Chapter 3: Triple-P

Daniel Berusov dropped on his bed with a groan. The games played here at Triple-P – Peter Parker Preparatory – were alien to him. Who the hell would play Lacrosse? Soccer was more to his liking, but being tall and slender he was not ideally built for that sport. Basketball was not bad, but the way Danny had learned the game — in a neighborhood court ruled by the bros — was not like Mr. Jeremies, the gym teacher, thought it should be played.

The only good thing was that once he’d become a junior, he would be allowed to join the school’s boxing team. For the last two years, Danny had earned some money sweeping the floors at the Silver Gym. The owner, Artie Simmons, paid him small money, but he also let Danny work out and even gave him free boxing lessons. According to Artie, Danny had a nice jab and good foot work, but no punch worth a shit.

For the moment, he was alone in his room and he leaned back to enjoy the solitude. His roommate, Chester Armbruster, would be late, having picked up another detention. Chester was a mess, a rich kid without a clue and interested only in girls — although by necessity of the virtual variety. He had a huge collection of porn which he played on his laptop when he thought Danny was asleep. That collection that was updated whenever he had internet access during home visits, and Danny knew that he kept that stuff on a huge, one-terabyte USB hard-drive.

Danny had a laptop too, a fancy model that was way beyond his needs. Back when he’d lived with Irina, he’d had a tired old tower computer from the pawn shop, but he’d had little real need for it. Now he was expected to retrieve all sorts of information from the internet to prepare for classes. He also had to submit reports and other assignments to the school’s servers. Triple-P strove for paper-less teaching.

This school was something else entirely. Back at West Philly High, Danny had been coasting along at the top of the class without so much as a hint of competition. Here, the teachers were really after him, giving him extra assignments when he finished his regular load and pretty much filling his day with school work. Now, after the first six weeks, the culture shock was wearing off and Danny began to appreciate the chances he was afforded.

At first, he did not know why he’d been sent to Triple-P. The place was expensive, that much he knew, and nobody had told him who was paying for all this. No fewer than three lawyers had picked him up after school on that fateful day. They told him that a wealthy entrepreneur had offered a scholarship for Danny and over the next days he was dragged from one clothing store to the next. In between, he spent some time with a dentist to get his teeth checked and cleaned. He was fitted with braces, but they were expensive and barely visible. He was also given a complete physical and all his vaccinations were brought up-to-date. He spent an afternoon with a head shrink looking at doodles and filling out various multiple choice questionnaires. The shrink also performed a half-hour-long quick-fire Q&A before telling him that he was a very smart young man.

In between, he’d met Irina, his mom. She was looking tired and worried. She gave him a run-down of what had happened at the S&M video shoot and the attempt of the two goons to break into their apartment. She was facing legal troubles over the gun. She also told him that she’d called in some very old markers from some dude who would bankroll Danny’s stay at Triple-P.

Once they had checked him completely, clothed him and given him a two-hour lecture on the dos and don’ts for an adolescent male, they sat his butt into the rear of a big-ass Lincoln limousine and sent him out into the boonies, to Triple-P. He was given three new cell phone numbers and told to call any of them should any problems appear. When he asked who his mysterious benefactor was, the lawyers lost their capacity for colloquial English and gave him a load of lawyer speak with lots of whatsoevers, pendings, and conditions strewn in. What they did not tell him was the name.

It was not necessary. Within two weeks, the rumor mill at Triple-P knew him as the illegitimate son of Tyler M. Westbrook, the retail tycoon. Since then, Danny had researched his supposed father in detail. Tyler Westbrook was sixty-one and he had built a large business empire from scratch. Westbrook Corp. was the entity behind several high end fashion chains, a mail order house and a string of sporting goods stores. The original Westbrook’s shops were also still in operation offering mostly useless but expensive gadgets for “the distinguishing gentleman”. Forbes pegged Tyler’s net worth at $780,000,000.

His first wife, Megan, died of thyroid cancer in 1987. A son from that marriage died in a car crash at only seventeen years. Westbrook was devastated, and for years he was a recluse, barely venturing into society.

This changed when he met his second wife. He married Marsha Wiesnewski in 1991 and they had a child, a daughter named Ashley. Ashley had to be a sophomore like Danny, but the internet knew almost nothing about her. There was more to know about Marsha. She was a former fashion model who now owned and operated her own chain of sales outlets.

Danny suspected that sending him off to Triple-P was done mostly to keep Wifey Nº2 in the dark about his existence. Danny was curious where he would spend the summer break. He suspected to be sent to a summer camp somewhere. He had already sent a text message to the head lawyer asking to be with Mr. Simmons at the Silver Gym over the summer, but he would not be so lucky.

With a sigh, he picked himself up from the bed. Time to focus. He had an assignment due the day after and he had better get it done before Chester showed up.

Danny was sitting alone at the table during lunch break. He was used to sitting alone and it did not bother him. He was the FNG, the “fucking new guy”, and as such he was not part of the various cliques. He got along okay with most of the other students, which was enough for him.

There were exceptions to that rule. Helen Gunderson was one of those exceptions. She was the vying for the Queen Bee position at Triple-P and she did her best to make life difficult for Danny. To be honest, Danny did not like her either. She was a spoiled princess of a girl who had been sent to Triple-P after she’d been picked up by the police for underage drinking. Now she tried to lord it over the peons. Danny had pissed her off when he refused to do her math assignment. Asked nicely he would have helped her, but her imperious tone ticked him off and he told her to pound sand.

