 

"So why does that make me believe you really took out the chips?" I asked.

 

"Because if I hadn't, all you would have to do is tell someone about them and they could find the chips and track them back to me."

 

"Oh, that makes sense." I said.

 

"So in all seriousness; the chips have been removed from both of your computers in your bedroom, from your journal thing and out of your brother's computer at his place."

 

"You bugged Jamie's computers too?"

 

Tom opened his mouth to speak, but thought about his words before letting them come out, "I did, but like I said, I have personally removed them all."

 

"Okay, I believe you and I understand your reasons for doing it. But I am still upset that you read all my most personal thoughts."

 

"I'm sorry I had to resort to that, but in a way I think it should make you feel good."

 

"ARE YOU MAD?" I exclaimed.

 

"I just mean, I know things about you that are rather disturbing and yet I still love you."

 

"TOM!" I complained as I blushed, "You got to let me read your journal now!"

 

"I don't have a journal and besides if I have one and let you read it, I'd have to kill you."

 

"Not funny!" I said as I crossed my arms and pouted.

 

He reached out and attempted to give me a push, which I quickly and swiftly deflected.

 

He then pulled out his cell phone and looked at the time.

 

"How'd you manage to get that in here?" I asked.

 

"I am Super Tom!" he joked while dropping it back into his pocket.

 

I bet you have a big S tattooed on your chest and as soon as I said it I took both hands and started to rub the top of my head vigorously.

 

"What?" he asked at my odd behavior.

 

"Another memory is all." I said, "I am trying to rub it out."

 

"Now stop that." He said and forced my hands into my lap. "I was serious; you need to stop doing things that hurt you."

 

"That didn't hurt." I said back.

 

"Yes it was; you were trying to force yourself to forget things. You have worked too hard to remember and I know you may not like some of the things you remember, but you saw how they affected you by trying to erase them. So just stop it or I'll kick your butt!"

 

I sighed, "Okay." And then asked, "Are you about to leave?"

 

"I should. I expect your parents will be here to take you home soon if they are not here already."

 

"So they are coming? For real?" I asked.

 

"Yes."

 

"Are they super mad at me?"

 

"Yes, but they are more worried than mad."

 

"Just remember, you are not the only one that went through crap. The people back here in Ohio, who love you, were suffering too. We might have been living in hell down south, but they had their own little slice of hell up here too."

 

And with a hug he left me to think on that.

 

True enough, with in an hour after Tom had left me a cop came to escort me from the cell. I think I took him by surprise when he found me standing there cleaned up and ready to go. After Tom had left, my emotions got the better of me and I had sat on the bed for a long cry, but not long before the officer came to fetch me I had got up and started cleaning up. I didn't want anyone to know I had been crying. I also had to change into the new GoodNite that Tom had brought me, cause during our talk I'd wet the other. I had cleaned up in the small sink that was on the back of the metal toilet. I didn't have a comb, but my hair wasn't really long enough to need one, my fingers did fine for that. I also used my finger to brush my teeth. I made it a point to also force myself to poop in the toilet after gobbling down the rest of my breakfast.

 

"Good Morning sir!" I said when the door swung open.

 

He stuck his head into the cell, looked around and made a queer clicking sound with his tongue and cheek as he saw me standing there washed up and standing at attention. He didn't smile, didn't comment on my appearance or anything; he simply asked me to follow him.

 

"Yes sir!" I said and moved quickly.

 

Now I had expected to have to sit and wait a long time, but actually I waited in a red plastic chair for maybe three minutes before a different officer, who by the look on his face was having a very bad morning, snapped at me.

 

"On your feet!"

 

Despite being startled I jumped to my feet and stood at military attention.

 

The big blue painted metal door to the far left which had green tinted glass and wire inside the glass began to buzz real loud. The guard opened the door and gave me an aggressive and forceful `Move your ass' gesture with one hand while holding the door open with his other. I moved quickly and surprise, surprise; there were my parents.

 

One question I came up with last night and that I included on my long list of questions was why I hadn't been visited by my parents yesterday. I mean I am a minor after all and yeah I was told they had been up all night looking for me downtown too, but still, shouldn't my parents have been allowed to see me? The other question I had as a follow up was, did they even want to see me?

 

"MOM! DAD!" I shouted, and if there was anyone left in the place still asleep, I am sure they were awake now. I took off running and nearly tackled them both as I threw myself into their arms.

 

I hadn't noticed right away that Dr. Lizy, and my Probation Officer were also there. Actually, I hadn't seen them until after I was done hugging up mom and dad. It didn't escape my notice that absent from the welcoming crew was Tom. Perhaps I shouldn't have expected him since I'd spent the morning talking with him in secret.

 

I had released mom from a big hung and stepped back, only to back into my Probation Officer. I turned and looked up at a frowning Mr. Davis.

 

I don't recall saying it, but later dad told me I had squeaked out, "Oh crap, I'm dead."

 

All of us except for Dr. Lizy went into a room very much like the one I had spent so much time in with Tom and Dr. Lizy yesterday, however this room had carpet on the floor and a few generic scenic pictures framed on the wall. I noticed that the frames had been bolted to the walls to keep anyone from removing them. We talked at length; well actually Mr. Davis and my parents did most of the talking; I did a whole lot of listening. After some time we were joined by Dr. Lizy who, for the second or maybe third time since I have met her was not all dolled up like she normally is. When I had seen her outside of this room she had on a long coat so I hadn't noticed how plain she was this morning. She was wearing a man's plaid shirt and a pair of blue jeans. I would later find out that she had been doing gardening at home when she got the call informing her I was being let out this morning.

 

As we began to talk there was a knocking at the door to our room and when Mr. Davis went to answer it Tom walked in looking puffy eyed.

 

"Sorry, sandman finally caught up with me." Tom said.

 

"I imagine you could stand to sleep a week straight through." Mr. Davis commented as the two shook hands.

 

"I won't lie, that sounds wonderful after being up for nearly 48 hours straight."

 

I cringed inside at the thought that I was the cause of Tom's lack of sleep but then wondered why he wasn't able to sleep last night as I was locked up. So last night couldn't have been due to me... could it? I then realized that the same could possibly be true for my parents and maybe even Mr. Davis as well.

 

There were no more chairs so Mr. Davis gave his seat to Tom and then he sat himself on the corner of the desk which unlike the room we were in yesterday, was pushed up against one wall.

 

I was told that I was being released due to `extenuating circumstances' as Mr. Davis put it. Dr. Lizy explained that after our session yesterday, it was apparent that I was not acting under my own control and that because of what I had shared they were giving me a second chance.

 

I then mumbled something which royally pissed Mr. Davis off. It wasn't what I said that made him so mad; it was that I had mumbled. (When am I going to learn that Mr. Davis really hates mumblers?) Actually, I hadn't realized I had said anything until he snapped at me for mumbling. Upon reflection I said, "Sorry, I guess I was thinking out loud again. I was only thinking that this isn't a second chance; it's more like a fifth or sixth chance."

 

I glanced at dad and Tom who were sitting near each other; neither seemed the least bit amused... that is until they saw the tears welling up in my eyes. Only then did they realize I wasn't joking around.

 

I looked at my prison issued shoes and allowed the tears to flow free as I shook my head from side to side and God help me, I mumbled again.

 

You see, after Tom's visit this morning, I had resolved a perplexing question that had been troubling me all last night. I don't think it was anything Tom and I had talked about that had settled this for me; I think it just became clear on its own. Perhaps I would have come to the same conclusion even if I hadn't been visited by Tom.

 

"You shouldn't let me out."

 

Dr. Lizy, my mom, and Mr. Davis all started to say something at the same time, but when their words collided, all three stopped. Without looking up at any of them I started to speak again. What I said made both mom and dad gasp. Mom was full out weeping as I spoke.

 

"I am a screw up! I know it! Everything I have ever tried to do I've screwed up!"

 

I was full out sobbing now as I looked up at Tom and continued, "I'm sorry! I know everything that happened to you is my fault and I'm sorry, but you have got to believe me when I say that you can't let me out of here! Not ever."

 

I have no idea why they didn't try to stop me. They simply sat there looking at me.

 

Mr. Davis who had been located on the desk was now standing with one hand on his nightstick and his other hand resting on the handle of his gun. I guess that was his `hands on the hips' stance. I turned to him and begged him, "Please let me stay!! I belong in here. Out there I screw up everyone's lives."

 

I turned to Dr. Lizy and asked, "Why am I such a screw up?"

 

Now that I am sitting here writing about it, it seems rather dramatic, but I swear I wasn't acting or playing up the moment when I literally fell out of my chair and onto my knees. And let me tell you, I didn't slide out but fell from my chair as though it had been pulled out from under me. I didn't land softly either; my knees hit the floor hard enough that I felt the impact all the way up in my head. When I hit the floor I threw my head back and let out a wail that shook the concrete block walls around us. It was like a pressure release valve on a hot-water heater; I cried loudly until all the pressure inside of me had been vented and then I dropped my face into my hands.

 

What happened next caused my heart to ache like someone was squeezing it within their hands. Mom and dad joined me on the floor and embraced me. They held me and let me cry until I got it all out.

 

Eventually our embrace broke and I was helped to a chair and Mr. Davis had offered me a handkerchief covered in little yellow duckies. Despite my breakdown, I managed a weak chuckle when I looked at it in my hand. I think Tom was hiding a smile himself. The whole lot of us talked quite a while and I suppose someone else might have found it funny that these four people were trying to talk me into going home while I was trying my best to get them to lock me away forever. Eventually they won out and I agreed to go home. A point in the conversation came where I was asked if I had any questions. It was then that I remembered my list of questions and all the letters I had scribed last night. I lifted up my shirt and pulled out a stack of folded papers which I had tucked into the waistband of my pants. I went through my papers and from them gave each a personal letter that I'd wrote just for them.

 

Mr. Davis was the first to ask, "What's this?"

 

"I had a lot of time to think last night and well, I wanted to share with all of you my thoughts." I then cleared my throat `cause my voice was starting to crack. "No more secrets! EVER!" I said that last word with extra emphasis while eyeing Tom who got that I was thinking about him and the chips he'd put in my computers.

 

They each began to read to themselves. After several minutes Dad was the first to speak, "Simon, this is rather elaborate and well thought out."

 

I smiled to myself.

 

"This must have taken you hours." Mr. Davis mumbled and I couldn't help, but notice he had done the one thing he hates so much.

 

"Actually I was up all night." I shrugged, "I couldn't sleep."

 

Mom then asked, "Do you really want to go back to Riverside Junior High?"

 

"Go Badgers!" Mr. Davis said and it was kind of weird to see something from him other than his all-business attitude.

 

I smiled at him tensely and nodded to mom as I told her, "If you are going to let me out of here after everything I have done then I need to go back to my old school and make things right there. I think going to Holdington Academy would be real cool but it feels too much like running away from my responsibilities, commitments and any messes I have made at my old school. Even if it means I have to repeat a grade, I want to go back. I mean if I am allowed."

 

Mr. Davis then said, "I think that is a very mature attitude." He looked at me like he was having a thought and it appeared to be painful; that or he was passing a kidney stone. "Have you thought about talking with..." he stopped and looked to Dad as if he could help him find the name. Surprisingly, Dad did just that.

 

"Freeman?" He offered.

 

"That's the man!" Mr. Davis said to dad with a snap of his fingers. He then looked back to me as he continued, "Have you thought about talking with Mr. Freeman about making up for your missed classes in Summer School? He did offer that as an option."

 

"He did?" I asked while glancing toward my parents for confirmation.

 

They both seemed to find this information as much of a surprise as I did. The three of us looked to Mr. Davis then to Dr. Lizy. She was the one to fill in the missing pieces.

 

She opened her briefcase and began to riffle through it. "I believe it was at your ... first ... court ... appearance." As she searched she drew out her words.

 

That was all I needed to hear. I had been so out of my mind back then that I hardly recall much of that meeting. I was explaining to them how I didn't remember much about that when Dr. Lizy pulled out a group of papers which were stapled together.

 

"Here we go." She said and began reading to us from the court report about how Principle Freeman had suggested that if I successfully completed treatment that he would do whatever he could to make sure I was able to catch up academically perhaps through a summer school program and/or tutoring.

 

"That would be sweet if I can do that!" I exclaimed, unable to hide my excitement.

 

And in that instant I felt the tell tail trickle of a GoodNite that failed in its duty. Mom being the super mom that she is read the signs and immediately asked if there was someplace the two of us could be alone.

 

Mr. Davis had no clue what was going on, but Tom stood up and said, "He is still in custody so he needs to be escorted by an officer so I'll see to him."

 

God help me, I had the funniest thought just then that poor Tom, the FBI agent is now downgraded to Juvy-Guard and Stand-in Nanny. Thankfully I didn't say any of those thoughts out loud.

 

Mom pulled from her purse, not a GoodNite, but a regular white diaper and I groaned inside at having everyone see it. My second thought was how white it seemed in a place mainly filled dark colors of gray, blue, and red. It was almost like it was glowing but that was probably just my overactive imagination. And my final thought was that, it was good that Tom was escorting me instead of Mr. Davis, `cause I'd probably have to have someone help me with it.

 

With no hesitation whatsoever Tom plucked the pristine diaper from mom's outstretched hand, then took hold of my left hand and walked me right out of the room. I was surprised to find that the door wasn't locked as Tom turned the handle and pulled the door right open.

 

Out, alone in the hallway, Tom handed me the diaper while saying, "I'll wait outside the door while you get changed."

 

"Uh, Okay. I'll try to do it myself, but I might need some help. I'm not very good at doing this kind on my own."

 

"Where's Cho when we need her?" he joked.

 

"Probably on my boat changing all the other boys." I said without thinking.

 

"Of course she is." He said back and almost in the same breath he asked, "Can I ask you something without you getting weird?"

 

I stopped in midstride, one foot hovering inches from the floor in front of me. Oddly, Tom let my hand fall free from his right then. I'm not sure why either. Anyway, I was not debating about letting him ask a question, it was the `weird' part that I was pondering. You see, I wasn't sure if I should have been offended by that or not? In the end I decided to be offended.

 

Dropping my foot heavily to the floor I looked at him hard.

 

"Oh my, I do believe I struck a nerve. Sorry, I honestly didn't mean too." He said while satisfactorily grinning over having found a sensitive nerve.

 

"I was only going to ask you why you feel comfortable saying the Banachelli is yours." He asked, still grinning.

 

I couldn't help thinking that he needed to stop grinning or he was going to get a punch to the nards!

 

I shrugged and nudged my head to the left as though shaking a thought out of my left ear.

 

"It was Madam M's." I started saying, "We took it from her. Everyone then agreed I was the new Captain. That makes her mine."

 

"But..." he started to say but I cut him off.

 

"No buts! It's my ship! Mine! Mine! Mine!" and I stomped my foot like a tantrum throwing two year old.

 

"Now--now! Don't get your diaper in a twist." Tom said while reaching out and tweaking my ear, "I'm just messing with you. I completely agree with you. She's yours. I simply was curious as to your motivation or thoughts rather, behind your feelings of ownership."

 

When he let my ear go it stung a bit and felt hot which forced me to rub it. I was sneering as he then placed the same hand behind my head, weaving his fingers into my hair and then pulled me close while leading me on to the bathroom. I wrapped an arm around the back of his waste and felt the bulge of his gun hidden beneath his shirt. I will never, ever, ever admit to this, but I actually had a fleeting thought about grabbing for it and using it to escape. I've no idea how or where I would go. It was just a very, very, very brief thought that had no emotion or motivation behind it!

 

"It's fun pushing your buttons." he said very dead-panned like. He then dropped his hand to the back of my neck and began to massage my tense, hardened muscles.

 

Oh my goodness it felt good having him squeezing those muscles. I ended up letting the issue drop as I leaned against him and rested my head against his love handle.

 

We didn't have to go far to find the bathroom. Actually, it was only three doors down on the left. He pushed open the door while guiding me inside by using my neck to steer me in.

 

It wasn't one of those big, multi-toilet, public bathrooms like you might expect, but was a single bathroom with one toilet, one sink, and a paper towel dispenser that hung above the toilet. There was a handicap bar beside the toilet, but there was no wall divider. I'm guessing this bathroom was here only for guest use.

 

Tom asked what he should do and I said, "Wait let me try."

 

I did just as I'd learned while staying with Ian and Colin. I removed my pants and the wet goodnight which wasn't really all that wet so I don't know why this particular one failed, but thankfully we caught it early and I hadn't got the pants too damp. There was only a small pee stain on the inside of the left pant-leg.

 

With the diaper unfolded and completely opened up I pinned it to the wall with my backside, pulled the front up and that's when I said, "This is where I have a hard time. I cannot seem to get the tapes tight enough."

 

Tom dropped to one knee and when he did his knee popped real loud.

 

"Ouch!" I said for him.

 

"The price of being old." He commented as he pulled the diaper up between my legs.

 

I held the front in place while he secured each of the four blue tapes. Actually he got that darn thing really tight. I'd have to be careful not to do too much bending and moving or it might break a tape.

 

"Hey you are good at this." I complemented.

 

He swatted my bare hip but not hard and then helped me get my pants up which was a good thing. I don't think I could have bent over that far to pull them up with this diaper on so snuggly. Thankfully those prison issued pants were roomy enough to accommodate a thicker disposable diaper. As for the underwear, we both agreed that I didn't need those after Tom suggested they might not fit over the diaper.

 

While Tom turned to drop the wet GoodNite into the trashcan under the wall mounted sink I sat on the toilet to put my shoes back on and I was about to leave when Tom went to wash his hands so I did the same.

 

"You doing ok?" he asked.

 

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

 

"Whys that?" he asked.

 

"Well, don't take this wrong, but you are not looking so good."

 

"You ever dropped an egg on a hot sidewalk?" Tom asked.

 

I shook my head.

 

"I feel about like that." He said.

 

With a measure of humor I asked, "Fried?"

 

"Yes." He said.

 

"Burned?" I asked.

 

Nodding, "That too."

 

I then asked, "Scrambled?"

 

Still nodding, "Yeah."

 

"Like your yoke broke?" I asked with a hint of a giggle.

 

He replied with a hint of humor too, "Exactly!"

 

"Gritty?" I asked now with a real laugh.

 

"All the above and that's enough." He said as he flicked me in the face with water.

 

I chuckled, "Would a hug help?"

 

"At this point the only two things that can help me are three solid days of sleep, or death, but I'd never turn down a hug."

