Chapter 26

Tuesday, April 9, 2002

I woke up at my desk, around two thirty in the morning. The house was dark and quiet and I went downstairs and checked the kitchen for flaming dust bunnies, of which none were in evidence. Being there I got a drink of water from the fridge, sipped it for a minute while I contemplated the quiet and the dark.

I went back to my room, climbed into bed and pretended to sleep. I wanted a dream, any kind of a dream. What I got was very short periods of sleep; I kept waking up. In fact, after a bit, it was like a metronome with a tick every twenty minutes.

About a quarter of five I gave it up. Sure, I could plead sickness and probably get a day off from school. But for one of the really rare times in my life, I wasn't about to miss the day. First, I had responsibilities. I was a chauffeur. Then I was supposed to go meet Marcus Stewart-Jones and be oriented to what was on the street.

I shied away from what I was afraid was the real reason I felt so off: that the thought of getting expelled, bogus reasons or not was stressing me out more than all of Jenny's, Mary's or my own problems before this had. Sam and his gun had been extremely stressful, but it was over quickly. The accident with the car had been stressful too, and while it wasn't over as quickly, I'd gotten up afterwards and carried on.

What would they say if I didn't show up? Honestly, I was fairly sure the principal and the vice principal wouldn't say anything. Instead, they would nod their heads sagely and think of my absence as vindication of their take on my actions.

I went ahead and got my shower before anyone else's alarm clock went off, I was dressed and in the kitchen long before any one else.

I rummaged around in the pantry, found what I was looking for. Two boxes of chocolate cupcake mix. Mom liked to make things from scratch, but cakes and cupcakes were too much of a pain. Lately, in fact, such things had all but vanished from our diet; the 'use by' date on the box was April 1st, 2002.

I made the double batch, putting in the first tray just as Mom came in. She sniffed the air after a few minutes and came and gave me a hug. "Lately I've sworn off chocolate. It's not my ribs every calorie seems to be sticking to these days. Probably unfair to the rest of you. Thanks, Tom."

I kissed her, and in a minute we were holding and hugging each other. It was nice to feel the press of her breasts against my chest, and I responded by pressing my erection between her legs. After a few seconds she sighed and pulled away. "At your age you can just drop your plans and go spend the day in bed."

I shook my head. "I have to go to school today. I don't want them to think I'm afraid."

She hugged me tightly, but this time it was motherly and not sexual. "God, Tom. You're almost grown up!"

"Almost," I agreed. I copped a feel through her blouse. "I still have hormones, though."

"You do, you definitely do. And you're going over to Mary's tonight?"

"Yes," I told her. "Which reminds me, I need to get my things together before school. I'll pick them up when I drop off JR and Jenny, but I'm going to have to hustle to get downtown by five."

Actually, Central and Baseline was well south of downtown and I was going to have emulate a rocket ship to get there on time. Of course, I was ten thousand times more wary and cautious than I'd been this time last week.

"And what exactly is this errand of yours?"

I met her eyes. I'd not wanted to have to explain it, because I wasn't entirely sure I could. "I asked the police if I could ride along; watch them do their job," I explained to her. "They said no. I asked the fire department. They said no. Eleanor gave me the name of someone who goes out at night on the street, to help kids in trouble. I'm going to meet with him. I'm hoping to be able to spend Friday evening doing that."

She was silent, looking at me steadily. I popped the first batch of cupcakes out, then slid in the second tray, and worked on getting the first tray refilled.

"Just be careful, Tom," she finally told me.

"Every day, in every way that I can," I assured her. "It's just that... well, I want to do something for people. I don't know what, I don't know how. Probably it won't work out, but I want to have at least looked first."

She nodded. "Well, French toast this morning." She fetched eggs and stuff. Mom's French toast is really nice; and there's absolutely nothing wrong with maple syrup, either.

JR was feeling better, and I got a kiss from her and another from Jenny for the cupcakes for lunch. I went to school feeling particularly good.

Mr. Miller seemed to be surprised to see me, but didn't say anything. There were no notes from on high, nothing was said. I spent the morning in my usual classes, doing the same thing I usually did in school. There were times in the last few weeks, even before I met Marsha Richardson that I seriously questioned the utility of school.

Uncle Craig had gotten my back up by wanting to take over home schooling. What would have happened if the proposal had come from Mom, with notice that Uncle Craig would add some insight into business and finance? I grinned to myself. Yep, Uncle Craig had blundered there.