Speaking of the devil, she was just entering the cafeteria with her usual courtiers. Danny had to admit that she looked hot. Not that she had big boobs. In that department there was still some room to grow, but she had a cute face under natural blonde hair and her trim body was displayed to its best advantage in the tight clothes she was wearing.

Her blue eyes swept over the cafeteria and her cute face showed her displeasure when she regarded Danny. He gave her an ironic salute and a grin, causing her face to cloud even further. She turned to one of her friends – Tom Burton – and spoke to him. Tom gave Danny the evil eye and swaggered over to his table.

“Hey, shithead!”

Danny shook his head. What now? He shrugged.

“What do you want, Tom?”

“I hear you’ve been mouthy to my friend Helen.”

Danny shrugged again. “I told her to do her assignments herself. I’m not one of her lap dogs.”

“Pretty rude for a bastard,” Tom challenged. “Maybe somebody should teach you some manners?”

Danny actually grinned. “Jeez, Tom, don’t be stupid. You’re not in her league. Once you’ve served your purpose, she’ll ignore you again.”

“Why don’t you mind your own fuckin’ business, Ivan?”

“I’m trying, but there’s this moron who keeps talking to me.”

“Oh yeah? Get up!”

“Why?”

“So I can teach you manners!”

“Can’t you just shove off, man? This’ll only get you hurt.”

“Oh, let me guess — you know Karate!” Tom crowed and the answering snickers made Danny aware of a small crowd that was surrounding them.

“Nope, no Karate. Still, give it a rest, okay? Look, I’ll even say please. Please leave me the fuck alone. Okay?”

“You fuckin’ bastard!” Tom snarled and hurled himself at Danny.

He did not get far. Danny’s table slammed into his thigh stopping him briefly and now Danny was on his feet.

“Just leave me alone, Tom,” he warned one more time, but Tom was angry now. He advanced on Danny who took up a defensive stance.

Tom’s first haymaker was an easy one to dodge and Danny went in close, hammering Tom’s short ribs. He retreated immediately thereby avoiding another roundhouse swing. The crowd around them got excited. This was looking like some real fight.

“We can still stop this, Tom,” Danny warned.

“You prick!” Tom snarled and attacked again. This time Danny shuffled to the left and clipped the charging Tom on his ear. That had to hurt!

Tom just lowered his head and charged again with outstretched arms trying to tackle Danny. There was just no way out of this mess. Danny barely avoided Tom’s arms by shuffling back and to the right. When Tom turned, Danny’s left jab hit him square on the nose. This ended it. Tom went down bleeding profusely from his broken nose and Danny stepped back. He saw Helen in the crowd, a look of incredulity on her face.

“Happy now?” he asked her with all the disdain he could pack into those two words. “You’re one sick bitch! You know that?”

By now, five teachers came running, alerted by some of the students and they stared down at the bleeding Tom Burton. Mr. Edwards, the Spanish teacher, looked around.

“Who did that?”

Shrugging, Danny stepped forward. “I did. He kept going at me. I told him to leave me alone, but he kept coming.”

“And you are?”

“Daniel Berusov, sir. I’m a new student.”

Edwards looked around. “Anybody care to come forward as a witness?”

George Turner, a senior, stepped forward. “It’s like Danny said. Tom was spoiling for a fight, and Danny tried to calm him. It was no use. Danny hit him only twice. He must be some sort of boxer.”

Edwards looked at Danny who nodded. “I spent a lot of time at the Silver Gym in West Philly. Mr. Simpson, the owner, looked after me in the afternoons.”

“And why do you think Mr. Burton attacked you?”

Danny shrugged. “He entered the cafeteria with Helen. She whispered something to him and next thing he comes and calls me a shithead.”

“Any idea why Miss Gunderson would send out her storm trooper?” Edwards queried.

“I did not do her math assignment for her.”

“Interesting. Miss Gunderson, any thoughts or comments from your side?”

“I ... I only told Tom that I didn’t like Danny, that he’d been rude to me. He said he’d teach him manners. That’s all,” Helen protested.

Edwards shook his head. “Okay. Berusov, Turner, Gunderson! Come along with me. Burton, go to the nurse’s office. Everybody else! Go back to lunch. Where the hell is Gonagle?”

Gonagle was the teacher who had lunch duty. Nobody knew. Gonagle was a slacker. Edwards shrugged and motioned for the three students to follow him to the principal’s office.

Danny had only seen Principal Marlowe once and he had pegged him as a phony. Big smile but cold eyes. He looked up from an oversized desk.

“Mr. Edwards, is there a problem?”

Edwards quickly reeled off the facts of the matter, already stating that Danny had likely acted in self-defense. Marlowe fixed his gaze on George Turner.

“You witnessed this?”

“Yes, sir,” Turner answered briskly.

“So Burton was the aggressor?”

“Yes, sir. Danny tried to talk him out of it, but he was spoiling for a fight.”

“I see. Mr. Berusov, we do not condone fighting.”

“Yes, sir,” Danny answered, taking a leaf from George Turner’s book.

“You’re new here, so I’m going to let it go for now. Don’t let us catch you brawling again though. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Marlowe turned to Helen.

“Let this be a lesson for you, Miss Gunderson. Nothing good can come out of violence. To make this clear to both of you, you and Mr. Berusov will share cleaning duty in the cafeteria for two weeks. Once Mr. Burton is up to it again, he will take over for another two weeks. Mr. Gonagle will supervise you.”