 

I wrapped my arms around his middle and gave him as strong of a squeeze as I could. He on the other hand only leaned over a bit and double patted my back.

 

"Feel better?" I asked as I released him.

 

"Oh yes. I could go another minute or two without dropping." He teased.

 

"And if you are going to sleep for three days straight, I recommend you get diapered extra thick first."

 

Tom thought that was funny and opened the door as I was ready to leave the bathroom.

 

"Um, did you just dry your hands on the back of my shirt?" I asked.

 

Tom didn't have to confirm this, guilt and a Cheshire grin gave him away.

 

I reached over and swiped a paper towel out of the towel dispenser to dry my hands while he held the door and waited for me to finish drying my hands.

 

"Tom?"

 

"What?"

 

With all seriousness I said, "Don't die!"

 

He pushed me out of the room while saying, "Don't you worry. I'll be around to keep an eye on you for a long time."

 

"Good!" I said.

 

Just outside of the bathroom I stopped, turned to face him and asked with all seriousness, "Before we go back in, I need you to tell me something and I need you to be 100% honest, even if it will hurt."

 

He waited for me to ask my question.

 

"If I was somebody else, I mean just some dumb kid; would you still be ok with letting me out of here?"

 

Tom reached out, grabbed the front of my shirt with both hands and gave me a bone rattling yank toward him. He pulled me up so high that if my arms hadn't been down he probably would have pulled the orange shirt right off of me. I was dancing on my tiptoes and stretched to my maximum height to the point that if he pulled me up any higher I'd have come off the floor. As it was, with him leaning over just a bit, my face was close enough to his that there was no way I could miss the anger in his one good eye as his upper lip curled in a vicious dog like snarl. I had to grab hold of his wrist with both hands to keep from being hung by my own shirt collar.

 

"First," he began, "You are not just some dumb kid. You are a very special dumb kid. And yes, I would let you out. However, between you and me, if you screw up just one more time, and this goes for, from this point, until the day one of us dies, you won't have to worry about coming back here or going to The Ranch or any other penitentiary. I guarantee that no matter where I might be on this planet, I will find you and shoot your sorry ass myself! You got that clear?"

 

Tom was quite worked up and to be honest, I was more than a little concerned for myself at that moment which is why I wasn't able to speak just then. All I was able to do was to nod my head.

 

He gave me a strong shake which drove his knuckles into my chin and throat and rattled my teeth. There was more than a bit of anger behind his words as he spoke through his teeth, "I want to hear you say it!"

 

If there had been any doubt before, it was now painfully obvious that he wasn't playing in any way, shape, or form of the word. He was dead serious and if I didn't answer him correctly, I was sure he was prepared to shoot me right there in the hallway.

 

"YES! It is clear! Crystal clear!" I cried out with all earnestness!

 

He let me go, straightened my shirt for me and half playing and half serious, gave my face a more than soft slap. It was hard enough to make my head turn from the impact and cause my cheek to sting just a bit, but not hard enough to cause any real pain or damage. My hand had instinctively gone to my cheek to rub the pain away even though there wasn't any pain to rub away.

 

"That was for scaring the hell out of your parents AGAIN." He said and then just as quickly and just as surprisingly smacked my other cheek only a little bit harder and this one did hurt a bit.

 

"Hey!" I whined now rubbing both cheeks.

 

"That is for making me run all over this city looking for your sorry cotton covered butt!"

 

"Actually it wasn't covered that night."

 

He raised his hand as if to slap me again and I quickly turned to run back to the room, but he caught hold of the back of my shirt and barked out, "No running" as he gave me a yank backward and a knee in the backside.

 

"Hey isn't this police brutality?" I complained.

 

"You want to see brutality?" he asked.

 

"Uh, no!" I said with a chuckle.

 

"And fix your hair!" he said right before he messed it up.

 

"TOOOOOOM!" I whined.

 

"Hey?" he called out as I was trying to comb it down with my fingers.

 

"What?" I asked snottily.

 

"Speaking of shooting you; do you remember any of the trip back to Ohio?"

 

"Oh you mean when you came and got me?" I asked.

 

He nodded.

 

"I really don't." I said.

 

"Do you remember shooting me?" he asked.

 

"WHAT?" I gasped as I threw my hands over my mouth in astonishment.

 

"I-I shot you?" I said and was about to cry again.

 

He smiled and nodded, "Right in the backside." He patted his right butt cheek.

 

"No I didn't! Did I really?" his smile was really messing with my head right then.

 

"It was only a small 22-caliber pistol." He said.

 

My brain short circuited and all I could say was, "Huh?"

 

"You almost escaped from me and were in the process of stealing my car. I still don't know how you managed to get out of those cuffs."

 

"I think I'm going to be sick." I moaned.

 

Tom stepped back just in case I let my breakfast fly.

 

I rubbed the beads of sweat from my forehead with the palms of my hands.

 

"I had a gun in the center console buried under several maps and you found it."

 

I began to shake my head in hopes that he would stop.

 

"You couldn't find the keys to the car but you found the gun and you turned it on me."

 

"Wait, you left me in a car with a gun?"

 

"No, I left you cuffed and buckled into the backseat while I was taking a leak on the side of the highway."

 

With a flash I had a tiny glimpse of a memory. I could see my hands extended out a car window and see Tom standing with his back to me.

 

"Oh crap!" I moaned, "I-I remember."

 

And then Tom laughed, "I am sure glad you have remembered."

 

"W-Why?"

 

"Well, after I got you hogtied and back into the car, I made you a promise back then. Do you remember what that was?" he asked.

 

I put my fingers to my temples and concentrated with all my might to force the memory to come and surprisingly, it did.

 

"OH!" I gasped and looked up to Tom with a smile of pride for having recovered yet another memory but then like I'd pressed the play button I watched it play.

 

I was bound, lying flat on my stomach on the back seat as Tom stuffed a cloth into my mouth rather roughly. He then slapped me hard, grabbed my hair and pulled my head up so that I could see his face. He then yelled, "This one I won't let pass! Mark my words, a day will come when I am going to pay you back for shooting me in the ass!"

 

 

Looking at Tom right now, in the present, he read in my expression that I indeed recalled his words. He made a gun with his fingers and motioned as if to fire the finger gun at me.

 

The two of us standing toe to toe there in the hallway he said in a very sinister sort of hiss, "That day is still coming!"

 

He reached out for me and I flinched away, but he still caught hold of me. He gave me a spin and pushed me through the door to the room.

 

"All is well again!" Tom said to announce our return.

 

I was a bit surprised to find Mr. Davis was oddly absent. We were then informed that he'd been called away on an emergency, but had left his instructions for me once I was released.

 

I took the seat between mom and dad who each held me in a one armed hug as I was instructed in the rules for my release which were pretty much the same as before with my probation except now I wasn't allowed to go anywhere at any time on my own. That included just going out the front door to get the mail or play in the yard. I was told I'd be seeing the judge soon and we'd be told later exactly when.

 

We also talked about more of the things I had scribbled down last night. I was actually glad we got to go over more of those things as I had listed a number of questions that were weighing heavy on my mind.

 

Dr. Lizy asked, "Can you explain what you meant by, `track unfinished business'?"

 

"Huh?" I asked back, not understanding what she was asking. I had to get up and read over her shoulder at exactly what she was asking about.

 

"Oooooh!" I said and then chuckled more for my own benefit. "Sorry, that should have been "unfinished track business.' Uh, wow, ok I didn't even catch that mistake when I was reviewing everything early this morning."

 

"I still don't understand though." Dr. Lizy said.

 

I walked back to my seat as I explained, "Coach Shaffer told me I had unfinished business with the track team. I got beat up by Peter and his friends so I couldn't run for a while, then I went and got myself kidnapped and then when everyone thought I was back to run this past school year, well I went and ran away from home. So I want to try and get on the team again and help win some trophies."

 

Dr. Lizy had picked up a pencil and was making a note of something.

 

"Did I just say something we will need to talk about later?" I asked.

 

"Actually, I believe that is the first time I have heard you come right out and admit you ran away from home. You always seem to find a way to say that so that it doesn't sound so bad."

 

"So I did another good thing?" I asked.

 

She nodded and hummed her validation while continuing to make a note.

 

Getting back to what I was saying about the track team I was looking back and forth between mom and dad as I shared with them how Coach Shaffer had found out I was back. I told them about that day when he had nearly run me over when I ran out in front of his car and how I had hurdled the hood of his car without even coming close to touching it. They didn't find that amusing at all, but it did answer a question they both had about why Coach Shaffer has been checking up on me several times now since I got back from The Ranch. Actually, I hadn't known about all the calls and the visit he'd made to the house the afternoon of the day I had gone to stay with Ian and Colin.

 

"That is commendable and I think joining an organized sport is a great idea; however, your recovery program comes before everything, and that includes school work." Dr. Lizy reminded.

 

I giggled, "You sounded like Brother Vincent right then."

 

She smiled as she recalled that Brother Vincent had been my counselor at The Ranch.

 

We all talked some more until Mom noticed that Tom had nodded off. He was sitting in the chair with his arms folded over his chest, his legs were extended out and crossed at the ankles and his chin was resting on his chest. Mom reached out and placed a tender hand on his knee and his eyes popped right open. He growled to clear his throat. That's when Dr. Lizy suggested that anything else that might need to be talked about can wait for now as long as no one felt anything pressing needed to be covered.

 

Tom yawned as he gave me another big hug and told me that he'd look in on me after he's had some sleep. Actually, Tom's yawn became extremely contagious and we all started doing it. It was only then that I started to feel just how tired I actually was.

 

Sadly, leaving wasn't as easy as walking out the front door. There was waiting and paperwork and more waiting. At some point while mom, dad, and I were sitting in a hallway I dozed off while leaning against dad. However, before that happened I had made a mental note that we were not waiting alone, sitting along with us were three other boys two of which looked a couple years younger than me and they both seemed like they had been crying recently, but weren't presently. The third boy looked to be at least sixteen and he did not seem the least bit bothered by his current surroundings. The boys were not alone either, each sat with who I assumed were their own parents. The two younger boys, like myself, were planted between either parent. The older boy was sitting with an empty chair between him and who I assumed was his father, with his mother on the other side of the man.

 

Like I said, I had dozed off at some point and only knew I had when, while leaning against dad, I was awakened again. Dad had nudged me awake when he noticed that Mr. Davis was coming back in. I opened my eyes in time to blurrily see him putting his handcuffs back on his belt.

 

Mr. Davis looked disheveled and more than a little agitated, but when we made eye contact he seemed to soften just a bit as he approached where we were seated.

 

Despite having just reawakened, I instinctively got to my feet and extended my hand to greet him. However, my legs didn't seem to get the message to wake up because I nearly toppled right over and would have, had Mr. Davis not caught me.

 

"Steady now." He said and I regained my balance.

 

"Sorry, stood up to quick." I apologized and extended my hand in greeting.

 

He took a firm grasp of it and didn't let go as he repeated several things that Dr. Lizy had already told us. Actually, he didn't let go of my hand until after he said he had expected that we'd already be on our way home. My hand became free from his grip and with a snap in his step he turned, knocked with a single knuckle on a large metal door which had a small square window at adult eye level. There was a buzzing sound before it swung open.

 

No more than two minutes after going through the door Mr. Davis returned with several papers in his right hand and a blue plastic bin with all my things in it tucked under his right arm. He pointed to an officer standing down at the far end of the hallway and instructed me to carry my things to that officer and he'd take me to get changed. I found out after we were in the car that he'd expedited my release and had my parents sign everything by the time I had returned.

 

He handed the blue bin to me, but I was hesitant to head down the hallway alone. Not because I was afraid, but because I'd already been told twice that I wasn't allowed to go anywhere alone. Thankfully Mr. Davis picked up on this and assured me that it was ok. The other three boys looked on as I walked quickly toward the distant officer. I know this because I had looked back because... well I am not sure why I looked back just then. Maybe I didn't want to leave my parents, or maybe I just wanted to make sure they weren't leaving without me.

 

Now I had thought we were on the first floor of the building, but as I was headed down the hallway I walked past one of those big window walls again only this one was about twenty feet long and overlooked the main housing area which appeared to be two floors below us. There were dozens and dozens of boys moving about down there.

 

Now I don't know if Mr. Davis had planned for me to see through that window or not but I can tell you that it was a very good thing that I did. It was everything you might expect a prison common area to be like. It looked gray and extremely scary. I didn't know I had done so until my shoulder hit the far wall, but as I was walking past the glass window I had also been moving away from it with each step.

 

When I reached the officer at the end of the hallway I realized it was the same officer I had tried to eat just yesterday.

 

"Oh crap!" I thought.

 

I apologized again. This time he seemed almost friendly as he placed the same hand I had bit against the back of my head and lead me through a door and down to the same place I'd originally been in where I'd been stripped, searched, and had to shower. However when we got there we found out it was occupied and from the sound of it, there was something bad going on in there. The officer, all business now, pushed me against the wall and ordered me not to move. He then slipped through another door with urgency in his body language.

 

Maybe twenty seconds passed before two other officers came rushing down the hall toward me. I pressed myself tightly to the wall and thumbed toward the door, "In there." I said.

 

They both eyed me questioningly as the raced by. It was only then that I realized I wasn't left alone after all. Directly across from where I was standing was two female officers on the other side of a wall of glass, both of who looked as though they were not far from retirement. A moment later my officer came back out looking worked up.

 

"Well, I think we better hold off a moment." He said with a high energy, but nervous sounding laugh.

 

"Must be a bad one if it took three of you." I commented.

"Five actually. We get kids in here that are on something or other and they take a bit more... effort." He said.

 

I suddenly felt a pang of guilt again for the way I had acted with him yesterday and again apologized. He was looking through the small window in the door as I had apologized, but then looked back to me and mocking, rubbed his hand which still had a gauze bandage on it.

 

"Just do me a favor and don't ever let me see you in here again. Alright?" he said.

 

"Oh I can guarantee you that!" I said and added, "Tom, I mean Agent Thomas Segal already told me, that if I get into trouble again he's going to shoot me." and right after I had said that I jumped about two feet straight up when there was a really loud bang on the other side of the wall I was leaning against.

 

I figured he'd go rushing back in, but instead he said, "Ok now we can get you ready to leave."

 

He looked over at the two lady officers said something I didn't understand and then the door buzzed. I didn't think about it until now, but I don't remember that door buzzing when the officers rushed in to help subdue that problem inmate.

 

You know something that I find strange about myself? Not once did it occur to me that he watched me the whole time I changed. Seriously, I was wearing a regular, white, thick, disposable diaper which was a little wet too and it didn't even come to mind to be embarrassed. Maybe that's because I was too excited about getting the heck out of that place or maybe that troubled kid had distracted me or maybe I was just too tired or maybe all the above.

 

It wasn't until I was pulling on my second shoe that he spoke up again, "Would you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

 

I was bent over trying to get the knot out of my lace as I turned my head to the left to make eye contact.

 

"Sure." I said.

 

"I know a little about your history." He began.

 

That didn't surprise me. I'm sure most of the officers there know my name and I am also sure that they all heard when `Simon Leonard' was brought in yesterday. It is one of the downfalls of having a sort of celebrity status.

 

He went on to ask, "How do you feel about wearing diapers?" and before I could react or think about his question he said, "You see, I have a son at home who will be seven next month. He's been struggling to stay dry at night and well..."

 

I spoke up before he could finish, "You are wondering if diapers would help him too?"

 

He nodded and smiled with relief as he said, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but I thought you might be able to offer a unique insight."

 

I gave him a smile, "I don't mind. Honest!"

 

"To be truthful I am a little anxious about bringing it up with my son. You see, he is extremely sensitive about the subject of his bedwetting. If I or his mother bring it up he starts crying and then there is no discussing it with him whatsoever."

 

I let out a frustrated groan at my own lace as I didn't seem to have the nails to get the knot out.

 

"Need some help with that?" he asked.

 

Sounding desperately frustrated I exclaimed, "Oh man! Can you please?"

 

He came over and knelt before me to help with the knot. I took that chance to look at the name tag pinned to his uniform. It had just a single name of Kavanagh and I took a guess that it was his last name.

 

"If I were you, Officer Kavanagh, I wouldn't do diapers like I am wearing now. I mean not at first. Actually, I used to only wear GoodNites to bed. They work mostly good and only leak sometimes, but nothing like not wearing anything at all."

 

He got the knot out and was putting the shoe on my foot for me as I went on.

 

"If he isn't open to talking about it; maybe just buy them and leave them on his bed without saying anything. Or maybe put them in the same drawer as his pajamas."

 

With my shoe tied he stood up and patted my shoulder, "Thank you for the advice Simon. I'll talk that over with my wife."

 

"You are welcome and if you don't mind me doing so, I'll pray for all three of you concerning this."

 

Okay that was the right thing to say. Officer Kavanagh lit up and said, "You're a Christian?"

 

I nodded, "I got saved at The Ranch a couple-few months back."

 

"The Ranch!?" he said with excitement, "My oldest son works there."

 

"Really?" I exclaimed, "What's his name?"

 

"Vincent."

 

"NO WAY!" I shouted and began to cry, but not sad tears, "Brother Vincent was... I mean is my counselor and sponsor!"

 

"Wow what a small world we live in!" Officer Kavanagh observed.

 

I wiped my tears from my face with my hands and then got a worried feeling, "Brother Vincent is going to be upset when he finds out about me ending up here and about me biting his father."

 

Officer Kavanagh laughed as he picked up my prison issue items and handed them to the attendant who until that second I hadn't noticed. I wondered if he'd heard everything we had talked about with the diapers and all. Then I thought about the fact that they probably have rules about officers being alone with inmates so I am sure the attendant was there all along. I carried the prison shoes over and handed them to the attendant when Officer Kavanagh had taken my clothes over. The attended smiled at me and said, "You don't remember me do you?"

 

Only then did I really look closely at the attendant.

 

"OFFICER FRY!" I squealed and practically launched myself at him.

 

I was squealing like a school girl with so much excitement.

 

"Simon and I go way back." Officer Fry explained to Officer Kavanagh.

 

I then told Officer Kavanagh about the first time I met Officer Fry at school when I was sort of teaming up with him and three other officers to help reform four school bullies.

 

I then asked Officer Fry why he was working inside the Juvy Center instead of out protecting the city. He laughed and told me that he'd been in a car accident about a year ago which left him with a bum leg and loss of hearing in one ear.