Lunch was more interesting than what lunch usually was, although I had to admit that the last few weeks had provided some interesting lunches. I was sitting, holding hands with Elizabeth, when Sue Ellen came up with a girl I didn't recognize.

Actually, I didn't recognize her face, but how many girls at school had a bandaged nose, her arm in a sling, and fading bruises on her face?

"Tom," Sue Ellen said as she got to the table. I stood up and held out my hand to the girl. "Dawn Driscoll. Dawn, Tom Ferguson."

It was her left arm that had been wracked up; so we did a proper handshake.

"Thanks, Tom," she told me.

I shook my head. "It wasn't the least bit difficult, didn't require any thought at all."

What had Janey said, quoting Dawn? That she was upset that the cheerleaders had offered themselves, when, if anyone should do that, it should be her.

She had let my hand go, and now stood regarding me. I regarded her back.

"That's really is all you want, isn't it?" Dawn's voice was soft.

"That's all," I told her. "Nothing else. I'd have done it for anyone."

"Janey told me about what you told her, what you did when the other cheerleaders made their offer."

I shrugged.

"I don't have a very good opinion of guys, you understand?"

"I can understand," I told her. "A lot of that going around these days. Not all of us are bastards, though. Maybe not all that many of us, but a few rotten apples sure leave a bad taste, afterwards."

She nodded gravely. "I did what I hear another girl did. I left home, moved in with a friend and her father. My parents were told by Children Services that if they continued to work on getting Keith out on bail, they'd revoke their parental rights. Tomorrow he comes out." She shook her head. "They mortgaged our house to do it. I left last week; what was the point?"

"I'm sorry," I told her.

"You know what my friend's father told me?"

I shook my head.

"He wanted to know why someone from the family, someone from school, someone, anyone at all, hadn't stepped on Keith like a bug, a long time ago."

I sniffed. "The thought occurred to me, too."

"It's like I told him, Tom. It gets to be a habit. You lie to yourself, you lie to others; all to pretend it's not the problem it is. Cover it up, hoping not to make it worse. Hoping not to set him off. And now... I'm pretty much an orphan. Not as much of an orphan as Jennifer Reese, but way too close for comfort. I will never, ever, shy away from telling it like it is, again."

"Good," I told her. "Keith, Sam, Roger Parker. All are history. What's left for us is the future." I gave Elizabeth a grin when I said that, and she showed just the tip of her tongue between her lips. "We have to make it better."

"Yeah. Well, I know I've said it before, others have said it. Thanks, Tom."

"And you're welcome." I paused, remembering that Janey had said she and Dawn were close. "How's Janey?"

"Grumpy." Dawn said. "She gets out of the hospital Thursday or Friday. Janey hates sleeping on her stomach; she snores she says." She grinned at me, "I could tell her she snores laying on her side, on her back..."

And that, I thought, made it quite clear where Dawn was coming from, and going to. I smiled at her, she smiled at me, and she turned and walked away.

"Cat's goodbye," Sue Ellen said softly.

"Pardon?" I asked, not understanding.

"Not a long drawn out scene. Just, bye and go. Cats usually don't bother with the goodbye, either."

Oh. That was an interesting concept. I contemplated how I said goodbye to people. Was I cat? It didn't seem like I made a big deal out of saying goodbye. I contemplated being upside down. I contemplated what would have happened if I'd not been lucky. Did I really want to check out, without telling the people I love, goodbye?

Then it struck me. I had gone over to Tony's. I've been going to Tony's since grade school. Even after he moved, it wasn't that far away; I rode my bike over there a million times. I left for school every day; my parents went places. Every day, we would go do our individual things, all of us. Make a big production out of saying goodbye every day? Wouldn't that cheapen and devalue the sentiment? It would sure get old fast. For me and for everyone around me.

I met Sue Ellen's eyes. She looked like she was going to giggle. "I didn't expect you to go off into never-never land," she told me.

"It's something I never thought about," I told her. "Now I'm wondering if it's something you could over do."

She smiled. "You can overdo anything, Tom. Like you and me."

We were a little ways away from everyone else, she had pitched her voice low.

"Sue Ellen, it was good. But..."

"Yeah," she said with emphasis.

"Friends, though, right?" I told her.

She reached out, and grabbed my arm with both hands, and twisted hard. "You better be!"

