Hey guys! Decided to start a new story! YAY! *throws dance party and everyone starts celebrating*
Disclaimer: Not Rick. DEALS WITH IT.
(And a short PS; this story has no swearing, but it has cut-off swearing. Like, "Holy sh-!" No cuss word was said because for some reason or another the speaker wasn't able to finish. Just a warning. But the story's still K+)
ENJOY!
Leo
Leo Valdez fidgeted impatiently in his seat at the front of the small courtroom. He tried to tell himself to sit perfectly still and wait patiently for the session to begin, but with every passing second this rule was becoming harder and harder to obey. (He was ADHD, okay? These kinds of things are difficult.)
The first three rows of benches in this particular courtroom were full of observers—his sixth foster family, friends of his sixth foster family, and what Leo believed to be a class of tenth graders on a field trip for Government Class. (This didn't reassure him much.)
In the front row, Leo's sixth foster father—Mr. Scholer—sat beside their hired lawyer, Jack Stephens. Leo had an undying hatred for that guy, always tempted to pull out some epic back-pocket machine gun and to start shooting random heads when he appeared in his life. Stephens shared the same hatred for Leo that Leo did for him. They knew each other from past cases against Leo, Stephens always opposing and winning.
"We are gathered here today to discuss what will become of Leo Valdez, son of Esperanza Valdez, now deceased," started the jury or judge or whatever his proper name was. Leo never remembered—never really bothered—so simply referred to him as That-Annoying-Fat-Guy-In-A-Dress-That-Plays-With-Hammers.
(It's the ADHD again.)
After more of his useless introduction chitchat, he finally announced that Stephens would be able to start since Leo didn't have a lawyer and no one bothered pay one for him. (Would someone anyway?) After a long stalling glass of water that made Leo clench his fists beneath the table, Stephens stood up and began to pace in front of Annoying-Dress.
"We may all know that the subject in question has run away from the Scholer family," he started. Leo scowled and pictured a sledgehammer coming down on a puppy, and restrained himself from yelling out, "And now I'm just a subject?"
"...But we all may not be aware of the fact that Leo Valdez has in fact run away not only once, not even twice, but five continuous times beforehand," Stephens continued. "Once when he was ten, again at eleven, thirteen, fourteen, and just seven months ago was the fifth. Now the kind and indebted Scholer family have taken up the task of fostering the meagre, orphaned boy for ten months, and yet he has run away yet another time, just five workdays ago." Stephens glanced up and smiled just a little more than maliciously at Leo.
Picture the bazooka, Leo. Imagine it blowing off this stupid guy's head along with his stupid negative 9000th Century vocabulary.
Another thought hit him that made him frown.
Wait, what did he call me? Meagre? What does that even mean? Does it… does it mean that I'm not enough? God, I really hate him now. I mean, I hated him before, but this has just gotten much more than serious and personal. I think. Have we already crossed that line?
Leo, control the ADHD. Now, breathe in… out…
"What for?" Stephens continued. "For what purpose?" He turned to the infinitesimal and uninterested crowd, then back to Leo again.
"Why?" he asked, taking steps closer with every word he spoke. "Why are you such a disturbed child? All your foster families were nice. They cared for you—and yet you run away. All your teachers all complain about how low grades you get, especially in English. Don't tell me there's a reason, boy. I did some research, and the only disease you have is ADHD."
"Whoa," interrupted Leo. "Back up. First of all, ADHD isn't a disease. It's a disorder."
Like you'd know the difference, El Stupido.
Stephens didn't say anything for a while, as if asking Leo, Do you dare question me? Finally he corrected himself a little cruelly, "A disorder."
"And second," Leo continued. "I mean, stalkers are hardcore, man. Like, they've got tuxedoes and tinted sunglasses and super low voices... or maybe those are the men in black... but either way they're all scars and mysterious back-pocket pistols and creepy phone calls in the middle of the night; 'I know where you live' and stuff. Basically, they're cool. I don't think you're up for the task if you're gonna spill my entire life's story for show-and-tell without even trying blackmail first."
"Oh, so now I'm a stalker?!" roared Stephens. "For doing my job?" He looked at Fat Robes with an incredulous expression on his face that Leo was pretty sure only he and a handful of the bored tenth graders in the back who have had experience with these faces could catch as fake.
"Okay, look," continued Leo, emphasizing his point with his hands (which were bound together with strong metal handcuffs). "I'm a troubled kid. As well as an awesome one. I admit that. But I've lived a hard life. I have ADHD, like you just politely stalkerized, but my mom also died when I was eight; how could I not be emotionally unstable inside?" Leo pounded his chest softly with his hands. "Like, really, dude. Have a heart for some kid whose mom died and never knew his father."
"She didn't die!" roared Stephens, and before Leo could point out that of course his mom was dead, he added, "You killed her! That's why you're a troubled kid. He killed her!" He yelled the last part out to the small audience.
"Wow, dude," said Leo. "I wish someone was filming this. This is intense."
"They say she died in a fire," Stephens started.
"Sure, say that," said Leo, leaning back in his seat boringly.
"I say she did!"
"Oh, and you just figured this out?"
"But the rumours say that you started that fire!" Stephens yelled, whirling around quickly and pointing a finger at Leo so close to his nose he had to look cross-eyed to be able to tell what it was. "I spoke to some old neighbours of yours, and they told me that you were always a strange kid. A child of the devil. Isn't that why your Aunt Rosa and her son Raphael didn't take you in? Because you're a devil of a child?" Stephens stood face to face with Leo. Leo was about to yawn sarcastically, something he knew for a fact that Stephens hated, but the lawyer was already moving away.