 

"I'm sorry you have to see me here." I told Officer Fry but he told me that he understood that I'd been through a lot. He also apologized that things got so bad for me but he hoped I was on my way up now.

 

"I-I got some stuff still to deal with." I confessed, "But, I have a lot of people watching out for me like Officer Kavanagh's son Vincent."

 

"I've known Vincent since he was your age. He's a great guy." Officer Fry said.

 

The three of us talked a couple more minutes before I hugged Officer Fry again and shook his hand while saying goodbye.

 

When we got back to my parents I introduced them and Mr. Davis to Officer Kavanagh and told them about him being Brother Vincent's dad. I also told them about seeing Officer Fry again. Mr. Davis knew who Officer Kavanagh was, but not that his son had been my counselor and he didn't know that I knew Officer Fry.

 

"No way whatsoever of that being a coincidence." Officer Kavanagh said to Mr. Davis about his son being my counselor.

 

Mr. Davis then added, "Apparently God is watching over you and putting the right people around you."

 

I didn't actually say this, but I thought it real loud, "Yeah, he is surrounding me with Cops and Criminals!"

 

Officer Kavanagh told Mr. Davis that the kid he'd brought in had been giving them some trouble.

 

Mr. Davis looked crestfallen, "I was sure he'd make it this time."

 

Don't ask me why, but for some reason I became interested in this kid they were talking about and I asked about him. I was told the kid has been where I have been, meaning The Ranch, but he's relapsed twice. Mr. Davis told me that the kid is only ten years old and has a serious drug problem.

 

"Will he go back to The Ranch?" I asked.

 

Mr. Davis shook his head, "I am afraid this was his last chance."

 

"Oh how sad." Mom commented.

 

"WAIT!" I said too loud as a light bulb went on. Actually it wasn't a light bulb, but a neon sign high above my head with a single word `IDEA' with a big blinking arrow pointing down to my brain. "This guy, does he have jet black hair, dark green eyes, and a dimple in his chin so deep that it nearly goes all the way to his butt?"

 

Mr. Davis was actually taken aback by my very accurate description of a boy that, as far as he knew, I had never seen nor met before. It was beyond his comprehension how I could know that information. His bewildered expression confirmed my description of the boy.

 

Grabbing my forehead I let loose a groan that sounded like a constipated fat man trying to force one out.

 

Dad spoke up first, "Is that one of the boys you rescued?"

 

Shaking my head while still holding it tightly, "I know him from The Ranch. Oh crap! Oh crap! Oh crap!"

 

Now any other time I am sure Mom would have chastised me for the repeated use of the word crap but I think it slid by due to the emotion in my voice.

 

"What's the matter honey?" Mom asked with concern.

 

The words Officer Kavanagh had just said were echoing in my head.

 

"No coincidences!"

 

"No coincidences!"

 

"No coincidences!"

 

One glance to Officer Kavanagh and we both knew we were thinking the same thing.

 

"There are no coincidences." I released my head and looked up to Mr. Davis with desperation, "God has a reason for everything right?"

 

"I believe so." He said.

 

"And that includes me being here right now." I asked.

 

I glanced back to Officer Kavanagh and he was beaming down with pride.

 

I then looked up at the ceiling and spoke to God, "You better know what you are getting me into here!"

 

I then turned to Dad and somehow he knew what I was thinking too. He then asked Mr. Davis, "I don't suppose there is any chance?"

 

"What?" Mom asked having not picked up on the fact that we were asking if I could possibly talk with the boy.

 

Mr. Davis studied me for the longest time before he asked, "What do you hope to accomplish?"

 

I then explained how at The Ranch I had a run in with the boy and through a series of events not necessarily related to anything I had done, he had got sent away. I then added, "I swear I had no idea he lived around here. Well I guess I never thought about it to be honest. But I don't think I would feel right if I didn't at least talk to him; if for no other reason than to apologize to him for not doing more at The Ranch to befriend him. Who knows, if I had tried harder, maybe he wouldn't be in this mess right now. Maybe he never would have got himself kicked out of The Ranch."

 

"Was that the boy that was teasing you about your diapers?" Mom asked, and I was surprised she knew about that.

 

Mr. Davis began to speak before I could audibly answer mom so I looked up at her and acknowledged that she was correct.

 

"I know you said this was his last chance, but what if..." I said to Mr. Davis.

 

"What if what?" Mr. Davis asked before I could finish.

 

Officer Kavanagh answered for me, "Only God can know for sure."

 

Mom finally got the idea and put her foot down on the matter with a resolute stomp that echoed up and down the hallway. "Absolutely not!"

 

"But mom, you always say you wished people would be more willing to help others. And what harm could it cause? He's already going to Sing-Sing!" I argued.

 

"I said no!" she said with finality and any other time that would have been the end of it, however, astoundingly dad was all for the idea and quickly convinced her otherwise. I have no idea what he said to her because he pulled her ear close to his mouth and whispered. Mom made a face like she just bit into a rotten apple.

 

Mr. Davis then offered mom and dad this, "I promise you he will not be alone or in any danger at any time."

 

"Well..." Mom said, which was, basically, her way of surrendering.

 

Now I was fully expecting to have to change back into prison orange clothes, but that didn't happen. Instead I was given a green laminated badge that read `V.I.P. GUEST' which Mr. Davis pinned to the front of my shirt right over my heart. I was then taken to a visitor's room where Officer Kavanagh stayed with me while Mr. Davis went to fetch the kid.

 

It was only then that I realized I couldn't recall the boy's name. I even wondered if I had ever known it. It must have showed on my face because Officer Kavanagh then asked me, "Everything alright?"

 

"I-I can't remember his name." I said with some desperation.

 

"Jay..." he started to say but I cut him off as I suddenly remembered, "Jay Dee!"

 

He half smiled, "That's right."

 

I sighed with relief at remembering.

 

Ten minutes later Jay was escorted in by Mr. Davis. Jay was wearing the familiar orange uniform and chains like you see in prison type movies. He was chained at the feet, which was connected to a chain around his waist and both hands were cuffed to that chain. He wasn't walking, but more shuffling as the chains didn't allow for a full step to be taken.

 

Even under the influence of whatever he was hopped up on, he recognized me in an instant.

 

"HEY!" he said and smiled, but then a second light bulb lit up over his head and his smile fell away leaving a sneer behind.

 

Mr. Davis walked Jay over to a chair and forced him into it with two large hands on the boys' shoulders. I was surprised to find that the chairs were somehow fastened to the floor as was the round, metal table.

 

I walked over to Mr. Davis, curled my index finger to indicate I wanted him to bend down so that I could whisper something to him. He bowed without taking his eyes off the kid.

 

Cupping my hands around my mouth and his ear I asked him to leave the two of us alone for just a few minutes.

 

He snapped back up and swelled in both height and girth as he bellowed out a resounding, "Absolutely not!" which made both Jay and me jump.

 

I will admit that the Pirate and the Captain in me both came out just a wee bit as I narrowed my eyes and again curled my finger at him. Much to my astonishment, he bowed again so that I could whisper something else.

 

And again he rose up, swelled up, but this time he didn't bark, but instead with tight lips he motioned to Officer Kavanagh to exit the room by thumbing toward the door and the two of them exited.

 

And just like that, I was alone with Jay. Well not really; I knew that Officer Kavanagh and Mr. Davis were right on the other side of that door and probably watching us too. I looked around for a camera, I didn't see one, but that doesn't mean there wasn't one. I have seen enough cop shows and movies, as well as spy movies to know that there is always at least one camera.

 

"So what the hell are you doing here?" Jay spat with venom.

 

Now I swear I didn't think of my reply. It just came out on its own. "I don't know. I just found out you were here and then had this powerful feeling that God wanted me to talk to you."

 

Why did those few words do what they did to Jay? I am not sure, but they sure got hold of him in a very powerful way.

 

"What?" He asked, his voice going several octaves higher like a boy whose voice is changing.

 

I watched as he began to quake which was just the beginning of a complete melt down.

 

"I'm sorry for what happened at The Ranch. I wish I could go back and change how I acted. I wish we could have somehow found a way to become friends. I hate that you got kicked out."

 

After I said it I thought about it and yes, I did hate that he got kicked out. Whoa!

 

He was sobbing so hard that I wasn't sure he had heard what I said.

 

"You alright?" I asked.

 

I think he was shaking his head from side to side, but it was hard to tell with him crying so hard. I wished I had a box of Kleenex or a handkerchief to offer him right then because he had a stream of snot hanging out of his nose and dripping onto his shirt.

 

Despite my better judgment I went over, knelt beside him and took his hand. He returned the gesture by squeezing my hand back very tightly as he sobbed and sobbed. Snot dripping onto my wrist and was running down my arm to my elbow.

 

After what felt like ten minutes or more he started to calm down enough that he was able to talk again. I then found out why I had thought he lived far away; he actually did. When he got kicked out of The Ranch he was sent to Juvy back where he came from originally. He was released from there, I don't know why or how; I just took him at his word. But when he got out his parents were sick of him and got permission from the probation department out there to send him to Ohio to stay with his grandparents. Apparently he fell into bad habits out here fairly quickly.

 

"They said they don't want me back." He said about his grandparents, "No one wants me."

 

Again, without thinking I released his hand and wrapped my arms around his neck. I hugged him for the longest time which of course made him start crying again. No doubt I was being baptized in snot for sure!

 

"I'm never getting out of here." He sobbed.

 

I stopped hugging him, but again took his hand as I said, "Well the way I see it, you can only go up from here and I'm sure if I ask, my parents will let me come visit you. I mean if you want me to come."

 

"Why would you do that?" he asked, "You hate me!"

 

"I won't lie to you. I didn't care much for you when we were at The Ranch, and I bet it was mutual, but how about if you and me forget about all that crap back there and start fresh today?" I said.

 

He nodded.

 

I then took hold of one of his hands and shook it causing his chains to rattle like some b-movie Christmas ghost.

 

Right before Mr. Davis returned Jay confessed to me, "I don't know what to do."

 

I took him by the hands and said exactly what I knew Brother Vincent would say, "You need to get back to the basics. Read your Bible, pray, exercise, and work your program."

 

He nodded his head and wiped his snotty nose and face on his shoulder.

 

I knew I was covered in snot, but I was doing my best not to think about it right now.

 

"Can I suggest one other thing?" I asked.

 

Again he nodded as he said, "Yeah!"

 

"You might not believe this, but you have at least two big allies here already."

 

He looked at me with big, astonished looking eyes.

 

"Do you remember Brother Vincent from The Ranch?" I asked.

 

He hesitated a moment before acknowledging that he did.

 

"His dad works here." I told him.

 

"Really?!" he exclaimed and again wiped his nose and face on his shoulder.

 

"Also, I bet if you were to apologize to Mr. Davis, it would go a long way to helping you. He's a great guy and he is a Christian too."

 

Since I was sure they were listening in I added, "I am sure if you asked him to forgive you, he will. And I bet he'd be willing to do whatever he can to help you. You've burned some bridges, but that doesn't mean the end for you. You might be stuck in here for a while; maybe longer than a while, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing. Get back on your program. Work it! Prove to everyone that you are not a lost cause!"

 

We talked a couple more minutes before Mr. Davis returned with two other officers who took Jay Dee away. When the door lock made a clanking sound to indicate someone was unlocking it I felt both relieved and a bit sad that our time alone was over. As he was being escorted from the room, he turned to Mr. Davis and did as I suggested, he apologized. And what an apology it was. I wish I could remember word for word what he said `cause it was extremely moving and heartfelt. Mr. Davis even patted him on the shoulder.

 

And right before the door closed he called back over his shoulder to me, "You really going to come visit me?"

 

The two officers actually stopped and let me finish.

 

"I promise that I'll come as soon as I am allowed." I said while thumbing over my left shoulder to Mr. Davis.

 

I then stopped and turned so that I was full facing him, "BUT!" and I really hammered that `but', "You have got to be on your best behavior. No getting into trouble, no aggravating the officers or other inmates in here. You have to work your program. Think you can do that?"

 

Sheepishly he replied, "I can try."

 

I grimaced at the word `Try' and knew that Brother Vincent wouldn't have let that word slide by without commenting but I did. Instead I said, "Think of it this way. If you screw up and get into trouble in here, they are not going to let me come see you. And by `they' I mean more than just the officers here, I mean Mr. Davis and my parents."

 

He nodded again and locking his eyes on me I saw the honesty in his eyes as he said, "Simon? I'm sorry too... I mean for..."

 

I held up a hand to stop him I smiled and said, "That stuff never happened remember?"

 

He sort of grunt-hummed, "Oh yeah!" and smiled back.

 

As the door swung closed, leaving me with Mr. Davis I heard Jay asking one of the officers who was escorting him back, "Can I get a Bible?"

 

Mr. Davis placed a big hand on my shoulder and scowled at me as he closed the door behind us, "That was positively the most amazing thing I've seen in all my years doing this job."

 

"Huh?" I grunted.

 

"That was one kid I thought didn't have the ability to cry and you got him sobbing in less than thirty seconds."

 

"Oh, well, I don't think I had anything to do with that."

 

Mr. Davis then smiled as he said, "Well said. Now do you want to go home or should I get you a room here too?"

 

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, "Hmmm, tough decision."

 

I actually made Mr. Davis chuckle with that last line.

 

Mom and dad were waiting for me when I returned with Mr. Davis right at my side. I honestly thought we were ready to go, but Mr. Davis asked us to wait just another minute while he disappeared into that same office area where he'd got my release papers from earlier. A minute later he came out holding one of those ankle monitor bracelet thingamajigs. I groaned at the sight of it, but didn't resist. Without being told to do so I pulled up my pant leg and extended my foot so that he could strap it on.

 

With me back on the surveillance system Mr. Davis shook my hand as well as both of my parents before saying he'd be in touch soon.

 

I started to tell mom and dad about Jay as the three of us were walking to the car which was parked over a block away in an above ground parking garage. The funny thing was; I think I had fallen asleep even before dad had put the key in the ignition and I didn't wake up again until we were just a couple turns away from our house.

 

________________

 

 

I awoke right then because dad had called out his open window to one of our neighbors who was trimming his hedges.

 

"Looking good Rudolph." Dad had shouted out his window while waving.

 

I opened my eyes just in time to see Mr. Nader waving back at us. He was standing in his yard wearing tiger striped Speedo briefs and nothing else while he watered his flower beds with a hose.

 

Mom gasped, "Oh my goodness!" and averted her eyes to the other side of the street.

 

"Oh yuck!" I exclaimed, but couldn't stop looking. It was like a car wreck. You don't want to see a dead body, but you can't seem to not look as you drive past.

 

Dad laughed without showing he was laughing as he continued to smile and wave to Mr. Nader, "Yeah I could have gone the rest of my life without seeing that."

 

"I think I'm going to be ill." I commented.

 

"Now stop it you two." Mom ordered without looking again.

 

Thankfully we turned off Mr. Nader's street before I went blind. Upon arriving home I received a very sweet surprise that made me completely forget about the site of Mr. Nader in that Tiger Striped rubber band; for sitting on our front steps was none other than my dear sweet Mary. She was dressed in a bright yellow summer dress and appeared to be done up like she was going somewhere fancy. I instantly thought about the talk Tom and I had earlier today and noticed how fast my heart raced at the sight of her. The sun was hitting her in such a way that her hair seemed to glow all around and when she looked toward our car as we pulled into the driveway her eyes twinkled like two exploding stars. Yep, I got the love-bug bad!

 

I quickly threw open the car door and went to extricate myself from the back seat except I had forgotten I was still buckled in. "Oh crud that hurt!" I moaned as the belt tried to slice me in two.

 

I fumbled for the button to free myself from the seatbelt and when I felt the buckle come free I leapt out into the summer heat while calling out, "MARY!"

 

"Oh hi Simon!" She said as she got to her feet to greet us.

 

"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Leonard. I hope you don't mind," she said to my dad, "but Daddy had told me that Simon Jr. was coming home today."

 

I found it unbearably cute that she called me Simon Jr.

 

"Cripes! Your dad is keeping tabs on me too?" I asked.

 

"You are always welcome my dear." Dad said while affectionately patting Mary's head as he stepped up on the porch.

 

"You bet." Mary said in response to my question.

 

"Oh, wait!" I said and then raced passed her, but stopped half way to the door, "Don't go away, I just have to make a fast call."

 

Running through the door, past dad and leaving Mary with Mom I went right to the phone and made my call to check in with the Probation Department. Hanging up the phone again I soared back to the front door and back out to see Mary.

 

Mom met me at the door and told me not to be long and that I needed to get some real rest. She also warned me not to go off the porch and if Mary left I was to come right inside.

 

"You missed a great party at Lowell's." Mary told me when we were alone on the porch.

 

"Is he super mad at me?" I asked.

 

"Nah, I think everyone is more worried about you than mad." She said.

 

"So he is some mad?" I asked.

 

She shook her head, "Nothing he won't get over once he is sure you are alright." She then lowered her voice and adopted a serious posture, "You are alright aren't you?"

 

I smirked, "I......" I drug that first word out for effect, "wouldn't say I am alright, but I think I am getting better. I..." I had to pause and think what I wanted to say. Nervously I ran my hand through the hair on the back of my head and then said, "Something happened; I mean something bad; and well..." I was really struggling with my words, "...it sort of got my head a little mixed up for a while."

 

I could read in her eyes that she was about to ask me what had happened, but I didn't want to tell her so I quickly answered her before she could ask. "I'm not ready to talk about it just yet." And then quickly followed up with, "I hope that is ok."

 

She smiled and I swear I nearly fainted right there on the porch. She then leaned forward and gave me a peck on the check which made my heart beat so fast it felt like I had the opposite of a black hole within my chest. My toes curled and my hands became sweaty.

 

"W-what was th-that for?" I stuttered out of shock.

 

She giggled, "Oops! I made you stutter again."

 

I thrust my hands into my pockets and shuffled my feet as my face flushed with embarrassment.

 

"Well, I just wanted to be sure you were ok. I'm sort of helping with a children's party down the street here in a bit."

 

"Oh cool. Who for?" I asked.

 

"A lady my dad works for is having her nephews birthday party at her house. She asked if I would help since there will be so many little kids there." She said and gave me another peck on the same cheek.

 

"Wow that is cool." I said probably a little too enthusiastically.

 

"Yeah I guess." She said back with a flip of her hair.