"Uncle!" I called, "I promise!"

I went back to Elizabeth, who had put her nose in a book almost the instant I'd gotten up. Tony saw her mark her place and smile at me when I sat down.

"Gosh Tom, isn't it nice to know you come ahead of a book?"

I put my hand on Elizabeth's and squeezed gently. "Tony, some of us are just glad to be there at the end of the day."

He grinned at me, and then checked out Elizabeth.

I sat back down, pulled out my lunch and handed Elizabeth one of the cupcakes. Since I made them, I'd seen fit to include a couple of extras with my lunch.

She took it, and then spoke to me, deadpan. "Tom has found the secret of women, ladies. We should kill him; chocolate unlocks crossed legs and libidos."

Sue Ellen reached over and grabbed my lunch bag, pulling out the other two cupcakes I had stuffed away. She took one, handed the other to Shannon, helped herself to the other. "Naw, let's just lock him away in the kitchen and promise him some quality time, anytime he makes more chocolate whatever."

"Chocolate, eh?" Tony said. "I'll have to remember that."

"Mom says that chocolate doesn't stick just to your ribs," I proffered. "Thighs, hips, tummy..."

"Breasts?" Elizabeth said, hopefully. It was even better than the deadpan line a second before.

"Gosh," Sue Ellen said, glancing down. "I hope not!"

It was like I was lying in the sun, basking in the warmth. Only this was the warmth from friends and lovers. It warmed the heart; something that sun warmed skin was just a pale imitation of.

When bell rang at the end of lunch, I half expected to get called to the office. Nothing had happened, so I started towards my next class. Enroute, my cell phone starting buzzing to itself on my belt. I stopped and picked up.

"Bill Carstairs, Tom."

"Sir," I said politely. "I thought you would get back to me sooner."

He didn't seem to mind the criticism. "On your behalf, I told the school district not to undertake a personnel action against one of the school secretaries."

"I don't understand," I told him.

"It's a bureaucratic thing; called covering your ass. The principal decided to drop the whole suspension thing; then issued this letter of reprimand to the secretary who he'd given the job of researching what you're supposed to have done. It took some major league pressure, but they finally coughed up the secretary's original memo. It's just a simple recitation of the facts, mostly accurate. The interpretation was all this Dr. Stone's.

"I told the secretary to refer the matter to her union representative. Now, like I said, that's not going to happen. The bottom line is that you are no longer under threat of suspension. Maybe someone in the district management will have a quiet talk with him, but..."

"I just wanted it straightened out," I told the lawyer. "I wasn't looking to jam any one up." I was kind of proud of myself for that line; stole it from a NYPD episode I'd seen once. I don't watch much TV, but now and then I did.

"That should be it, Tom. Glad we could help."

I put the phone away, and then had to hustle for my first class of the afternoon.

I'd not been that sleepy last night or in the morning, but after the phone call I was sleepy. It was a fight to stay awake all afternoon. I dropped JR, Jenny and Penny off first at our house, picked up my things for overnight. Then I went to Mary's house for a bit, and Elizabeth and I sat on a couch and kissed for a while. I didn't want to get too romantic, and Elizabeth just enjoyed being hugged and kissed. I enjoyed it when I could sense her getting excited and horny. Knowing that you can arouse someone; I don't know how to describe it. It's nice; a compliment to you as a person, as a lover. Is there a better compliment? I don't think so!

After about a half hour I told her that I'd be back around seven and set off into the afternoon traffic for South Phoenix.

I took the Squaw Peak Freeway, and the traffic going into town wasn't as bad as the surface streets had been yesterday; of course, I then had another four or five miles to go further south, but I took 16th Street, which wasn't too bad.

I was expecting I'd be late; as it was, I was about twenty minutes early. I didn't want to sit in the van for that long, so I decided that if nothing else, I could wait inside.

The office was set in a row of small stores. There was a beauty salon, a small restaurant, a dentist's office, and the one that I wanted. South Phoenix Youth Outreach had Venetian blinds in the windows, blinds that were closed. I opened the door and walked in.

There was an area about twenty or so feet on a side, with a desk and some file cabinets in a corner. There were two doors in the back wall. One was labeled, 'Rest Room' and the other was open, showing an office beyond. The office was warmer than most offices and homes, low 80's I thought. The air was moist, too. It had been a while, I realized, since I'd been anywhere that relied on evaporative cooling.

