and I’m not going to do it! It’s not even fear, because I would know what that felt like.
As if he’d gotten some sudden, quiet, encouragement, Paul raised his voice and puffed out his chest proudly . “I want to be here. I want to do better. Don’t you guys?”
“You don’t get it. I was doing just fine.” Malachi insisted. “I was just walking back home from school.”
“They arrested you for going home?”
“Okay, so I was skipping.”
Paul smiled a knowing smile.
“That still doesn’t mean they had the right. I just didn’t do school well. I just ‘couldn’t keep my mouth shut.” Malachi finished the sentence in a high pitched voiced. Oliver and Paul laughed.
“Is that what your mother sounds like?” Oliver asked.
“Yeah, doesn’t yours? Always telling me what I’m doing wrong.”
“No.” Oliver thought back to his mother, quiet, frazzled, with a pencil tied in her hair. Her eyes were never much of a giveaway about how she felt. “My mother never says much at all. She certainly didn’t tell me I was coming here.”
“See, that’s what I’m saying ! Since when was it legal to just ship your kid off somewhere?” Oliver shrugged, the familiar sadness returning as the officer’s words returned to haunt him.
“I wonder if my mother is better off without me.” He thought aloud. Oliver’s words hung in the air, as all three boys contemplated this, unwilling, and unable to break the silence. Some minutes later, enough time for contemplation, Paul piped up about food, and he in Malachi were soon engaged in a lively discussion about the delicacies of the dining hall.
But for Oliver, the small innocent thought, just one seed, had taken root. He had wondered if his mother would be better off without him as if it were a question at all. There was no doubt in his mind that his mother would be better off with a son who could turn dreams into nightmares, with just a touch of a finger.
“What did you do anyway?” Malachi broke away from what was surely a riveting conversation about cafeteria food.
“I’m telling you about my life and I have no idea what you’re in for.” Paul’s eyes darted from Oliver to Malachi and he grabbed at his shirt collar.
“ I mean, it’s not like you killed anybody right?” Paul shot Oliver a knowing look, which only intensified the feeling that Oliver was a deer caught in the headlights of a particularly aggressive driver.
To be fair, Oliver knew the question would come eventually, but he hadn’t thought about that day in several days. It had almost been a luxury of sorts, all the new things that were going wrong. The handcuffs, Matron Charlie, and a new school. In so readily accepting everything that had happened, Oliver had allowed himself to forget the reason he was here in the first place. The burning secret that followed him everywhere he went, even in his dreams. He could get away from his father, he thought darkly, but he could never get away from himself.
Malachi stared expectantly at him, while Paul bit his bottom lip, evidently anticipating some kind of throw down.
“I was getting into trouble at school, and at home. I guess my mom thought it was best for me to be here.” The words sounded hollow, even to Oliver’s own ears. Malachi’s face fell, and Paul settled back onto his spot at the window sill, looking considerably less anxious.
“Sorry, it’s not really a great story.” That much was true, Oliver thought bitterly.
Malachi pursed his lips. “You know, my mother always said I would end up in here. That I talked too much for my own good. Always had to be right, and that would lead me wrong.” Malachi made exaggerated air quotes. “But I told her that it was more than that. It wasn’t that simple. I can’t just stop talking.”
Paul laughed, shortly. “My mother has a solution for that. They grow on trees. Man, I miss her. She would love that I was here. Learning how to be a 'disciplined young man'. I can't wait to go
As if he’d gotten some sudden, quiet, encouragement, Paul raised his voice and puffed out his chest proudly . “I want to be here. I want to do better. Don’t you guys?”
“You don’t get it. I was doing just fine.” Malachi insisted. “I was just walking back home from school.”
“They arrested you for going home?”
“Okay, so I was skipping.”
Paul smiled a knowing smile.
“That still doesn’t mean they had the right. I just didn’t do school well. I just ‘couldn’t keep my mouth shut.” Malachi finished the sentence in a high pitched voiced. Oliver and Paul laughed.
“Is that what your mother sounds like?” Oliver asked.
“Yeah, doesn’t yours? Always telling me what I’m doing wrong.”
“No.” Oliver thought back to his mother, quiet, frazzled, with a pencil tied in her hair. Her eyes were never much of a giveaway about how she felt. “My mother never says much at all. She certainly didn’t tell me I was coming here.”
“See, that’s what I’m saying ! Since when was it legal to just ship your kid off somewhere?” Oliver shrugged, the familiar sadness returning as the officer’s words returned to haunt him.
“I wonder if my mother is better off without me.” He thought aloud. Oliver’s words hung in the air, as all three boys contemplated this, unwilling, and unable to break the silence. Some minutes later, enough time for contemplation, Paul piped up about food, and he in Malachi were soon engaged in a lively discussion about the delicacies of the dining hall.
But for Oliver, the small innocent thought, just one seed, had taken root. He had wondered if his mother would be better off without him as if it were a question at all. There was no doubt in his mind that his mother would be better off with a son who could turn dreams into nightmares, with just a touch of a finger.
“What did you do anyway?” Malachi broke away from what was surely a riveting conversation about cafeteria food.
“I’m telling you about my life and I have no idea what you’re in for.” Paul’s eyes darted from Oliver to Malachi and he grabbed at his shirt collar.
“ I mean, it’s not like you killed anybody right?” Paul shot Oliver a knowing look, which only intensified the feeling that Oliver was a deer caught in the headlights of a particularly aggressive driver.
To be fair, Oliver knew the question would come eventually, but he hadn’t thought about that day in several days. It had almost been a luxury of sorts, all the new things that were going wrong. The handcuffs, Matron Charlie, and a new school. In so readily accepting everything that had happened, Oliver had allowed himself to forget the reason he was here in the first place. The burning secret that followed him everywhere he went, even in his dreams. He could get away from his father, he thought darkly, but he could never get away from himself.
Malachi stared expectantly at him, while Paul bit his bottom lip, evidently anticipating some kind of throw down.
“I was getting into trouble at school, and at home. I guess my mom thought it was best for me to be here.” The words sounded hollow, even to Oliver’s own ears. Malachi’s face fell, and Paul settled back onto his spot at the window sill, looking considerably less anxious.
“Sorry, it’s not really a great story.” That much was true, Oliver thought bitterly.
Malachi pursed his lips. “You know, my mother always said I would end up in here. That I talked too much for my own good. Always had to be right, and that would lead me wrong.” Malachi made exaggerated air quotes. “But I told her that it was more than that. It wasn’t that simple. I can’t just stop talking.”
Paul laughed, shortly. “My mother has a solution for that. They grow on trees. Man, I miss her. She would love that I was here. Learning how to be a 'disciplined young man'. I can't wait to go
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