 

I felt like my heart was about to explode any second.

 

"See you soon... I hope." She said as she skipped down the front steps.

 

"Yeah, real soon!" I said with a wave while gently holding my left hand over the cheek she had kissed twice now.

 

I didn't realize until she was nearly to the top of our hill that I had been standing there watching her. I also didn't realize that mom was standing at the door watching me too.

 

"You better come on inside." Mom said and I turned quickly to see her standing there.

 

I blushed again, "Mom, how long have you been standing there?"

 

"Long enough!" she said with a knowing smile and held open the screen door for me to come back inside.

 

Mom and I went to my room to get me changed. I don't think my feet were even making contact with the floor as I made my way back with mom right behind me. The enormous force within my chest was greater than gravity and thus I was able to float to my room. I think I did a sort of slowed down version of a pirouette as I spun and floated like a feather down onto the lower bunk bed where mom had spread out a green and white striped changing pad. Not until this moment, as I am recalling all these events so that I can write them down, did I even realize mom used a changing pad. I cannot recall another time when she ever had. It makes me wonder if she's been getting more pointers from Lowell's mom.

 

Boy, I haven't really had a lot to drink in the past couple days, but boy I sure soaked that diaper. Maybe some of it was sweat. I mean it is summer and it is quite hot outside. While mom was removing the wet diaper she asked if they had let me have a shower and I told her not since I was taken in yesterday morning. So with that information she decided to send me to the shower which was a good thing. As I was streaking to the bathroom I happen to get a whiff of myself; I smelled of stale pee and sweat.

 

"Lord I hope Mary couldn't smell me!" I mumbled aloud.

 

I turned on the water in the tub and let it run for a few minutes to get good and hot. While it was doing its thing I took the time to check myself out in the mirror.

 

"Holy crud Simon!" I said to myself, "You look horrible!"

 

My critique was mainly due to dark black circles under both eyes. I then noticed a zit on the left side, just above my eyebrow. I leaned over the sink, the cold porcelain nipping at my bare skin, as I reached up and using the nails of both index fingers squeezed the zit until it popped. Thankfully it wasn't a very big one and didn't hurt too much.

 

I stood upright and again appraised my appearance before moaning a feeble sounding, "Meh, better!"

 

I could see via the mirror that a cloud of steam was billowing up near the ceiling and slowly beginning to engulf the ceiling light as it grew in mass and density. That was my clue that the shower was ready for me.

 

Now in the past I have been known to pull back the shower curtain and jump right in only to fry my flesh right off my bones, but not this time. Some might say I never learn from my mistakes, but this one time I made a liar out of them. After pulling open the curtain I readjusted the water before testing it with first a single finger, then my whole hand. Only then did I feel confident enough to immerse my entire body in the hot but not scalding hot water and let me tell you it felt so amazing! I stood under the water, letting it flow over me for the longest time. It was a few minutes of complete nothingness. No thoughts, no worries, no emotions, fears, or anything. Just blissful nothingness as every part of me basked in warmth.

 

While I was lost in the bliss of the hot rain, dad had come into the bathroom. I'd not heard him so when he first spoke it nearly scared the life right out of me.

 

"DAD YOU SCARED THE CRUD OUT OF ME!" I shouted as I pulled the shower curtain back enough to look at him through the fog.

 

He simply chuckled and reclined himself against the vanity while clutching the edge of the sink.

 

He started to carry on a conversation with me while I began to wash myself. He informed me that he'd just talked to Andy Freeman and invited them over for dinner tonight. He then asked if I was up to that.

 

"YEAH!" I shouted and my voice echoed within the confines of the shower. I then asked, "Is Gabby coming too?"

 

"Yes." He answered.

 

"Good `cause I miss her!" I said and then asked, "Can I call Coach Shaffer when I get done in here?"

 

"Why don't we wait until after we talk with Andy?"

 

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea." I called back while lathering up my hair with shampoo.

 

"I think it would be a good idea that after your shower you lie down and try to get some sleep." Dad suggested.

 

"I ain't even tired." I said.

 

"That aside, you didn't sleep last night so some quality pillow time is going to happen whether you think you are tired or not." Dad said in such a way that I knew I had best not argue with him.

 

Right then I let out a howl as shampoo ran down into both of my eyes, "SOAP IN MY EYES! SOOOOAP IN MYYY EEEEEYES!"

 

Dad had pulled open the shower curtain and held my eyes open to let the water flush them out for a moment before they mostly stopped stinging.

 

While holding my face under the water he made the statement, "How many times are you going to do this before you learn to keep your eye shut when washing your hair?"

 

A moment or two later he asked, "Better?"

 

"Well, my eyeballs are clean now!" I announced and dad chuckled at that.

 

"Nothing worse than dirty eyes." Dad commented.

 

"Maybe a dirty heart." I remarked without really thinking.

 

"Indeed!" dad agreed.

 

"Hey that would make for an interesting sermon." I observed.

 

Dad returned to his vanity post and I returned to scrubbing every part of me.

 

"I think I have a rash." I said through the shower curtain.

 

"I saw." Was his comeback line.

 

"Going to need some of the good stuff." I added.

 

"I'll get the Crisco from the Pantry." Dad joked.

 

"Eeew!" I moaned and laughed.

 

We talked a bit more about this morning's events and a bit about yesterday's talk with Tom, Dr. Lizy, and myself. Though he didn't actually come out and say it, I could tell from the unspoken words that he and mom knew everything about Rico; about how he and I had been intimate, and about my finally revealing that I'd been the one to kill him. I thought about the fact that I'd told them there would be no more secrets and I wondered if I should actually tell dad about it all right then. In the end I chose not to bring it up.

 

Before too much longer I turned off the shower and announced, "Clean as a new born baby!"

 

"Uh, if that is the case, you best stay in there longer." Dad said.

 

I laughed and opened the curtain.

 

Dad then helped me dry off before suggesting I go get my backside padded, but I said, "I need to shave my teeth. They feel fuzzy!"

 

Dad made a face. However, instead of me doing it, dad did it for me like he used to when I was real little. Actually it took us longer than if I had done it `cause we kept goofing around and got to laughing. When we were done I had to practically rewash my face in the sink `cause there was nearly as much tooth paste on my face as we got in my mouth. With one last spit into the sink dad draped the towel across my shoulders and back and then scooped me up into his arms as he carried me back to my room. Once back in my room he abruptly dropped me on the bed from several feet in the air. I bounced twice before coming to rest while laughing hard. Actually, on the second bounce I had gripped the bed so that I didn't bounce right off of it.

 

"Where's mom?" I giggled.

 

"Changing. So you are stuck with me pal."

 

That meant he had to round up the supplies that had flown off the bed when he had dropped me. Luckily the bottle of powder had been closed or there would have been a heck of a mess to clean up and it sure as heck wouldn't have been good for my asthma.

 

"Dad?" I started to say while he was smearing the butt-butter all over my backside.

 

"What's up?" he asked and I could tell he was concentrating more on the task at hand.

 

"I'm sorry!" I said and sort of remember dad saying something else, but I don't know what it was because right then I succumbed to sleep.

 

________________

 

 

I wish I could say that I had a really cool dream, but I think I was so tired that I didn't even have the energy to dream. I probably bypassed R.E.M. sleep and went right to Comatose. I also wish I could say I slept a very long time, but that wasn't the case either. I was only out of it for maybe thirty or forty minutes before I was reawakened by Lil' Vera. She apparently had been gone since I left for Ian's and only just came back. When mom had told me that, I suggested that maybe she was out looking for me.

 

Like I said I was sleeping soundly, wearing only what dad had put on me after my shower and that was just the disposable diaper. And it wasn't even one of the big disposable diapers; it was one of the Wal-Mart diapers that don't go nearly as high on the abdomen. Also, since it was such a warm summer afternoon I had no covers or sheets on me. Lil' Vera had jumped up on the bed and landed with claws out right on my tummy. Now maybe her claws came out when she landed unsteadily on me instead of the bed like she was probably expecting. Maybe she didn't even know I was there and I startled her as much as she had me. Or maybe she did know I was there and was getting even for me leaving her alone for so long again. Whatever her reasons for bearing her claws it is irrelevant. What is relevant was the affects her razor sharp talons had on my poor pink tummy.

 

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" I cried out.

 

Within a millisecond both of my parents came rushing into my room thinking that I was again flipping out on them.

"YOU STUPID CAT!" I screamed as she went running out of the room right past mom and dad, "Look what Lil' Vera did to me!"

 

She had actually drawn blood and left three long rips across my naked, fleshy belly right above my belly button and several shorter ones more to the side, which weren't quite as bad.

 

"Oh Simon you nearly gave us a heart attack!" Mom gasped.

 

"How do you think I feel?" I said angrily, "I swear Lil' Vera hates me!"

 

And just like that she was back, rubbing against the door jamb and playing her, "I'm so cute and sweet and you have to love me `cause I am a cat" act.

 

I was reclining back on my elbows so that mom could sit beside me to examine my tummy while dad bent down and picked Lil' Vera up.

 

"OUCH!" I cried out as mom touched me.

 

"Oh stop!" Mom said while pulling my hand away so that she could get a good look.

 

Dad was cradling Lil' Vera like a baby and scratching her tummy while making baby talk to her. She was eating it up too and purring loudly

 

"I'd trade her in for a dog, but she'd probably come back and kill me in my sleep!" I said.

 

Lil' Vera made a "Meep" sound as though she was agreeing with me.

 

"Now stop it." Mom said, "You probably scared her is all. I'll get something to put on that so it doesn't get infected."

 

"Yeah you can see I scared her to death!" I hissed while holding my tummy again.

 

I then saw the slash in the front of my diaper and said, "Well that's the end of this diaper."

 

Dad said something, but I didn't really hear what it was as he placed Lil' Vera on the chair to Jamie's desk and left the room for a moment. He wasn't gone long before he returned with a roll of silver duct tape in hand.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me!" I groaned.

 

He pulled on the tape, making it sing out that ripping sound only a fresh roll of duct tape can make.

 

In a jiffy dad had the rip in the plastic mended with two strips of tape in an X pattern right on the front of the diaper.

 

"Beautiful!" mom said without hiding any of her sarcastic thoughts.

 

She'd returned with the spray bandage stuff that hurts a lot when it first goes on, but then sort of numbs everything. I laid back, stuffed the corner of my pillow into my mouth and bit down on it while she applied the spray.

 

"Owwweeeee!" I bellowed however the pillow seemed to muffle it to some extent. And four or five seconds later all the pain was gone.

 

Mom wanted to take me out of the patched diaper but I objected, "I ain't even had time to get it wet yet."

 

"Yeah well you barely had time to get to sleep." Mom offered.

 

"Oh I can guarantee you that he was asleep. He didn't even stir when I moved his lifeless body onto the center of the bed and stuffed the pillow under his head." Dad said.

 

With little doubt of being able to get back to sleep right away I instead got up to put on some clothes. And once I had abandoned the bed, Lil' Vera took that chance to hop up on the bed and claim it as her own.

 

Mom and dad had left me to riffle through my closet in search of something to wear. I pulled on my Green Lantern T-Shirt and found a pair of sweat pants from my dresser to wear. I did my best to give Lil' Vera the cold shoulder, as I was still holding a grudge for her having mauled me in my sleep. However, she was doing her best to get me to pay her some attention. She was purring and meowing and carrying on until I finally acknowledged her presents.

 

"Are you sorry you hurt me?" I asked her as I sat on the side of my bed to pull on my running shoes without putting on socks.

 

"Meow!" she said which I think was her way of asking, "Are you sorry you scared one of my nine lives out of me?"

 

I slid off the edge of the bed and knelt on the floor with only my elbows on the mattress. Surprisingly, she only got wide eyed, but didn't budge at all. I put my face close to hers and without lifting her butt off the bed; she extended her neck so that our noses almost touched. That is the way she gives people kisses which she almost never does to me, but will just about anyone else. I suppose that little gesture was our way of making up. She even let me scratch between her ears which she has let me do maybe once or twice ever.

 

"You know, I wouldn't really trade you for a dog. You are better than any old mutt ever could be." I cooed to her.

 

She purred and flopped down on her right side and began chewing on her front paw like she was trying to get something out from between her toes. I took it as a sign that she was done with the pleasantries and wanted to be left alone.

 

Leaving her there on the bed I ventured out into the house with no real destination, but sort of half-heartily looking for mom and dad. Halfway down the hallway I had to stop and lean sideways against the wall while I stuffed a single finger into my right shoe as I hadn't got it on correctly. The back of it was rolled inward and irritating the back of my ankle. When I did that my hand rubbed against the GPS monitor. In an odd sort of way I felt kind of glad to see that it was still there as all too many times of late, when I have woken up it had somehow come up missing.

 

I located mom and dad together on the front porch. They were standing side by side, arms around one-another while watching some kids playing a game of street hockey in rollerblades. Apparently the birthday party kids had spilled out onto the street. They were using brooms, mops, and a couple kids had regular hockey sticks too.

 

"Who's winning?" I asked when I came out on the porch with them.

 

"I am not even sure they know." Mom laughed as we all saw Mary deflected a ball that a boy had shot at the goal she was guarding.

 

I think that is when I realized Mary was playing both goalie and referee.

 

Right about at that second two boys collided in the middle of the street. It looked painful, but they were both laughing afterward. Mary blocked another goal attempt and mom made the comment that Mary was a fair goalie. Dad with an arm around mom added that she could go pro when she is older.

 

Now I didn't know that I said what I said next, at least not at first.

"Yeah right! A girl in professional sports?" I scoffed.

Mom turned toward me and had a mischievous grin, "And what's wrong with a girl hockey player?"

I took a weary half step backwards as she pounced on me and quickly engulfed me in her arms as she started to tickle me.

"Say girls are better than boys!" she sang out.

"Mom no!" I giggled and wiggled as I tried to escape, but she didn't relent.

I managed to get away and tried to hide behind dad, but he just pushed me back to mom again.

"No fair tag teaming me!" I cried as mom tickled my arm pits again.

Eventually I gave up and agreed that girls are better than boys only so that mom would stop tickling me. All of us then settled down together on the front porch swing and watched the game which was more a free-for-all than any sort of organized game.

After a few minutes we were joined by Lil' Vera who appeared first out of nowhere on the porch railing. She walked the rail from over by the front door, out away from the house, across the front rail and then when she was at the end by the steps she sat and looked at us before deciding she wanted to join us on the swing. Boy was I surprised when she jumped up into my lap, and curled herself into a ball directly over the duct tape X on my padded and sweat pant covered crotch while letting her long tail drop down between my legs and wrap itself around my right thigh much the way a monkey might do to brace itself better up in a tree. I'm sure there is a joke somewhere in there about X marking the spot, but as I am typing this, nothing clever is coming to mind. Perhaps I really should be sleeping instead of up in the middle of the night trying to catch up on journaling.

"I guess she has forgiven you for scaring her earlier." Dad commented.

"Yeah, we made up before I came out!" I chuckled as I hesitantly began to pet her. She quickly got into it and let me know she was enjoying it by purring like a buzz-saw.

She was purring so hard that the vibrations of it could be felt all the way through my diaper and actually caused me to wet myself. I'm sure she enjoyed the warmth.

Maybe about twenty minutes later, and I'm just guessing at the time, mom announced that she was going to go inside to start getting ready for Andy and Gabby to arrive for a cookout. Now she had said `Cookout', but my brain instantly translated it to `Talk'. Dad asked if she needed help, but she told him to relax a bit. Maybe that was her sneaky way of telling him to stay out here with me. And maybe she was thinking we might need some quality, heart-to-heart, father/son time. I guess she wasn't aware of our heart-to-heart while I enjoyed a good wash and dad enjoyed a good steam bath.

When mom got up Lil' Vera lifted her head and watched her intently until mom was through the screen door. Only then did she tuck her head back tightly and went back to purring while I softly petted her.

Dad must have picked up on mom's hint `cause a minute or so after she went in, dad and I began to talk a bit. He asked how I was doing and I knew what he was asking too.

"Mostly ok," I said truthfully and then added, "but I won't lie. I keep having these micro explosions of emotion that come and go real fast."

We sat quietly for a while with dad holding me tightly to his side before I added with a timid sounding voice, "Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I know I said earlier that you and mom should have left me in jail..." I had to stop long enough to swallow a lump that had formed in my throat. Reaching up with my left hand I took a tight grip of dad's right hand which was resting flat against my chest. "I'm glad you didn't."

After that I couldn't talk for a while or I would have started crying and I think dad knew it cause he simply patted my leg with his other hand and pulled me in a bit closer, if that was even possible. I rested my head against his chest and that is how we stayed for a while.

Sometime later dad asked, "Why'd you put on long sweat pants on such a hot day?"

I don't think he saw that I grimace.

"I-I didn't really think about it, but," I thought for a second then said, "maybe inside I was kind of not wanting Mr. Freeman ... uh I mean Andy and Gabby to see my monitor." I had reached down and tugged up my pant leg to expose the electronic device.

When I had reached for my pant leg Lil' Vera woke up, yawned real big, stretched herself as long as she could and let out a groaning meow for having been woke up. She then stood up on my lap, arched her back like a witch's cat and then smacked me in the face with her tail before she leapt down. I think I got off easy with a tail whip for having so rudely disturbed her sleep. She sat at the end of the porch, right dab-smack in the center of the opening of the stairs and started to bathe herself which she almost never does.

Dad and I gave each other a knowing glance that said we were both thinking the same thing about her grooming herself.

We had still been holding hands over my chest, but he let go and patted my chest twice, "Well you are going to overheat. So why don't you go put on a pair of shorts."

"Think I should put on socks?" I asked.

"Listen, Andy and Gabby are not going to care a bit about your monitor! So no to the socks and I believe there is some sort of law that says boys are supposed to be barefoot in the summer time. However, if you feel like you must have shoes on, how about slipping on a pair sandals?"

I gave a sigh, rolled my head and eyes upward so that I could look at him. I then gave him the come here finger curl. He leaned over and I gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Love you dad."

He then pulled me into a full two armed hug. When he released me I again looked up into his face and saw that he was teary eyed which made me tear up too. If he hadn't done what he did next I bet we both would have broken down crying.

He gave my diapered butt a very firm swat. Actually it was more hip then butt however when I say `very firm' I mean it made a loud hollow thumping sound. Of course it didn't hurt, but it sure got my attention.

"Hey!" I whined.