Dad had told me once that growing up in Phoenix everyone's favorite place to go in the summer was the Palms Theater, which at the time was one of the few air conditioned public places in the city. Everyone else relied on water trickled through pads, with a fan sucking in outside air that was cooled as the water in the pads evaporated. That had been more or less the standard up through the 70's and early 80's, when it started to change. A lot of people used heat pumps, which is what we had.

How much would it cost, I wondered, to cool a huge place like the building I was thinking about. I made a note to myself in my mind. Look at utility costs, water, electric, gas, trash collection and be sure to put that in the memo Craig wanted. I was pretty sure he was going to be even worse than Dad had been about zoo animals left out of my survey, if I left anything out of what he wanted me to do.

There was a very tall black man, talking to two much shorter, very plump black women. He was also very thin, and moved with quick, nervous energy. He was in his thirties, I thought, but he could have just been one of my hyperactive classmates from the way he moved.

He'd glanced at me as I came in. I just stood still, knowing that when it was my turn, I'd be seen.

One of the black women nodded and sat down at the desk, pulling a laptop out of a case I'd not seen before, because it had been behind the desk. She plugged it in and booted it up. The other woman talked for a few minutes more, then she walked past me, ignoring me.

The man, Marcus Stewart-Jones, I presumed, turned and went into the office in the back. He was gone for four or five minutes, and when he came back, he had a Pepsi can in his hand.

"Marcus Stewart-Jones," he said, offering me his hand, still wet and cold from the soda pop can.

"Tom Ferguson."

He looked me up and down, seemed to sniff in derision. "So white boy, you want to ride along and look at what's happening on the street, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

"It's Marcus," he growled.

"That's what I want to do, Marcus."

"Tell me young mister rich white kid, why would you want to do that? Is it a school assignment? Going to get some extra credit doing some volunteer work for your preppie school? Or you just want to see how the other half lives, so you can go back home and tell yourself how good you've got it?"

I felt my anger start to rise, but I quelled it. I took an extra second, and then looked him in the eye. "In the last couple of weeks, I've had a chance to help a couple of people. I liked doing it. But I realized I don't have a clue what the world's really like. I've just seen a tiny, tiny bit of it."

He cast his eyes upward. "Oh Lord! A do-good lookie-lou! A voyeur!" He pointed at the door. "I don't need you, rich white boy. Just take yourself back outside."

"Funny," I spoke, trying hard to keep my temper, "the other day I was talking to a nice black girl who told me that the only discrimination she's had in her life was from other blacks who think because she gets good grades that makes her white.

"The other day, my girlfriend had a heart attack on the street. Her heart stopped. I gave her mouth-to-mouth until the fire department arrived. I didn't hardly think it was remarkable or that it mattered at all that some of the firemen and paramedics were white, some black, and some brown. Last week I was in a car accident, the fire department and police came and rescued me. It took a couple of hours. All the colors of the rainbow on that crew, Marcus. It wasn't worth paying attention to; they were people doing their job. That's what they told me. Just doing the job. Both times, they did their job well.

"I wanted to ride along with the police; I can't. I'm too young and it's too dangerous. I wanted to ride along with the firemen or paramedics. Ditto, actually, they were more emphatic about it.

"All I want to do, Marcus, is ride along and see what it's like on the street.

"You're right, I'm rich. My parents are wealthy. I can no more help who I was born to than you could. So what? They did a good job of keeping the sort of thing I want to see away from me, when I was growing up. Well, I wouldn't saw I'm grown up yet, but I'm old enough to see more of what the underside of life is like."

He stared at me for a few minutes. "First thing, you come along, you gotta keep your mouth shut. Can you keep your mouth shut?"

I nodded.

It took him a second to realize that was all I was going to do. He looked like he'd swallowed a lemon.

"Another thing, the most important thing. You will not be judgmental."

"If I'm not talking, I should think I would be keeping my opinions to myself."

"Body language, that and there are times you'll just feel like you just have to talk. That's a lot of what I do, out there. I talk. Weather, this and that. Nothing serious. I never ever, nor will you, hint, make a sound, face, grimace, whatever, that in any way disparages them or their lifestyle."

It wasn't that I hadn't thought about what it was like to live on the streets, but I realized instantly I'd been looking at it from my own point of view. I'd be worried about staying warm, staying cool, staying dry. Where to pee. I would worry about being robbed, all of that.