"So there we have it," finished Stephens. He turned toward Black-Robe. "I believe this concludes my rant," he said, turned and sat back down in his seat. If Leo had been an eight-year-old, he would have stuck out his tongue at him and possibly blown a raspberry.
"So I have no choice," said Fat Guy, pushing his half-moon glasses back up his fairly squat nose. "No orphanage or foster home wants to take you in. Nobody would ever adopt you, I'm sure of that. And with your not-necessarily clean criminal past backing you up, it appears I have no choice. Juvie it is."
"Anywhere but here," said Leo. "Even if they don't serve tacos in prison." As he rolled his eyes, he caught sight of Stephens glaring at him.
Ha ha.
"Your honour, please hold to what I have to say," Stephens started. "There is a second option left." He paused, possibly for suspense. "The Wilderness School. I'm sure you've heard of it."
"I have indeed," confirmed Fat Guy, nodding his head once, causing the excessive chubbiness on his neck to ripple and grow more chins.
"You want to send me to a zoo!?" Leo demanded, obviously making the conclusion.
Stephens glared at him. "School, Leo. School." He turned back to Black-Dress. "Why not send him there?" he continued politely. "It's secluded and out of the way, with much praise attached to its educational course. I'm sure the saty—I mean... teachers there will take very good care of him."
The fat guy thought about it and rubbed his multiple chins, which for Leo looked way too cliché. "I don't know…" he started.
But Jack Stephens never lost an argument. After five minutes of persuading, it was decided that Leo would go to The Wilderness School, wherever in ever that was.
Stephens then excused himself from the Scholer family, saying that he was needed elsewhere. Leo turned to watch him disappear out the large door at the end of the room, praying to gods in several different religions that he would never see him again.
And it was—at least in the mortal world. But they met again a few months later, at the place Leo and many others call Camp Half-Blood.
Piper
"Piper!"
The girl in question turned to face the speaker, speed-walking down the corridor towards her. The person didn't sound pleased. Once Piper recognized it was her dad, Piper immediately turned away from him before he could get close. She told herself it was because she was stressed and mad at the moment and didn't want to see anyone, but a sad part of her heart told her she didn't want to see the disappointment on her father's face—the disappointment she knew would be there.
"What?" she replied, her voice carrying far down the narrow hallway.
"I came here to let you know that the trial will be running a bit late by half an hour." Tristan McLean—model, actor, and father of Piper McLean—told her. His voice was compromised of several emotions, none too positive. "The one before yours ran a bit late."
"Wonderful," Piper replied, avoiding his gaze by focusing on the dull baige tiles that made up the floor. "Let them know I wouldn't mind it if they postponed my trial—for a crime I didn't commit—until forever either."
"Piper," her father started, 'stern' becoming the main emotion in his voice. "You stole a BMW."
If they were in a comedy TV show, the spontaneous laughter that came from nowhere would have just been cued.
"I didn't steal it," Piper objected, although her plea for innocence seemed to have the same amount of argument that throwing a stone at a brick wall does.
"Ah, yes, I remember now," he father said disapprovingly. "It sprouted legs and followed you home." There was a pause, which soon became of a length that Piper thought Tristan would leave. He had never been good at parenting when it came to personal talks, and lecturing was included as a subcategory. So to finish, he finially told her (just to finalize the last words), "I am very disappointed in you." Then, judging by his gradually silencing footsteps, he walked away. Just when she was certain he was far enough away to not be looking her, Piper turned her head to watch her father leave. The sigh that followed felt hollow.
She waited another twenty minutes alone on her bench, only a big analog clock fifteen paces down the corridor revealing passing time. During the final ten minutes someone came to sit with her and lead her into the courtroom when the trial was to begin.
The next hour passed as a blur. Piper was aware of her highly paid-for lawyer defending her valiantly, but it just so happened that the BMW's owner had a very good lawyer as well. (Apparently theft could be considered very serious.) The judge was fair either way, though—Mr. Stephens, if she remembered his name correctly—but finally the BMW's lawyer won the court battle.
Being as fair as he was, though, Mr. Stephens decided that Piper would not go to juvie—thank God—but to some school in the middle of nowhere for a year. Piper was glad that that was it—she could simply think of it as just another ordinary boarding school.
The handcuffs were taken off her, and she was allowed to go home with her father so that she could pack and say her goodbyes. In a week, she'd board a train that would take her to this boarding school, the Wilderness School. (She didn't fancy the name, though. It made her feel as if she were going to live in the jungle or an African safari or somewhere secluded and outdoorsy.)
The two of them didn't speak much to each other in that week. Before Piper realized it the days had flown down to Sunday, and they had to leave to catch the train. Government officials knocked on their door at eleven in the morning to pick them up.
At the train station, Piper's father looked down at his daughter a bit sadly. "Bye, Pipes," he said, leaning down for a hug. A few people began to stare, possibly vaguely wondering why the man looked familiar to later remember from what movie they had seen him star in, and realize they had just missed an awesome opportunity to get a selfie with a celebrity—but that was a normal thing for Piper and her father.
"I love you," Piper whispered.
"Me too," he replied. "Just try not to steal more cars. Please."
Piper pulled away and opened her mouth to complain, but realized it was a joke and smiled gratefully.
She boarded the train along with a few other students. She found a compartment to herself at the back of the train and sat down, resting her three bags beside her so that she could look out the window to see if she could spot her father. But he had already left.
*psst* Hey, you. Yeah, you. See that review box below? I want you to write something in it, and post for the story. They'll be much appreciated. :)