"If you start crying you will make me cry." He said in a very dad-like tone and swatted me again. "Now go change your pants and comb your hair."

"My hair isn't messy." I said knowing full well I was setting him up just like he was trying to get me to do.

With both hands he violently tousled my hair and then playfully shook my head from side to side as though he were trying to fake a pass in basketball. Actually he did it so hard I almost slid off the swing, but he quickly caught me with a fast arm around my back and squeezed me to him to keep me from falling. I took that opportunity to pretend to blow my nose into his shirt.

"You nasty, nasty boy!" dad complained and before I could try to run away he managed to pull me across his lap, face down. Knowing what was coming I squirmed and wiggled but then...

WHACK!

WHACK!

WHACK!

He gave my backside three hard swats with the palm of his hand which, had I not been padded back there would have surely got me to bawling. Actually, the first whack probably would have been enough.

"HEY!" I complained and kicked my legs even harder to try to get away.

"Give him one for me!" I heard from somewhere off the porch. I knew the voice instantly.

 

"MARY HELP!" I shouted and managed to wiggle off dad's lap but not before he got in a fourth whack that sang out louder than the previous three, or maybe that was just my imagination because Mary was right there to hear it.

Mary was standing with her right foot on the bottom step and Lil' Vera was rubbing herself around Mary's leg and meowing loudly up to her. She was holding a paper plate with a big piece of cake and a scoop of ice-cream on it.

Ignoring dad, but keeping my distance from him just in case he wanted to land a fifth blow to my gluteus-rumpus.

"I thought you might like a piece of birthday cake and some ice-cream. Vanilla's your favorite right?"

I nodded and smiled wide.

Dad spoke up before I could, "Wow you didn't have to bring me cake!"

"Daaaaaad she didn't bring it for you! She's my girlfriend not yours!"

I looked at Mary and the sparkle in her eyes made me realize what I had just said. I think that was the first time I had come right out and called her my girlfriend or at least the first time I'd said it to her. Boy, she smiled so big and started to glow so brightly that I bet the people that live three galaxies over had to put on sunglasses or risk blindness from her radiance!

"I could bring you some too Mr. Leonard." she politely offered while not taking her eyes off me.

Dad laughed, "Thank you Mary, but I was only teasing."

And sensing that the two of us were having a seriously intense moment he excused himself with, "I-I'm going to go give your mom a hand getting things ready."

A thought quickly jumped into my head which snapped me out of my love-struck moment. I spun around and shouted, "I'm not allowed to be out here alone!"

That made dad pause, but then he looked past me to Mary, smiled and said to her, "Mary, raise your right hand."

She shifted the plate to just her left hand and held up her right.

"I don't know the words, but you better say I do!" Dad commanded.

I could have counted every tooth in her lovely smile as she said a confident, "I do!"

"Very well!" Dad said with a salute, "You are officially deputized and I'm leaving you in charge of Simon for the next few minutes. Make sure he comes in the house before you head back to your party. Okay?"

She giggled, adopted a very serious expression and then returned my dad's salute but in an, oh so cute, sort of way as she said, "You can count on me Sheriff!" and then that sweet lovely mouth of hers curled up at the corners. Oh boy, I'd seen her flash that evil grin before at Lowell's and I knew I was in trouble.

Still saluting she asked, "Do I have permission to use extreme force on this varmint, if needed?"

I couldn't help, but laugh out loud as I looked from her to dad and back as I waited for dad to reply.

He snapped to attention and this time gave her a sharp, military salute. "Permission granted and I wish you would. Might do him some good!"

She finally snapped her saluting hand to her side which was a bit too quick of a movement and caused Lil' Vera to take off for the bushes.

Dad left the two of us alone and Mary came up on the porch to give me my cake.

"Thanks." I said kind of goofily as I took it from her.

With my hands occupied she took hold of both of my biceps and pulled me forward enough to give me a kiss on the lips. WOW! Electricity shot through me and I thought my heart was going to jump right out of my chest.

My mouth suddenly went dry and though I tried, my brain didn't seem to be able to string two words together.

Mary, smiling, squeezed my arms and using her, `I'm the boss and you best do as I say' voice she said, "I best get back to the kids, so you best get inside."

I nodded dumbly and though I distinctly heard the command come from my head for my feet to move, they didn't seem to hear it.

Mary's smile faded ever so slightly, but I did notice the miniscule drop in her radiance. Once more she took hold of my right bicep with her left hand and ever so gently applied enough momentum to get me moving. I half turned and took a single step and that is when my brain and mouth reconnected... well sort of. What came out was a very bad stuttering which is something I hadn't done in ages; not since Madam M broke me of stuttering back on the Banachelli.

"Th-th-th-thank f-f-for the ice-cream and k-k-kiss... I-I-I m-m-mean c-c-c-cake." I instantly flushed so red that I could feel the heat radiating off my face.

The sudden return of stuttering made me so mad that I almost cussed and probably would have if Mary hadn't giggled and wrinkled her nose.

"Well now I know how to get your fire going fast." She said while righting my plate which was tilting forward quite a bit.

She didn't stop applying soft pressure to my bicep until I was inside far enough for her to close the screen door.

"See you later." She said with a wave much the way royalty does and turned to go.

"I LOVE YOU!" I shouted through the screen.

The words were out there before I had even known I'd said them.

She turned back, blew me a kiss and gave me a wink; then bounded down the front porch steps and skipped across our yard. With each skip her hair swung from one side to the other.

I didn't come back to earth until I felt someone trying to take the plate out of my hands. My eyes shifted from the retreating Mary in an almost ultra-slow-motion movement; traveling down my arms, to the plate to dad's strong hands, up his arms, past his shoulders, over his chin and coming to a stop at his eyes. His eyes... they were smiling and filled with warmth that finally thawed my frozen brain.

I let loose of the plate as dad said simply, "Wow!" and that one word said so much more. I knew that he knew that I was suddenly overcome with feelings like I had never in my life felt for anyone or anything. He extended his arm and draped it around the back of my neck as he walked me away from the door and toward the kitchen.

Mom was standing half in the kitchen and half out beaming with ... well I don't know how to say it. Pride? Love? I'm honestly not sure, but it was sure good.

Mom opened her arms welcomingly and I walked right into her embrace.

"I'll put this in the freezer for you to have after dinner." Dad said.

With my arms around mom's waist I pulled my head back to look up at mom and asked, "Do you think I freaked her out shouting like that?"

"Not at all!" she said, "I'd wager six months' worth of coupons that she'll be floating three inches off the ground for weeks to come."

"Think so?" I asked.

"I guarantee it!" Dad said from inside the freezer.

Mom leaned down and gave me a kiss on my forehead before saying, "Why don't you go get changed into some shorts and then you can help your father put the umbrella into the table out back."

I was nearly in my room before mom called after me, "Do you need changed yet?"

I stopped and thrust my hand inside the front of my diaper. I felt the familiar humidity that told me I had wet, but not a lot.

"I'm only a little wet." I shouted back.

While I was changing into my shorts I decided to take dad's advice and go without shoes altogether. With my cargo shorts on and my sweat pants and shoes put back into their places, I headed out to help dad with the umbrella.

"Want to help me clean and light the grill too?" Dad asked as the two of us struggled with the umbrella which for some reason was fighting us.

"Yeah!" I exclaimed knowing that the grill was dad's domain and to be invited to help with it was a true honor.

"Can you get the grill brush out of the stove drawer?" Dad asked.

I was back in a flash with the brush in hand.

Dad had opened the grill already.

"Do you know how to do it?" He asked.

For some reason, right then my mind went back to the time on the Banachelli when I'd tried to cook a big stew in the ships water boiler. I'd thought it was a big cooking pot but as it turned out, it wasn't made for cooking as it exploded and blew a hole in one of the walls. I smiled at the memory as I said, "I think I can do it. I've watched you do it loads of times."

I started at the front, right in the middle, just the way I'd seen dad do so many times, stretching all the muscles in my legs to their ultimate length and raising up on my tiptoes to reach all the way to the very back each time. I got the whole left side of the cooking grate cleaned and boy-oh-boy were the backs of my legs burning from being forced to exert so much when stretched to their limit. Dad commented at how good I was doing and asked if I wanted him to do the other side.

Feeling like he was trying to take away some great prize I said defiantly, "No way, I can do it!" and so he let me clean the right side too.

Boy my legs were screaming, so was my butt and arm muscles when I was done but with the whole grill grate cleaned, dad then proceeded to show me how to first turn on the propane tank underneath the grill, and then how to light the burners.

"You have to be sure the valve is all the way open." He said and then showed me how to set the two dials things on the front of the grill to the `START' position.

"Now press and hold this red button until the gas catches fire." Dad instructed while pointing at the button.

Wow! That button was stiff and I had to press down with both thumbs as hard as I could to get it pushed in.

"Press real hard." He coached; so I pressed as hard as I could without breaking my thumbs off.

There was a click, a pop, three more clicks and then the familiar whooshing sound as the four burners ignited.

He didn't have to tell me to let go of the button when the fire started `cause the whooshing sound, as it always has, caused me to jump back. I think it is something that is instilled in our genes. Gas explodes, whooshing sound proceeds boom, so if you hear whooshing sound, then get the heck out of there fast!

Dad chuckled as he said, "There you go. You did just fine!" he reached up for the lid's handle, "Now we close the lid and..."

When the lid was almost all the way closed a gust of warm air hit me in the face like a slap and I reacted as though I had been slapped.

Dad hadn't noticed my reaction to the heat as he continued to speak but despite the blast in the face I quickly jumped in with, "let it get good and hot!"

He smiled and said, "Exactly!"

"Now we need to turn the dials to the `HIGH' setting... right?" I asked while tapping one of the knobs with a single finger.

"Right again." He said and I quickly reached for them before he could.

"There you go!" he said, "All four of them. That's it. Good job!"

"Now you can take the brush into the house and place it in the dishwasher if you don't mind."

"Mind? Try to stop me!" I said as I launched myself to the left, leapt over one of the small side tables, landed in a crouch and then sprang in through the back door with the brush in hand.

"Oh yeah! I could totally be a superhero with my mad skills!" I thought as I deposited the brush into the dishwasher.

Mom then put me to work in the kitchen with her. She already knew I was handy in the kitchen `cause I had shared with them about how I'd learned a lot about cooking from Fyer back on the Banachelli. She had me slice grapes, peel and slice apples and even let me use the nut chopper to chop up a cup of walnuts for the Waldorf salad.

Of course, when it was time to mix in the Cool Whip and Mini-Marshmallows, I was more than eager to do that so that I could sample them both over and over again.

I was mixing the ingredients in the big plastic Tupperware bowl when I started to ask what time Mr. and Mrs. Freeman would be coming, but I didn't even get the full question out when the doorbell rang.

Dad had been coming in the back door right then and announced, "I'll get it!" in a sing-songy sort of way that matched the chiming of the doorbell.

I had to quickly chew up and swallow down the Mini-Marshmallows I'd been sneaking into my mouth.

I quickly turned to mom and asked, "How do I look? Do I have anything on my face?"

She wiped a bit of Cool Whip from my chin and said, "You look quite handsome!"

I suddenly realized my hands were shaking and my heart was racing.

Mom wiped her hands with the towel she was holding and started to remove her apron. She noticed me anxiously ringing my hands together.

"Are you nervous?" she asked.

I exaggeratedly nodded my head in a fast motion.

She patted my cheek and said, "Everything is going to be fine. Besides, it is only Andy and Gabby. It's not like you are meeting the Queen of England."

We could hear Mr. Freeman loudly greeting dad and I knew that laugh of Gabby's. It sounded exactly how it feels to put on a fresh pair of underwear straight from a hot clothes dryer.

Mom took my hand and the two of us walked into the living room together.

I didn't get to say hello or make even a peep before Gabby descended on me much the way the Allies had on Normandy Beach back in World War II. I was caught completely and utterly unprepared for her barrage of kisses that she peppered my face with and I probably would have died of lipstick poisoning had Andy not came to my aid.

"Let the boy breathe dear!" he commanded and attempted to pull her off of me.

She gave me one more kiss and hug just for good measure. I didn't realize until she released me that I had tears rolling down my face; apparently while I was trying to survive the kisses, something else within me was reacting to all the loving attention.

Andy firmly took hold of my chin and pulled my face upward.

"Now what's this?" he asked.

"Sorry." I said with a sniffle as I tried to wipe the evidence form my face.

"Happy tears or sad?" he asked without releasing my face.

Shrugging I croaked out an uncertain and barely audible, "Both?"

He pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket, gave it a snap in the air to unfold it and then used it to erase the evidence that I'd been weeping. He then dabbed at the divot below my nose before finally releasing my chin.

"Don't let him fool you Simon. He's been worrying himself frantic over you." Gabby said while pinching the back of Andy's arm.

"Ouch woman!" he cried and playfully swatted the air where her hand used to be.

Oh I wish she hadn't told me that about him, `cause it only made me feel worse.

Dropping my head in shame I said, "I'm sorry" I then dug my big toe into the carpet, "I've been such a butt."

I swear I didn't mean to say butt. It just came out. Wide eyed with shock I quickly looked up, covered my lips with both hands and mumbled past them, "Oh sorry."

Andy laughed and said, "Let's not forget that I know you have it in you to use far worse language."

"Tell me about it!" dad moaned while reaching out and grabbing my neck from the back. He then pulled my head backwards so that I was looking up at him.

I did my best to smile innocently, but I could tell he wasn't buying into what I was selling.

He released my neck with a bit of a push away from him as he then invited everyone out to the back patio, but us three guys went out there. Gabby insisted on giving mom a hand in the kitchen.

Dad and Andy talked about a bunch of stuff that I was only mildly interested in. To be honest I was getting desperate to talk about going back to school at Riverside Junior High, but I sat quietly and waited, and waited, and waited until I thought I was going to go mad if they didn't get around to me soon. Then Andy said something that made me completely forget about school for the time being.

"I almost thought we were going to have to cancel today." he said.

"Why's that?" dad asked.

Andy then looked right at me as he said, "I believe you know Mr. Peterson."

My eyes shot open and I pulled myself right to the edge of the lawn chair.

"I'm afraid he's not doing well at all." Andy said and then went on to say that several people have tried to get Mr. Peterson to go to the hospital, but he won't leave his house.

"He says when he leaves he'll do so feet first and then only when his body is stone cold."

I asked a bunch of questions about Mr. Peterson. Like why is he sick? How long he's been ill? How old he really is? Does he still have all those books? And...

Andy answered each of my questions, maybe not to my satisfaction, but as best he could.

"Apparently he's been sick for quite some time, but as you know, he lives in that big house all alone and doesn't have a lot of visitors. And as long as I have known him, he has never ventured beyond his own yard and even then that is quite rare for him. I cannot say how old he is, but if I had to guess; he must be close to a hundred if not real close to that.

He also offered some information that I hadn't been fishing for but found interesting. For instance, Mr. Peterson used to be the Mayor of Riverside for over two decades starting back in the fifties and sixties and before that he had Mr. Freeman's job ... in a way. Back then the Principle was also a teacher, a recess and hall monitor, and whatever else needed done in the school.

"I also know that he has served in both world wars." Mr. Freeman said.

I suppose, to Dad and Mr. Freeman, my question sounded ludicrous, but not to me. I had a real strong suspicion that Mr. Peterson was a lot older than Mr. Freeman or anyone else could guess. Actually, I'd had the suspicion since the first time I saw Mr. Peterson. Little did I know that at that current moment, I was more right than I thought and yet I hadn't even scratched the surface of this truth.

"Do you think he was in the Civil war too?" I asked.

They both laughed.

"Well, that is a bit of a stretch seeing how the Civil War ended in 1864." Dad chuckled.

"1865" Mr. Freeman, I mean Andy, corrected.

Dad asked, "65? Are you sure?"

Andy rocked back in his chair as he laughed loudly again and with a nod he said, "1865, although the official day is something of a controversy, but for sure 1865."

Realizing they were getting off topic again I asked dad, "Can we maybe go see him?"

Mr. Freeman then told me, "Now that you brought it up; he has been asking about you. He seems urgent in his desire to see and speak with you again. Your name comes up at least once every time I am over there."

"He does? Really? Dad can we go? Maybe later tonight or tomorrow?"

Andy went on to say, "I told him I wasn't sure if you could come anytime soon due to your probation and recent incarceration."

That was the first that my probation and weekend legal troubles had been brought up since they had arrived. Though I didn't care for the word `incarceration', I was truly delighted that the conversation was finally going in the direction I wanted it.

"I know you've got history with him." Dad started to say, "I am sure something can be worked out."

And right on cue there was a loud meow from behind Andy. We all looked to see Lil' Vera sitting comfortably a top a wood fence post on the far side of the driveway.

"That's my cat Lil' Vera." I told Andy.

He had turned in his seat when she had meowed so loud.

"Well you sure are a beautiful lady." He said to her.

She meowed again while looking right at him.

Andy turned back around as I began to explain that Lil' Vera was the kitten of Mr. Peterson's cat who had been with me on the Banachelli. I then shared the whole story of how Lil' Vera's mom had become my protector and how I'd brought her home when I came back the first time.

"Mr. Peterson often talks about how you brought Vera back to him." Then Andy shared something that I didn't know. Mr. Peterson's cat used to be a fairly famous cat. Vera had been raised in a traveling carnival with a magician.

"How did Vera end up with Mr. Peterson then?" I asked.

"I'm not entirely sure. I don't think Mr. Peterson ever actually shared that with me." Andy said while rubbing the bridge of his nose thoughtfully.

"Well, Lil' Vera is a lot like her mother was. Her mom could barely stand me and only seemed to come around when I needed her most." I leaned to one side to look past Andy to Lil' Vera as I continued to say, "but I think I might be growing on Lil' Vera." And then talking to Lil' Vera I said, "You were actually sleeping in my lap earlier weren't you?"

She gave a dismissive "Meow" as she turned her head to the side and stuck her nose in the air like she was saying, "I am sure I don't know what you are talking about!"

The three of us sat and talked a bit more about Mr. Peterson until mom and Gabby came out to join us. They were carrying a tray with a bunch of mom's fancy glasses that she only takes out for special company. Also on the tray was a large pitcher of freshly squeezed Lemonade, there was even real lemon slices floating in it along with ice cubes.

Gabby sat beside her husband, mom beside me, putting me between her and dad.

Gabby started out by asking me, "So were you able to talk him into allowing you to return to school?"

