Author: Alison
Title: Sunday Matinee
Pairings: none
Summary: Character study of Don and Charlie, set during their junior year of high school
Rating: PG
Spoilers: none
Don spun around and lobbed his Burger King cup into the trash can with a perfect arc. Baseball was his game but he could hold his own on the basketball court as well. At 17 Don was athletic and muscular, having never gone though an awkward, lanky phase.
Paul and Dave walked slightly ahead of him. Paul was loudly theorizing about the sex lives of girls in their class and bragging about his own, which Don strongly suspected was mostly fictitious. Don himself had only gotten to second base with his girlfriend, Sandy, despite her promise that she would go all the way on his birthday. She hadn't.
Don was still trying to decide if he should break up with her. His parents seemed to like her and she was the head cheerleader, not to mention her amazing body. But she bored him. And he couldn't see himself heading off to college still roped into a relationship. Of all his friends, only Dave never talked bad about his girlfriend behind her back, a sign Don took to mean he really liked her.
"Isn't that your brother?" Paul said, putting an arm around Don's shoulder, and whispering conspiringly.
Don looked over and saw the small, dark figure of his 12 year old brother peeking at them around the building. Why couldn't Charlie ever just leave him alone? He was always skulking around. It was like having a stalker.
Don couldn't count the number of times he had gone to his room after school only to find his things moved. Yearbooks taken down from the shelf and leafed through. His MVP baseball off its stand. He would storm down the stairs, showing his mother the irrefutable evidence and demand Charlie be punished. But his mother would just sigh and sit him down and explain how Charlie looked up to him so much, and blah blah blah.
"What do you want me to take away?" she would ask. "He doesn't have friends like you. He doesn't play any sports. How should I punish him?"
"Take his bike, Mom!" Don would yell back. But the next day, there was Charlie, riding around the neighborhood. That's what passed for justice in the Eppes household. Charlie got to do anything he wanted, whenever he wanted, and Don just had to "understand".
"Yeah, that's Charlie," Don answered Paul with a shrug.
"Let's mess with him," said Paul, stifling a snicker.
"Come on," protested Don. "I just want to see the movie."
"No, seriously," said Paul. "Come on, let's take his bike."
"That would be so cool!" agreed Dave.
Don looked at his friends eager faces. Both of them were on the baseball team with him, and if he backed down or showed any weakness, they could make his life hell. Two hours on a bus to an away game with a team of guys who thought you were a wimp could be a living nightmare. He'd participated in enough hazing to know that first hand.
"Sure, why not?" he said.
His friends smiled and clapped each other on the back, proud of their little plan.
"Hey, Charlie!" Don called out. His brother's eyes widened in surprise. Don wished Charlie wouldn't make himself such an easy target all the time. "Charlie! Come here!"
Charlie didn't grin so much as beam as he jogged his bike to where the group of boys were standing.
"Hey, man," said Don. "We want you to hang out with us."
"Really?" the young boy gasped. He looked like he was ready to burst with happiness.
Paul circled around Charlie, whose attention was fixed firmly on his older brother. He reached out and hooked his arms over Charlie's, capturing him in a full-nelson hold. Charlie struggled but it was no use. Don scooped up his legs and they carried him to the alley behind the movie theater. Dave followed, riding Charlie's bike.
"What do we do now?" asked Dave, making figure-eights around the two boys restraining the still-struggling Charlie.
"Let the air out of his tires!" called Paul.
"No!" yelled Charlie. Paul finally released him.
Charlie began running after Dave, trying to catch him. "Come on!" he yelled. Dave laughed as he dodged the boy's pursuit.
Paul pointed and laughed. "You're brother is such a loser!" he said. Don didn't respond at all, just stood and watched.
"Come on! Bring the bike over here. We'll trash it," said Paul. Dave turned to ride back to where Paul and Don were standing.
"No!" yelled Charlie again, sprinting for his most prized possession.
Don caught him on the way past and knocked him to the ground with a powerful shove. "Stay down!" he ordered.
Instead, the boy scrambled to his feet and lunged towards Dave, who was trying to pull the chain off its spokes. Don reached out to push him again, but Paul got there first.
"He said, stay down!" Paul bellowed. Don could see what was about to happen, but found himself unable to stop it. He stood like a statue and watched as Paul reached back with his fist and connected with Charlie's cheek, just below his eye. Charlie hit the ground, hard. He lifted himself onto his hands and looked up the three boys, his eyes full of tears, but he didn't cry. Don could see blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
Suddenly Don couldn't take anymore. "That's enough!" he yelled.
"What's your..." Paul started, but Don cut him off.
"Just stay the hell away from him!" Don went over to his brother and hauled him to his feet by the back of his shirt. He turned to Dave. "Give me the bike."
"Geez, we were just messing around," said Dave, letting go of the bike and letting it clatter to the ground.
Don righted it and started pushing it to the parking lot. "Come on Charlie," he said quietly. "We're going home." Charlie scurried after him.
They rode most of the way home in silence. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Charlie watching him. Finally Don spoke up. "Listen, you don't need to go and tell mom and dad about this, okay? I mean, it's not like it was a big deal, and no one meant for you to get hurt. So just tell mom you wrecked your bike. She'll pay to get it fixed and everything." Charlie didn't respond. "Okay, buddy? You got it? If you tell them, I'm just gonna get in trouble."
"Yeah," Charlie said, barely above a whisper.
That evening, Charlie didn't say anything to their mother. She, as usual, babied Charlie, making him keep ice on his swollen lip and giving him an extra slice of pie for desert. He spent most of the evening alone upstairs while Don watched TV with his father. Don couldn't concentrate on the program, though. His thoughts always returned to the image of Charlie hitting the pavement.
"Dad? Can I talk to you?" he finally said.
"Sure. What is it?" his father asked, not taking his eyes off the TV.
Don suddenly lost his nerve. His whole life, he had been nothing but a disappointment compared with Charlie. He didn't do as well in school. He didn't get a perfect score on his SATs. He didn't skip a million grades. Don firmly believed that if Charlie had been born first, he never would have been. What use would they have with a normal son after Charlie? He couldn't stand, once again, feeling like a failure to them.
"Nothing," he said. "I'm going upstairs."
"You sure there wasn't anything else?" asked their father, looking straight at his son.
Don forced a small smile. "I'm sure. I just gotta do that trig homework." He climbed the stairs two at a time and went into his room and shut the door. His math notebook sat open on his bed.
Dammit! thought Don. He's been in here again! But this time Don decided not to do anything about it. There, on the pages in front of him, was all of his homework, complete and correct. Charlie had even been careful to mimic his handwriting.