"Actually, it hadn't come up yet." I said as a strong hint that I was dying to talk about it.

And so we did. It wasn't really a bit deal. Andy said summer school was scheduled to begin a week from Monday. He said that after dad had called he got right to work making sure I was enrolled and that a desk was reserved for me. He also said that if I work hard, with his help of course, he believes that I could get caught up before the new school year begins. However, he also said it might take longer than the three weeks of summer school. He thinks I will have to spend the rest of my summer with my nose in my school books. Of course I assured him over and over again that I would give him 110%.

He did give me two conditions though. I am not allowed to get into any trouble and that includes disrupting his school in any way shape or form. He didn't actually list past examples, but he didn't have to. I already had several prior scenarios running rampant in my head. His second condition was that I had to be completely honest and feel free to come to him anytime, day or night if I felt that my school work was hindering my recovery in any way shape or form. As a sub-condition to his second condition, he reserves the right to pull the plug on this `catch-up' plan if he or my parents sees that it is in anyway interfering with my recovery. Mom and dad really like that sub-condition; I was kind of worried about it to be honest, but I didn't let it show. At least I don't think I let on.

When I brought up that I wanted to talk with Coach Shaffer about trying out for the team again Andy put a big NO on that for now.

"I know you feel you owe the school, Mr. Shaffer, and your former team mates something. But I'm telling you here and now. You will not be taking part in any extracurricular activities until I am completely, and entirely sure that you have caught up academically." He went on to say, "And have proven to me, your doctor, your probation department; and most importantly, to your PARENTS..." boy he really drove home the word `PARENTS', "...that you can keep your nose clean and keep up with school."

And then Andy stopped being Andy and suddenly became Principle Freeman... the same Principle Freeman that I'd seen chew out Peter Alderman and his friends so long ago. He leaned forward in his chair and pointed a very stern finger at me. Now I have known Andy for some time. I can still remember when I first had a run in with him and how way back then I had thought he sounded just like Mark Twain from the movies with that southern twang and all, but right then, more than any other time, he sounded sooooo much more Southern and sooooo much more like Mark Twain but not in a good way at all. No, he sounded angry and very, very, serious.

"You've been through more crap than any ten men could endure and for the most part you've come through all of it in one piece. I admire you for that. However, it seems to me that you have not fully accepted or come to understand the full impact of your actions on the lives of each and every single person around you."

His finger moved away from me and to mom and dad for a moment, but then was right back on me.

"You want to come back to my school? I think that is commendable. However, I don't want you to think for one minute that a fool is sitting across from you right now!"

He then pointed off into the distance and until he said what he said next, I hadn't realized that he was pointing to the Junior High School right then.

"Remember my old book of names?" he asked.

I instantly saw in my mind the old brown leather book which he keeps in his desk drawer. Once while I and Tater Winston were in Principle Freeman's office along with my parents, he had shared with us his book. It was filled with thousands and thousands of names of every boy and girl that has attended his school since he became Principle. He would circle some, but not all of the names in blue ink and there were even a few names scratched out with red ink. Those whose name had been scratched out were the unfortunate names of people who had passed away. If your name was circled in blue, you were a trouble maker. There were also a few names with stars next to them. Mr. Freeman had told us that those were for special boys and girls that he had the wonderful pleasure of working with personally. Back then I had taken a great deal of pride in knowing that I was one of his Star students.

 "You were once one of my Stars," Mr. Freeman had said, which snapped me back to the present, "however now you have lost your star and have instead gained a blue circle!"

"BLUE?! I was now thought of as one of his troubled kids!" I thought and tried to swallow but I had no saliva.

"You have a lot of growing up and a lot of trust to earn back. And I'm going to be honest with you; I don't believe you even know yet just how many bridges you have burned and how many lives your actions have fouled up."

His hand dropped to his knee. He leaned back into his chair, still eye balling me exactly the way he did to Peter Alderman and his friends that day in his office. I remember how scared Peter and the others had seemed, but now I know that I didn't really have a clue just how scary it was to be in Mr. Freeman's cross hairs. I was scared to move, to blink, or to even breathe.

I couldn't take his staring at me like that and had to drop my eyes away from his. When I looked to my parents for their reaction I was surprised to see them both looking at me the exact same way Andy... I mean Mr. Free... I mean... ah heck I don't know what I am supposed to call him now.

From the way all four of them were looking at me I got the feeling that he had just said what many in my life have been wanting to say to me for a while now, but hadn't for fear of causing me to relapse or maybe because they all know that I haven't been exactly mentally sound for the past few months.

All five of us sat in silence for... gee-whiz I don't know how long it was. At any rate, I honestly didn't know what to say. Then an idea hit me. Well, hit isn't the right word. It wasn't violent like that, it was more like a seed in the ground that breaks the surface of the soil and begins to stretch and grow. It took several seconds to mature and while it did my backside began to slide forward in the seat to the edge. I wasn't looking at anyone, but I think they could tell that something was happening inside my skull. I don't recall standing, but I did find myself with my bare feet on the patio and I was slowly backing toward the door of the house. I looked to mom, then dad, then to Mr. Freeman and Gabby.

"I-I'll be right back." I said and quickly turned and ran into the house.

I wasn't gone, but a fraction of a minute. I had to get something from my room; I ran all the way there and back. When I had returned dad was up and coming to check on me. When he saw me running back he stepped out of my way and returned to his seat. Each of them looked completely puzzled; I guess they hadn't expected me to react like I did.

Pausing at the door for only an instant I held out my right hand. My fingers were closed around something. As though I was presenting a treasure to a king I walked slowly, but purposefully toward Mr. Freeman. When I was standing right in front of him I uncurled all of my fingers at once the way a lotus flower opens. Resting in the palm of my hand was my sobriety coin I had been given before leaving The Ranch.

"This is my sixty-day coin." I started to say, but had to stop speaking before I got past the first word because I got too choked up.

I can remember with odd clarity how clammy Mr. Freeman's skin felt when, with my other hand I reached out, took hold of Mr. Freeman's right hand, turned it palm up and placed my coin directly in the center of his palm. I then folded his fingers over it all at once like a flower closing its' peddles. I then gave it a tap with my finger as though I were somehow magically sealing his hand shut.

Clearing my throat I said again, "This is my 60 days coin. I have a little less than two weeks until I am able to trade it in for a 90 day coin."

Despite my efforts to keep it from happening, my eyes filled with tears right to the point of bursting.

"You can't keep it!" I croaked, "I'm only letting you hold on to it for me `cause soon I'm going to ask for it back."

He studied his closed hand for a moment and then looked back to me. I could tell just from his eyes that he understood my symbolic gesture.

"Alright, I'm going to hold you to that promise." He said; making it sound a bit like a threat.

Once again, I could not have known then that later this same day, everything that has lead me to this very point would be called into question; and my right to even have that small coin would be called into question.

I then turned to mom and dad and wanted to say something; I wanted to tell them how much I loved them and how sorry I was for hurting them. I wanted to tell them I was going to earn their trust again, but one look at mom and dad who were both looking at me with tears, and I lost it. All I was able to do was cry as I rushed toward them and threw myself into their arms.

When they finally loosened their embrace and I lifted my head up from moms' now wet shoulder; I saw that both Mr. Freeman and Gabby were holding each other and crying too.

Dad was the one to break up the tear fest. He lifted me so that I was standing on my own feet in front of him and mom. He wiped at my red, swollen, tear-stained face and said, "I love you... but I have to tell you one thing."

I felt my body stiffen in preparation.

He was holding me around both elbows as he smiled and said, "You really stink!"

I was already red in the face from having been crying so hard, but when I realized what dad was referring too, I blushed so much that I could feel my face throbbing with each beat of my heart. I'm not sure why I got so embarrassed; I mean Gabby has changed both my wet and messy diapers many times when I was the hospital and Mr. Freeman not only knows I wear diapers, but has seen my diapers a few times and I don't mean just when I was in the hospital either. But still, I got soooo embarrassed to the max and I wanted to hide my face so that no one could see how red it was.

Mr. Freeman seemed to find it all too funny to contain and lost it! He laughed so hard I thought he was going to have a coronary right there on our back patio. Mom tried her best not to laugh as she pushed dad away, effectively breaking his grip on me.

Gabby swatted her husband rather hard for laughing at my predicament, but that didn't seem to stop him from laughing at what dad had said.

"Come on, I'll get you cleaned up." Mom said as she stood up and took me by the hand just as though I were a toddler that needed to be walked back into the house.

"Boy oh boy Simon!" mom exclaimed when she opened my diaper.

It was a messy one and stunk bad. It took her forever to get me cleaned up back there and even at one point I gagged on my own stench. Mom made the comment that it was probably due to all the emotions and mental trauma that my body was flushing out of my system. I don't know if that is true or based in any sort of real medical information but it sounded logical to me. At one point mom almost decided to send me to the shower instead of using up so many baby wipes to get me cleaned up.

Freshly buttered, powdered, and tapped into a new disposable; I got back into my shorts and rejoined everyone outside. While I had been gone, dad had set up the oscillating pedestal fan to get the air moving on the back patio and to also keep the bugs from bothering us as much.

When I came back out Mr. Freeman apologized for laughing and assured me that he wasn't laughing at me, but at my father. I told him it was okay. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out my 60 day coin.

"Are you sure you want me to hang on to this?" he asked.

I nodded, "Yep, I am very sure."

He smiled and dropped it back into his pocket.

"In that case," He said while patting his pocket reassuringly, "I will keep it safe for you."

________________

 

 

The rest of the afternoon was much more relaxed; there were no more tears or strong negative emotions, which was good because I was completely drained. Thankfully there were plenty of positive emotions flowing. At one point Mr. Freeman even had me laughing so hard I peed, which isn't really a hard thing to get me to do, but I am sure you know what I mean. I normally wouldn't have noticed, but for some reason this time tickled a bit as the urine flowed around my boyhood parts. You see, most of the time when I wet a diaper I don't notice because I don't pee like normal people do. I don't save it up for hours and hours then let go in a long hard stream. No, anymore I trickle all the time. About the only time I will flood a diaper all at once is when I have been sitting or lying in such a way that my bladder doesn't fully empty or like this time, I was laughing so hard that the pee was literally forced out of me.

When it came time to eat we moved into the house as it was just too hot outside; plus the smoke from the grill was blowing in under the patio roof. It smelled great but it made us cough and was burning our eyes. Dad closed up the house and turned on the central-air. We three guys were in the living room listening to Mr. Freeman telling us about this funny thing that happened at school last year. Mom and Gabby were in the kitchen chatting away as well. I'm not real sure when it happened, but I fell asleep. I mean I zonked right out and didn't even wake up when dad picked me up and carried me to my bed.

I wasn't out for very long. I woke again a little more than an hour later due to a rather nasty dream. I am not going to write about it because I don't want to think about it again right now. I'll just say it was about Rico and now you know what it was about.

Anyway, I woke up with a start and quickly determined that I was in my own room. I paused for a second, and then quickly realized of what I had been dreaming and to rid myself of it I shook my head violently. Mind clear, for the most part, I rolled onto my side, threw my feet over the side of the bed to the floor and pushed myself up to a sitting position. It was only then that I saw that my shorts I had been wearing were now neatly hanging from the bunk bed post on Jamie's side of the room. All I had on was a slightly damp diaper.

Thinking that the Freemans were still here I decided I'd better slip back into my shorts. However, on my way around the foot of the bed my left foot found my skateboard.

"OH SON OF A!" I said through clenched teeth but caught myself before finishing that thought.

I didn't actually stub a toe. Somehow the edge of the board had managed to go right between my pinky toe and the next toe. It felt like my foot was split right down the middle and I had to grab the foot of my bed to keep myself from kissing the floor.

"Oh crud that hurts?" I whimpered and moaned until the pain subsided enough that I could walk again.

Limping and walking in the inside part of my left foot; I slipped around to retrieve my shorts. I lowered to the bed, inspected my foot to be sure I hadn't broken anything and, then very carefully slid my shorts over that foot.

On the way back around the bed I used my right foot to send the board rolling under the bed where it wouldn't be able to hurt anyone ever again.

"What the heck was it doing there in the first place?" I moaned as I heard it collide with something solid under the bed.

Curiosity is a tough emotion to resist and in my tired, wounded state I was no match for it. I lowered myself to one knee and one hand. As I was going down my brain flashed on the memory of when I'd thought I had seen red eyes under my bed just the other day and I actually hesitated for an instant to consider whether I really wanted to look or not. In the end my fear of what I might find overpowered my curiosity. I rose back up without looking under the bed and left my room, still favoring my left foot a bit.

I found mom and dad sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea and talking alone. They hadn't seen or heard me come into the room either and I don't think I was supposed to hear what I heard. Now I wasn't trying to eaves drop, or trying to be quiet or sneaky; I had simply hobbled in at exactly the wrong time.

"...is time I get rid of my apartment and move back home for good." Dad had said.

I saw mom place a hand over dads as she replied, "I was wrong before; I should never have suggested we separate."

"WHAT!?" I shouted with insurmountable disbelief and shock.

I startled them both, causing mom to spill her lemonade across the table and onto dad.

"Simon!" Dad said with alarm when the ice cold lemonade splashed his shirt and flowed into his lap.

"Oh honey we didn't know you were awake." Mom said trying to contain the spill with just a single paper napkin.

Finally abandoning any efforts to contain the spill they both left their chairs and swooped down on me like two large birds of prey; however both stopped dead when I quickly retreated a step or two. I'm sure the look on my face also helped them understand I was freaking out.

Now what mom and dad had been talking about was a separation... what my fragile mind heard was the big D-word----DIVORCE.

I abruptly heard Mr. Freeman's earlier words replaying as though broadcast through a stadium speaker system, "You haven't fully accepted or understand the impact of your own actions on the lives of everyone around you."

Holding my head in bewilderment and disbelief I shouted, "OH MY GOD I MADE YOU GET A DIVORCE?!"

An unbelievable pain hit me square in the chest, like being mule kicked, only worse. I let go of my head and clutched frantically at my bare chest. I could see mom and dad's mouth's moving, but no sound seemed to be coming out. There was a round darkness that encircled them both and was collapsing in on itself as Dad threw himself at me. He had reached out to grab me, but missed. I didn't know it, but I was falling backward. They were both reaching out for me now, and they appeared to be shouting but still there was no sound.

Oh boy the pain in my chest was so bad and then it dawned on me why I was in such pain; I couldn't breathe. I was hurting so bad that I didn't know I was falling until my body hit the floor; I fell like a tree falling in the woods with my head hitting last and hardest. With a crack my head bounced off the floor once but was then caught by dad before it could bounce a second time.

I was clawing into the flesh of my neck, trying to breathe. Somehow I had skipped over panic and went right into full blown hysteria. My body flopped like a fish out of water, my arms began to flail and my legs frantically kicked as mom hurdled over me in slow motion. Dad's face was in my face, his expression told me he was urgently trying to tell me something, but I couldn't hear anything.

Maybe twenty seconds had gone by from the point my asthma attack began and mom had retrieved one of my inhalers from the hallway bathroom, but to me, it had felt like an eternity. The shock of learning that I'd caused my parents to get divorced had thrown me into one of the worst asthma attacks I have had in a long, long, time; maybe even the worst ever. When I had shouted, I had expelled the contents of my lungs, so my throat closed and I was instantly without a source of any oxygen; which is why things went so bad, so fast for me.

At some point I had closed my eyes. I am not sure when, but when I felt something hitting my teeth hard I again opened my eyes. It took four hits on my inhaler and an epinephrine shot in my left thigh muscle before I was able to take a labored but decent breath. Sitting up though took a lot longer. Each time I tried to move, my head screamed and my vision darkened.

Much to my regret, I once again got to go to the hospital. You see, when my head hit the floor, it didn't just hit the floor and bounce; I had hit that little metal strip that holds the edge of the carpet. I didn't, in point of fact, crack my skull, but I sure did bust open the skin back there. I'd also managed to scratch the heck out of my neck with my nails before dad could get my arms under control.

We were at the hospital for a couple hours as my head was stitched up and they made sure everything was okay. I had to have an x-ray of my head which hurt a lot but I didn't let the Asian x-ray technician know he was hurting me. I simply sucked it up and let him get his job done.

During my return visit to the hospital I was visited by Mr. Davis, my probation officer, a rather unhappy and tired Tom Segal. I also got a surprise visit from a Nurse Bridget who was one of the nurses I had met during my stay after getting beat up by Peter Alderman and his friends. She was working in the emergency room that particular evening to cover the shift for another nurse who had got married the day before. The reason Mr. Davis and Tom were there was because in the rush to get me to the hospital we failed to notify anyone that I was leaving the house and thus my ankle monitor had alerted Mr. Davis and Tom that I was out and about. Thankfully I didn't get in trouble, but neither was all that happy to see me again so soon.

I had been lying on my stomach while this lady was putting stitches in the back of my head when Tom walked in with Mr. Davis right behind him. I couldn't actually see either of them but I could hear them as Dad explained what happened and apologized for not having thought to notify anyone that I was leaving the house.

"Well under the circumstances." Mr. Davis said with a hint of humor to his voice.

I was glad to hear he wasn't mad.

From my prostrated position I was a perfect target for Tom, who, if you ask me, took way too much joy in teasing and taunting me. I was actually glad when he and Mr. Davis left as I wasn't taking his good hearted fun too well. Despite the medication they had already given me as well as the five shots I'd been given in the back of my head, I was still hurting and had one whopper of a headache and I guess that was making me grumpy. I'm just glad I didn't actually say anything and just laid there and let Tom have his fun.

The three of us, mom, dad and I, also had time to talk. They made me understand that they did not get a divorce nor were they ever going to get one. They just had to take some time apart. I know moms and dads fight sometimes. I can even remember more than a few times that I've seen and heard mine yelling at each other. But it was never more than yelling and after a bit they made up and we went on with our lives. However, this time the stress and strain of their son being kidnapped, being found, then running away and again being found only to have to send him away, all got to be too much for the two of them. They were fighting all the time and felt some time apart was what they needed. I don't like it, I don't think I will ever like it, but it happened and they assured me that never at any time did either of them ever, ever, ever, think of getting divorced.

Twenty-seven stitches later and pumped full of drugs, I was allowed to go home but not until after I was given a prescription of antibiotics and also changed into one of those thin, green hospital diapers. As I was being helped to sit up I was ordered to take it easy for a few days and to not sleep on my back for a couple days.

As I was being wheeled out by the nurse who had helped me sit up, Dad got an alarming call on his cell phone. It didn't take long for mom and me to realize that something was wrong just by the tone of his voice. Since we had parked kind of close, the nurse wheeled me all the way to our car. I was then that dad finally got off the phone and told us that it was Mr. Freeman that had called but didn't tell us what the call was about until I was in the backseat and bucked in. He then told us that Mr. Peterson had taken a turn for the worst but I could tell by the way he said that, that there was more to it.

"He has asked to see you." Dad said to me in this, I'm not sure I should tell you, sort of voice.

I looked at mom who was also turned around in her seat so that she could see me.

"Maybe tomorrow would be better." she suggested, but something in dad's eyes changed her mind, "Well, ok. Maybe a short visit then."

So we quickly made our way out of the hospital parking lot, which didn't take long at all. It took about fifteen minutes to drive to Mr. Peterson's place on the dead-end cul-de-sac of Lehar Place. Just seeing the white cracking and peeling painted house, the once dead flower beds, which were now alive with thriving weeds, and the big out of place darkly stained, solid wood door with one of those old-fashioned iron doorknockers in the middle of it had brought back memories of my previous reasons for being at this house. It took me a second to realize that there used to be big, unkempt bushes in front of the house and also along the far side as well, but they were all gone now. I felt sad over the absent bushes. Once upon a time I had used those bushes to hide myself from a crazed man out to harm me.

We didn't get to knock on the door as it swung open while we were opening the car doors. Mr. Freeman had swung opened the big wooden door to come out to greet us. He exclaimed rather loudly and in such a thick southern accent that it took a second for my brain to translate it.

"What did you do to yourself this time?"

The reason he said that, was because there was a wide, white bandage wrapped around my noggin, which was holding the gauze tightly over my wound in the back. Plus since I wasn't wearing a shirt he could see the red, raw scratch marks on my neck.

"What makes you think I did it?" I said back.

I felt mom's hand between my shoulder blades. She said, "That darn floor shouldn't have been where your head was going; huh?"

I looked up at her and chuckled at her humor. It was something I would have expected dad or even myself to say, but not my mom.

Mom then explained to Mr. Freeman that I'd had an asthma attack, collapsed and hit my head.

Making his way around the front of our car dad added, "He managed to hit the metal carpet bar."

"OUCH!" Mr. Freeman said while making a pained face and rubbing the back of his head, "That must have smarted."

The four of us headed for the house and it was when I began to climb the steps up to the front door that I realized just how much that asthma attack and everything else that has happed to me the past couple of days had taken out of me. The abundance of medications in my system now was probably a large factor as well as I made it up the first step with no problem, but not the second. I tripped and had dad not reacted as fast as he had, we would have been going right back to the hospital to get my face fixed.

"You alright?" Dad asked while helping me reacquire my balance and footing.

I shook my head no, but said, "I think I'm okay."

As I approached the open door my hand rose up and caressed the old wood, which felt warm to the touch due to the sun having baked its dark finish for the past few hours. The first time I had seen that door I had been running for my life and looking for somewhere to escape from some creepy predator in an equally creepy van.

"What was his name?"

"What's that?" Dad asked from right behind me.

He had a firm hold of my left bicep still with no sign that he planned to let go of it.

"Huh?" I grunted over my shoulder.

"Whose name?" he asked.

Realizing I'd been thinking out loud again I said, "Oh no one."

Stepping into the front room I was again reminded of that first visit. It was exactly as I remembered, but to mom and dad, who had never seen inside Mr. Peterson's house, it was sure a shocker. Books stacked on books on top of more books. Books acting as chair legs. Books stacked like columns that appeared to hold up the floor above us. Books stuffed under and stacked on top of tables and only narrow paths between them to get from room to room. The one difference I noticed was the fireplace which during my first visit had been blazing but was now so packed with books that you couldn't have got a single sheet of paper in there.

We were greeted by none other than our family physician who, in my opinion and my opinion is the one that matters; I have seen way to much off in the past couple years. It turns out that Dr. O'Neil is also Mr. Peterson's doctor and he only lives two houses away.

It seems, when they left our house Mr. and Mrs. Freeman stopped by to check on Mr. Peterson and to give him a plate of food mom had sent with them when she found out they were coming. When they arrived at the house they found that a pile of books had fallen on Mr. Peterson. Paramedics were called and they tried to take him to the hospital, but he refused to go. So instead he was carried upstairs and put into his bed. Dr. O'Neil had been on his way home from his clinic and saw the paramedics so he rushed in to check on Mr. Peterson.

As we came into the front room, Dr. O'Neil was coming down the staircase. He spotted my bandage on my head in an instant and he was not happy at all that I was at Mr. Peterson's after such a horrible asthma attack. And he had some unkind words concerning the fact that the self-inflicted scratch marks on my neck hadn't been addresses at all. Basically, in the space of three, maybe four minutes, I was giving a rather thorough going over from head to toe. He even said something about the scratches on my tummy from Lil' Vera. When he reached for the waistband of my shorts I quickly grabbed ahold of them for fear he was going to pants me right there in front of God and everyone. I mean I wouldn't put it past him.

"Relax, I'm just checking out these scratches." He said.

"Oh, Lil' Vera did it."

"I'm guessing that Lil' Vera is a small mountain lion?" he said and I wasn't sure if he was joking or not.

"No, just a cat with an evil streak." I said and quickly inhaled `cause the doctor tickled me.

"Sorry," he said robotically.

He continued his examination and I got rather concerned when he acted so concerned after he conducted some simple reflex tests, He had been rapidly snapping his fingers by my ears and making me watch his ink pen as he moved it all around. Apparently I didn't react the way he would have expected and insisted that my parents bring me to see him at his office after the weekend. Dad promised to call and make an appointment first thing Monday morning.

Mr. Freeman cleared his throat loudly from just outside the door. "Uh, if the boy passes inspection, I think the rest of us are about to pass out from heat stroke out here."

Excuses were made; bodies jockeyed for placement among the vast collection of books. In the process one big stack of books near the front door toppled and had mom not taken a step forward she would have been partially buried. As it was a few books got the back of one of her legs and made her almost fall backward but dad and Mr. Freeman caught and steadied her.

Mom remarked rather emotionally about the condition of the house as well as the books, the dust and oh my goodness she about went nuts about the dust. I believe I have shared before about how my mom is a cleaning nut case. So I am sure you can imagine how being in such a dusty place would be driving her positively insane with desire to clean. I bet it was taking every ounce of her strength to resist those cleaning urges.

Now I had never been in the upstairs part of Mr. Peterson's house. Actually the only reason I know there is an upstairs is because of the three steps and the landing that are just to the right of the front door when you first come in. Oh well from the outside anyone would see that there were second story windows, except for me. I had never taken notice of them ever. I am not sure what I was expecting to see when I stood on the landing and looked up the stairs. Maybe I was expecting that the upstairs would be like a sanctuary away from the books, but it wasn't. The stairs were oddly void of books or anything to clutter them, save for the enormous stuffed owl with wings outstretched. It sat perched atop a cast iron looking bird stand on the landing. It looked just as scary as I had remembered; maybe even a bit more so.

So like I was saying, the stairs were oddly void of books and instead the walls on either side of the staircase were completely filled with framed pictures of people, things, places, and newspaper clippings. I didn't have time to take them in due to leading the parade of adults behind me up the stairs with dad helping to steady me as my legs groaned with each labored step up.

Once we reached the top of the stairs we were again greeted by mountains of books lining the walls of the hallway. There wasn't a single inch of wall showing anywhere either. That is until we got to the bedroom that Mr. Peterson was laying in. There, not only did we find a bookless room, we found Gabby sitting beside the bed on an antique looking upholstered backless chair.

But before seeing either of them, as I opened the wooden paneled door I came to a screeching halt. It was as though I had stepped through some rip in space and had stepped back onto the Banachelli. It was as though the bedroom had somehow been cut from the ship itself and placed within Mr. Peterson's house.

Standing slack jawed dad ran into the back of me, forcing me to enter the room. My eyes went all over the room, taking it all in and I was about to ask how it was possible when I saw Gabby sitting beside Mr. Peterson.

Mr. Peterson was sitting up in bed and seemed nearly as I remembered him from our first meetings. His white pearl eyes appeared to look right at me as a withered brown hand lifted up from his side and a single boney finger motioned for me to come to him. Gabby rose from her seat and moved toward mom and dad as I stepped up beside the bed. It was only then that I saw curled up on the foot of the bed was none other than Lil' Vera, my cat.

Mom and dad saw her too, but mom was the one to say what we all three were thinking, "So this is where you run off too all the time!"

Mom went on to explain to the others that Lil' Vera is my cat and would go missing for hours and even days at a time.

Lil' Vera gave me a glance then laid her head down but didn't close her eyes. She looked so very sad.

Turning my attention to the old man I spoke softly, "Hello Mr. Peterson."

If it was even possible, his face appeared to be thinner; his skin more dehydrated and his wrinkles more pronounced. His shoulder length hair appeared to have been combed recently, perhaps by Gabby, but still looked greasy and hung in grey bunches. Once more I thought it seemed to me like an old shimmering veil, but more so now than ever before. I remember he once towered over me by a couple feet, but now, he seemed so small, so fragile; like a ten-thousand year old parchment that would disintegrate if I tried to touch him. And as much as everything about him seemed so much older; those eyes of his, capped with bristled brows still had a power behind them that seemed to flicker like a florescent lamp that is about to go bad.

He motioned for me to come even closer.

I was already right beside the bed so I leaned down and he took hold of my head with both hands. I won't lie, it hurt more than a little due to having given myself a concussion earlier, but I didn't let on. His eyes always make me feel like they are boring right through my skull and scanning my brain cells; this time was no different.

He made a queer sounding grunt, almost sounding confused. He then spoke and that breath of his hadn't got any better.

"You don't seem to need anything." He said kind of loud, as if he wanted the others to hear what he was saying.

I tried to shake my head, but he still had a good grip; actually, I was surprised by his strength.

"That might be, but I can tell you something I sure would like." I started to say.

He let go and his hands dropped to the bed as though he had no more strength to keep them up.

"I'd like it if you would let them take you to the hospital."

He made an irritated sounded grunt as his right hand rose again and claw-like took hold of the back of my neck and pulled me so close that I thought he was going to kiss me, but instead he whispered.

"I lied." He said that so soft and drawn out that it sounded more like a raspy exhale. I had thought his breath stunk the first time I met him, now it reeked of putrefied flesh, "Everything you will ever need is coming to you but the thing you need most, the thing you so urgently need, you will find in a wooden box under the galley sink downstairs. Guard it well my boy, guard it well." Then using his other hand he thrust something small into one of my hands, but did so in such a way as I don't think anyone saw him do it. "Don't let anyone know, it is for you alone."

And with that, his hand dropped away from my neck and his head fell to the side as he exhaled long and slow.

"GABBY!" I cried in a loud, fear filled; whisper while backing away from the bed.

I moved out of the way as she quickly stepped past me and placed two fingers against his neck. I had backed right into mom and dad's arms which were now holding me firmly from behind.

Dr. O'Neil pushed past everyone and around to the far side of the bed where he knelt with one knee onto the mattress causing the springs to cry out under the added strain. He reached beneath the covers and placed his stethoscope against Mr. Peterson's chest to listen for any heartbeat.

They didn't have to tell us; we could tell just by their body language that Mr. Peterson was gone. His pearly eyes were still open, but I could no longer see any power behind them. Gabby reached out and closed his eyelids before turning and looking past the three of us. Her husband was standing in the doorway; Mr. Freeman was seconds away from crying; so were my parents, but I wasn't. I was too disturbed by what Mr. Peterson had said to me and that was on top of the fact that we were all standing in a room that by all rights should not be here.

As Mr. Freeman stepped into the room, mom and dad stepped to their right, closer to the foot of the bed. I had stepped the opposite direction toward the heavily draped window to give everyone space to move.

Standing there, I noticed the late day sun had managed to find a gap between the edge of the curtain and the wall. It sliced through the room like a sword of light and perfectly lighting Mr. Peterson's lifeless body. It was just like something you might see in a movie and the thought came to me that the light was heaven finally calling home one that had managed to avoid that trip for a very long time. A chill ran up my spine and gave me Goosebumps.

I felt a pain in my hand and realized I was tightly squeezing the fist that Mr. Peterson had placed something into and it was digging into the palm of my hand. When I opened my hand I found two things, a key and my blood. I'd clutched it so tightly that I had cut the palm of my hand.

It was a black, iron key, about three inches long, thin, and very old looking. I'd seen a whole ring of keys just like it back on my ship. But the question was; what did this key unlock?

"The wooden box!" I thought.

Not wanting anyone to see what I had, and I'm not sure why either, I quickly closed my fingers around it again, but was consciously telling my hand not to squeeze it so tightly this time.

Cautiously, I scanned the room to be sure no one had been paying attention to me as I thrust my fist into the pocket of my cargo shorts.

As quietly and as slowly as I could, I slid along the wall to the door and then stepped out of the room unnoticed. I headed down the steps as swiftly but noiselessly as I possibly could.

Abruptly, as though I'd walked into a brick wall, I came to a halt four steps from the lower landing. I was eye level with the chilling stuffed owl, which had so much dust on it; it almost looked like it was covered in grey snow. It was even more scary from my present position that when looking up at it from the lower floor. For a fleeting instance I wondered about its origins and significance to Mr. Peterson.

However, that thought was gone in a flash as a more urgent question appeared.

"Why did I stop?"

Something on the wall to my left had caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. It wasn't a conscious recognition, not at first. Something deeper, more primal than my subconscious, something dark and angry had seen what was on the wall and had taken control of my body by pulling the emergency brake lever.

Standing stone still, playing `Who will blink first' with the creepy owl, that dark--angry thing was slowly climbing and clawing its way up from the blackest depths of my being until it finally was the dominant governing power within me. My mouth was closed and my nostrils were flared as I exhaled. It was like standing outside when the temperature is well below freezing. The little hairs within my nostrils felt like they had frozen and I swear I could see my breath just as if I was outside on a cold, winter's day.

My head began to turn to the left as though someone were turning a crank. My eyes went from the bird, tracked across the wall of frames until they focused on the photograph of something I knew all too well.

"The Banachelli?!" I exclaimed in an icy snarl.

Seriously, it was a photograph of my ship! And it wasn't like it looks now. It was an older picture that must have been taken more than a year ago, maybe longer than that. How can I be so sure of when it was taken? Because it looked as it had the very first time I had seen it from the outside with the top heavy structures like someone had staked progressively larger wooden boxes one on top of another with the top box crowned in a green, mold covered, wooden, shingle roof. I know it was an older picture because sense Madam-M came to the Banachelli and prepped it for the Hurricane Katrina, the ship no longer resembles a top-heavy monstrosity that had appeared to seen its best days. Then there was a picture framed below it that caused my heart to come to a stop. My hands shot out in front of me, my palms pressed hard against the wall to support me as my face drew in close. It was smaller, about the size of a post-card. I moved my face closer to it; my nose was almost touching the glass.

A growl came from deep within my throat, "Mr. Peterson?"

It sure was, and he was posing in front of the Banachelli holding an Old Persian cat whose fur looked as if it hadn't been brushed in years. I would recognize Lil' Vera's mother anywhere. But if that wasn't disturbing enough, standing on either side of Mr. Peterson, with their arms around him and smiling like two demented cartoon characters was none other than a tall, limp woman with a razor sharp nose and chin to one side and a short, bulbous nosed man who more resembled a squashed bullfrog than a man. It was none other than Nihau and Rubella Wriggle, smiling and posing for the photograph with Mr. Peterson who towered over them both. There was absolutely no way of mistaking the two of them. A sick feeling was filling my stomach.

Seeing the Banachelli on his wall had stopped my heart; seeing the Wriggles and Mr. Peterson posing in front of it had not only restarted my heart, it set it ablaze. Gone were the cold feelings; now flames shot from my nostrils and horns sprouted out of the top of my head.

Mad? Yeah, you could say that I was mad unlike I have ever been in my life. This moment I was even madder than the day I stood on the deck of the Banachelli and pulled the trigger on the gun I was aiming at Runt. Angrier than when Runt was forcing himself inside of me; even more than my Aunt Catherine had been when she caught Mort raping me and caved his face into his skull with a baseball bat. This was a black anger that made all the other moments pale in comparison.

Saliva dripped from the lip and I'm sure I looked like the beast I was feeling like just then.

I pushed off from the wall, pushed away from the pictures and took in the gallery of as a whole. There were framed photos that appeared so old that they must have been taken with one of the first cameras in history. Others looked like they hadn't adorned the wall for more than a few months, if that long. There were even a couple paintings of people and lots of clipped newspaper articles that had been carefully preserved within frames. Off to my right was a full newspaper page with bold black letters that read, "Local Boy Hero Goes Bad".

"NO! NO! It's not possible!" I howled as I clutched at my scalp above my bandages and actually pulled two fists of hair out; granted, not a lot of hair, but enough nonetheless. I was shaking all over and my head was spinning so fast that I could hardly keep my balance.

My breathing was heavy, my lungs ached, my eyes burned and I was about to attack the wall and destroy every photo, every article, but suddenly I could hear voices upstairs. I glanced from the gallery to the upper hallway, back to the frames and knew I had little time to get to the kitchen without being seen.

Still in control, the dark entity within me caused my feet to race down the steps, no longer concerned about stealth. I went purposefully, down the stairs, wove my way past the front room of books, through the heavy curtain that covered the doorway to the back of the house and into a narrow hallway made narrower with shelves of books on either side. I had to turn sideways to get through but once beyond the hallway, an open door, and beyond the door... the kitchen.

For some reason I had expected the kitchen to look like the Scullery back on the Banachelli. I mean, if a room from the ship could be upstairs, why not Fyer's Kitchen? But no, it was not what I expected at all. It looked like a kitchen should look in an old house filled with old books. It had a stove, a fridge, a sink, and a table with two chairs. But all of that was buried under books, boxes, and at least an inch of dust. You might think the sink would have been filled with dishes, but no, it was filled with books too. There was however more open floor in there which made it easier to move about but not too much more.

I nearly busted my butt on the floor when, from behind the stack of books in the sink, I heard a loud growl and when I looked, Lil' Vera came into view and she looked positively pissed. I had jumped back, lost my footing and fell on my butt with a thump. When I fell I heard the sound of ripping and knew I'd just ripped the tapes off my hospital issued diaper. It didn't matter `cause it was probably near its maximum capacity anyway. Besides, it was so thin that it had offered nearly no padding at all when I fell, so ripping served it right for being so lacking!

Staring up at the bright, flaming eyes of Lil' Vera; I hissed at her, "What's the matter with you?"

With ears pinned back, tail bristled, and back arched she howled loud and angrily. I swear it sounded like she was trying to keep me from finding whatever it was that Mr. Peterson wanted me to find.

And then she launched herself toward me, I threw my hands up to protect my face, but she didn't attack. Instead she landed between my feet with grace only a cat can pull off. On all four paws she stared me down as her tail twitched like the rattler on a rattle stake.

Given our turbulent relationship in the past, I was sure she was about to rip into me but then she sat her butt right down on the flowery linoleum floor and licked her chops.

The two of us sat there looking at each other for a moment. I'm not sure what she was thinking, but I was truly confused and trying my best to figure out if she was going to try to kill me or what.

When I think back on everything that has happened in the last two or three days, and we won't even talk about everything over the past few months, it is a wonder why I am not locked up in the loony bin in a room with padded walls. Sitting there on the floor, my butt throbbing, and my cat looking at me like I was going to be her next meal, it was as though the two halves of my brain where firing electric bolts back and forth in some sort of futuristic laser battle. My brain was fracturing and there wasn't anything I could do to stop it.

The dark entities power had momentarily waned but returned with a vengeance when I heard dad call out my name from upstairs.

"Simon?"

With an all engulfing fire I repeated Mr. Peterson's words to me, "...the thing you so urgently need, you will find in a wooden box under the galley sink..."

Moving fast I rolled onto my knees and again heard and this time also felt the diaper ripping. I could imagine what the hospital diaper might look like beneath my shorts.

Poor Lil' Vera took off in a streak of fur when I had moved so quickly.

The sink didn't have doors on its cabinet, but instead a really old, faded yellow fabric curtain that perhaps originally matched the yellow flowered linoleum but the colors of both had faded over the years. The floor looked warn and dingy, the fabric sun-bleached and stained. I yanked the curtain open and inadvertently ripped it almost completely off.

Then I saw it, a wooden box... more than a box... a chest.

Image if you will what you might expect a pirate's treasure chest to look like and now shrink that to about the size of two shoes boxes stacked on top of each other with a rounded lid. Old wood, hand hammered iron strapping and hinges and...

"A lock!" I gasped as I remembered the key.

Unexpectedly there was a horrible crashing from the front of the house like a wrecking ball was smashing through the front wall. And it didn't stop, but rolled on for the longest time almost like thunder or an erupting volcano. Intermingled was the sound of breaking glass and a shout of, "Look out!" Somehow I knew what it was; someone had knocked over a stack or maybe one of the pillars of books and started a cascade effect.

The wall between me and the living room began to reverberate and like an avalanche which first started in the narrow hallway. The shelves toppled, books fell like a cave-in. And then the books in the kitchen with me fell, slamming the wooden door and effectively blocking the door. Heck, I was nearly buried myself or at least I would have been had I not moved so quickly. As it was, one larger book got me in the right shoulder, but I had deflected a few others with cat-like skills that would have made Lil' Vera envious.

The roar of falling books died down as the hall and room beyond also went quiet for a second or two. Then loud cursing was heard from one of the men, which was then followed by my mother screaming my name.

"SIMON! SIMON!"

She must have feared I was buried under the books there in the living room. But with my dark entity in charge, it didn't even occur to me to let her know I was safe.

 

Another loud boom beyond the blocked door and a another loud cursing that sounded more like Mr. Freeman but could have been my doctor.

"Just wait, will you! You are going to break a leg or cripple yourself!" I heard my father shout and wondered if he was shouting at mom or one of the others.

I knew I had little time so I quickly grabbed the handles on either side of the chest to lift it out, but it wouldn't budge. I couldn't understand why; it wasn't nearly large enough to weigh that much...

"UNLESS!" I gasped at the thought that it might be filled with gold.

I tried again and I mean I really tugged on that chest for all I was worth, but I might as well have been trying to lift a locomotive for all the effect I was having on it. I even tried to brace my feet on either side of the sink cabinet while attempting to drag it out, but that was useless as well. It just didn't want to budge.

No time to figure out why it wouldn't move I fumbled with the key, found the keyhole within the lock and inserted the blood covered key. It took three full turns of the key before I heard the lock click and the top popped open as though spring loaded.

What I saw first didn't really surprise me; it was a book. See what I mean? No surprise there! Granted it wasn't just a book; it appeared to be extremely old; older than any book I'd thus far seen in the house and it appeared to be well used with frayed leather edges and a very worn spine. When I lifted the book out with my bloody hand, my first thought was to marvel at how thick it was.

"Must be over 1000 pages." I mumbled.

I then saw that the title of the book had been embossed into the leather cover and looked to once have had silver lettering pressed into the leather, but the silver had long since worn away, leaving only faint traces of its once regal glory.

 

Now I don't claim to speak or understand any language other than English, and it can be argued that I only scarcely grasp the fundamentals of English, but I spent enough time on the Banachelli to recognize the name of my ship. I knew instantly I was holding the captains log from my ship and if my hunch was correct, it could very possibly be from the first launching of the Banachelli. I mean back when it was originally launched as a Prison Ship.

I was intrigued enough to want to open the book, but that is when I could hear Mr. Peterson as if he were beside me, whispering into my ear.

"That is not what you so urgently need! Look to the wooden box."

I lowered the book and my eyes fell once again on the open chest of brown bottles and I saw what had been under the book.

Let me tell you, if I was given the rest of my life to guess the contents of that chest, I could never have possibly imagined this one. Then again, after what I saw on the wall of the staircase and taking into account my suspicions about Mr. Peterson's true age, maybe I could have guessed.

Time came to a halt and all sound ceased save for the deafening sound of my heart hammering against my ribcage. With just a glance I knew what I was looking at. There had to be at least three or four dozen small brown bottles. At the sight of the bottles I had begun to weep. My chest heaved, my head pounded and sweat gushed from every pore on my body. Why? Because I knew all too well what was in those bottles. It was the dreaded elixir that Madam-M had come up with.

My mind began to spin as I thought about everything I've learned this evening and everything I suspected about Mr. Peterson. His age, the photos, the Captains log book from the Banachelli, the books on living forever which I'd seen on my first visit here and now... oh god... now the elixir. Had Madam-M really come up with it after all? Maybe she just perfected what Mr. Peterson already had.

I opened the book and though it was written in very fancy looking hand script, I was able to read it. Sure enough, my suspicions of the books origins were correct. I then flipped through the book. It spans years and years and years. When I got to the last few pages, though the script seems to have been written by a shaking hand, it was clearly the same hand that had started writing on the first page.

"I-I can't believe it!" I said in a whispered gasp, "Mr. Peterson was really Captain Mecums. He did it... well he nearly did it; he had found a way to live forever!"

I then began to think, "He must have spent his mortal years searching and only stumbled on the answer later in life. Otherwise he wouldn't have looked so old nor so tall...would he?"

The weeks I spend at The Ranch; the countless hours spent praying, reading and memorizing scriptures; the looming threat of imprisonment or more likely, death ... none of that came to mind as some outside force took control of my bleeding hand. I watched as it extended out in front of me toward the box. A drop of blood dripped from my palm and hung suspended in time and air as though the law of gravity had suddenly been abolished. I'd been so focused on the drop of blood I hadn't seem my hand retrieve a bottle from the chest. I held it at arm's length and eye level as I read the label on the front of the bottle.

_________________________

|                        |

|   Ambrosia for Boys    |

|                        |

|  Liquid Multi-Vitamin  |

|________________________|

 

"Multi-Vitamin my ass!" I thought but then I found myself clutching the bottle as though I was hugging a long lost friend to my bare, sweaty chest.

Sweat was spouting from my pores as though a fire hose had been shoved up my butt and turned on full blast. My eyes stung from sweat flowing into them, but I didn't rub at them as the book slipped from the grip of my other hand. Before I knew it the bottle was open and rising toward my mouth.

As the glass touched my bottom lip something happened. The dark entity had flinched and withdrew but only a little. It was enough though to let me see what I was about to do. With the bottle perched to pour the liquid into my mouth I had frozen as though some great unseen force was working in my favor, but only to the point of a stalemate. The bottle, poised, rested against my lips, as I was unable to continue nor unable to withdraw it.

I could hear voices within my head shouting, "Drink it!" and other's "Throw it away!"

And suddenly something began to happen inside of me. It was as though someone had struck a match. It was a small light within the immense darkness but it grew exponentially until it was so bright that I felt like I was attempting to contain the power of a star going supernova within me. I wanted to scream but didn't dare open my mouth. I resisted the urge until I could no longer contain it. My lips parted and a sound came out that didn't sound earthly. It was loud and filled with fear.

"SIMON!"

I could hear dad just on the other side of the kitchen door now. "Simon, are you alright in there?"

"How'd he get passed all those fallen books?" I thought, "Had they been digging their way toward me this whole time?"

The sound continued to eject from my mouth and my body convulsed from the shockwave. My hand, holding the bottle was trembling and as if I knew the liquid was about to pore into my mouth, my lips slammed shut.

Pounding and the sound of crashing brought me back.

"SIMON?" Mom shrieked.

And Mr. Freeman shouting, "I can't get it open. It must be blocked!"

And then there was silence. The pounding stopped, the yells stopped and in that instant I feared I was alone and that I was going to lose this battle. I wanted to cry out that I was there, but feared if I opened my mouth again; the liquid would spill in for sure this time.

With a smash, splinters of wood and glass flew in all directions and the back door to the house burst open and dad fell into the room, landing on one knee and one hand. He had literally thrown himself through the door.

His eyes locked on mine. I could see he was in pain from the impact to the door and though his eyes spoke urgency and extreme emotions his voice was soft and controlled.

"Simon, listen to me son."

I tried to tell him with my eyes that I needed him to take the bottle from me, but he didn't move.

"Simon... Simon... Son... Look at me. That's it, look at me. Now think about what you are about to do."

I glanced down at the bottle. Through the tears and the sweat it was unfocused and in a state of flux but still I could see that it was tipped up and if I opened my mouth even a miniscule slit, the contents of the bottle would flow in.

"Do you really want to lose everything you have gained?"

Every muscle in my body was aching and that small brown bottle felt as though it weighed twenty pounds and yet I couldn't let it go.

"Please Simon, just set the bottles on the floor. Please! Please son! I don't want to see you go and throw everything away. You are strong!"

"Bottles?" I thought.

I glanced further down and saw the hand that had been holding the book was now holding four more of the small brown bottles.

He then said something that changed everything. His face contorted as though someone had just thrust a dagger into his heart. I witnessed my father, the strong man I have always admired for that strength, fall apart. He dropped to his hip and pushed himself up to a sort of side kneeling position as he looked up toward the ceiling and wept terribly as he cried out.

"Please God! Can you hear me? Can you see him? Please! God! Please! He's so tired and he's scared. Let him know that you are here right now."

His chin dropped to his chest, I could then see the white shirt he had been wearing was now crimson red. As he had broken through the back door a large piece of the wood had ripped through the flesh of his left shoulder. He was cradling that arm to his abdomen.

And then softly he sobbed, "Please, I can't lose him again."

His head was down, his body shaking with his sobs.

I heard a clanking that made me look, the four bottles I'd been clutching were now scattered on the floor before me but yet the open bottle still remained perched at my lips!

That super nova inside of me exploded again with a single word, "NO!"

And I watched the bottle fly and tumble up over the sink spilling its contents. It collided with the edge of the sink and shattered into a brilliant explosion of tin brown diamonds that rained down to the floor.

"NO!" shouted again and I picked up the Captains log and brought it down on the four bottles, smashing them to bits.

"NOOOO!" I screamed even louder as I began pulling bottle after bottle from the box and throwing them to the floor one after another with alternating hands.

I had momentarily forgotten about my father, his wounded shoulder, and everything else.

With each bottle I screamed louder, and louder, and louder, as I sent them to their doom.

When I reached into the box once more my fingers found the very last bottle. As though someone had put me on slow motion I withdrew the bottle and held it with both hands as though I were trying to strangle a very thin necked man. I got to my feet and was facing the almost completely dark window over the sink.

"Never, NEVER, N-E-V-E-R A-G-A-I-N!" I shouted at it and then I double slam dunked it to the floor.

It was only then that the energy I had from the super nova burned off and as I felt my legs give out I turned toward my father and said one last word, "Daddy?" before I collapsed into blackness.

________________

 

I came back around lying on the grass looking up at the night sky. A single, dim star was visible so far and it seemed to be directly above me. Dr. O'Neil was leaning over me and I had one of those oxygen masks on my face. I could feel someone holding my left hand very tightly and when I looked it was my mother; beyond her sitting on the back stoop, illuminated by the glow of the single light bulb above the back door, I could see my dad looking on while Gabby placed a bandage over dad's shoulder. His bloody shirt was gone.

"There he is!" Dr. O'Neil said with an oddly placed smile.

Dad stood up, took two steps and then knelt behind mom, holding her as tightly as she was holding my hand.

I said something, but they couldn't understand me due to the oxygen mask. Dr. O'Neil reached over and pulled the mask off.

 

Whimpering I asked, "Can I please go home?"

They both exhaled as though they had been holding their breath the entire time I had been out of it and mom, blubbering, nodded her hand, "Sure you can baby!"

Dr. O'Neil wasn't too keen on that idea. He insisted that we go to his office which we did. Mr. Freeman helped me get to Dr. O'Neil's car. I got in the back seat while mom and dad got in on either side of me. Mr. Freeman and Gabby stayed at the house to deal with Mr. Peterson and the house.

I didn't last long. We were not even off the street when I fell asleep. The next time I woke up mom as shaking my leg and telling me we were at Dr. O'Neil's office.

Dad was already out of the car and talking on his cell phone while his injured arm hung limp from his side.

Clinging to mom like a frightened toddler we walked into the office right behind Doctor O'Neil. And after less than an hour dad and I were cleaned up (mom had changed my diaper), patched up and ready to leave. On the way back out the door guess who was pulling into the parking lot.

"OH CRAP! It's Mr. Davis." I said a little too loudly.

But then right behind him our car pulled in. I didn't recognize the driver and that is because it was Mr. Davis wife. That is who Dad was talking too on the phone when I had been woken up in the car.

Mr. Davis climbed out of his car and I had to look twice. He didn't look like him. He was wearing a white tank top and blue jean shorts and flip-flops. When a lady got out of our car I was genuinely confused.

Mr. Davis walked up to me looking his same grumpy self but when we were standing face to belly he stuck out his hand for me to shake. Hesitantly I laid my right hand in his and it disappeared as he closed his hand around mine and shook it.

"Your dad here told me what happened and what you did." He then smiled toothily, "I'm very proud of you!"

It was a good thing he was holding my hand cause if he hadn't been I probably would have fallen over with shock.

The lady who had been driving our car walked up to us right then and Mr. Davis finally cleared up my confusion.

Releasing my hand and wrapping it around the back of the ladies back he said, "This is my lovely wife Wanda."

"OOOH!" I exclaimed and shook her hand.

She was shorter than my mom, but very thin and had bleached blonde hair with the nicest smile. I don't mean this in a bad way, but she looked too good to be with someone like Mr. Davis.

Mr. Davis kept making a big deal out of what I had done with those bottles. He kept praising me, patting my back and just saying all kinds of good things about me. I on the other hand was feeling exactly the opposite. I didn't feel victorious, or proud. I had been seconds away from swallowing that evil, vial stuff and the truth of it is... I wish I had. I wished I hadn't smashed all those bottles, I wish I had one... just one!

________________

 

 

Exhaustion--Complete and utter Exhaustion and yet I lay on my side in the upper bunk in my room staring into the darkness. I was in the upper bunk `cause dad was sleeping in the lower bunk. After busting my head and nearly having a relapse just a few hours ago, it was agreed upon that I should not be left alone.

I lay quiet for a couple hours waiting for sleep to take me but I was wide awake. My body was alternating between sweating like I was being cooked on dad's grill or freezing like mom had shoved my body into the big freezer in the garage.

"Why can't I sleep?" I moaned into the darkness.

Dad grunted, snored, and rolled over causing the entire bunk bed to rock. I feared the bed might collapse and had gripped either side of the mattress beneath me until the squeaking and rocking stopped.

After that I gave up on sleep and climbed down from the upper bunk. I was amazed when dad didn't stir or make a sound. He was there to make sure I didn't do something stupid and here I was descending the ladder and he was sawing logs. I actually had some difficulty managing the ladder due to my noodle legs and my sweaty, trembling hands. I have no idea why I didn't just fall on my overly diapered butt.

Yes I was over diapered. Mom had pinned me into one of the thickest, cloth diapers she has ever put me into. She had said she figured after the last two days, I would probably sleep straight through the next two weeks.

I went over to my desk, found the stack of papers I had left for myself. They were the papers I'd brought home from the Juvenile Detention Center. I then hit the power button on the computer and it whirled to life. I kept glancing over to dad to see if he would wake up but he didn't. I was certain when the screen lit up he would wake, but he didn't. However, by the glow of the monitor I did see two yellow eyes glowing near where dad's feet were. It took a moment to realize it was just Lil' Vera. She was sitting in traditional cat pose watching me move about. She stayed like that until I settled down in the desk chair and began typing up all of my hand written papers as well as adding to them, updating my journal and reading emails of which there were dozens.

However, before I did any of that I started by sending out one quick email to Fyer.

The email's subject line read: "Leaving soon".

The Body then went on to read:

Fyer,

It is finally safe for me to escape this place and make my way back to the ship. Have everything ready for my return. We shall set sail the instant I am back aboard.

Love always,
Your Captain!

 

Well actually I didn't email Fyer, but a defunct email account that I knew Fyer never uses anymore. My reason for emailing him was to test something. I wanted to see if Tom had really de-bugged my computer. I figured, if he was still monitoring my computer activity, the instant I clicked the send button Tom would bust down the doors of our house to stop me.

I sat there in my desk chair, facing the door to my bedroom and waited and waited. After about twenty minutes or more I decided that maybe Tom had been telling the truth and that he really did take the bug out of my computer after all.

Once I was sure Tom wasn't coming I got to work.