Chapter III- A New Direction


It turned out Jack stayed in jail for exactly a week. His father, a long-time friend of the chief judge for the county, privately asked that his son be kept there for a little while longer than he knew his son would expect. Jack's surprise was soon replaced by resentment. He'd always loved gloating at school, especially when rubbing it in to some kid he was pushing around, about how rich his dad was. How he'd always bail him out, always give Jack what he wanted in the end. This he hadn't bargained on.

But after a few days of nothing, he settled in to the routine. Jack even started to mend his manners a bit- by his fourth day in jail he had the sheriff's deputy who brought food to his cell calling him by name. Jack also got along well with each of his cell-mates; many of them were friends of his anyway; teenage boys in Camden County who got arrested with any frequency tended to know each other.

Finally, when Jack's father got the 'good behavior' report he'd been waiting for from the sheriff, he came and picked Jack up. Cleaned up and with his cuts and bruises reduced to a few scars, Jack was all but openly beaming under his messy, short-cut blonde hair when the deputies brought them out. After apologizing to his parents at home and settling in to the routine of summer life again, Jack began to feel confident again. Confident that he'd managed to bury his latest screwup effectively; confident that his parents would again forgive and again, in time, forget.

Jack even managed to forget a little himself; the first Sunday he spent at home after being released, Jack played a game of hide-and-seek in the backyard with his little brother. Michael, staggering about on his chubby toddler's legs, squealed with delight as Jack darted from place to place, making a showy and valiant effort to escape his brother's pursuit. They were much alike, even sharing the same silvery-blonde hair. As Jack picked up his brother and spun him around after being 'captured' in the garden, he smiled. Michael didn't think anything less than the world of him. Michael never judged, never became stern or sanctimonious towards the lawless, rebellious Jack. He just loved Jack, for all that he was and wasn't. It was a pure, simple loyalty that Jack didn't see in many people beyond ages two or three. And it was easily the biggest reason Jack, a person who loved to party but cared little for anyone around him, made an exception for his baby brother. Michael meant something to him, even if nobody else did.

Jack was so content that Sunday afternoon, as a matter of fact, that he didn't even notice the oddity of mail being on the table when no mail came that day. Quickly rifling through what was there, Jack figured it was from yesterday. Noticing something unusual- an old, red-and-white building with brick walls and tall columns at its front on the picture he could see- Jack pulled that piece of mail out of the pile.

What the hell?

"Bunker Hill Military Academy?" Jack wondered aloud, halfway to laughing at the very idea. Jack Merridew, go to military school? No way was that happening. No four walls could hold him, and certainly not some boarding school with guns that didn't work and fancy uniforms. Jack considered for a moment. Girls did dig those army uniforms…

No. No, even that wasn't worth all the inconvenience. Besides, Jack reminded himself with a smirk, he'd already proven he didn't need a uniform to get girls.

Footsteps coming down the hallway- one of Jack's favourite things about nearly the whole Merridew household having hardwood floors was the fact that you could hear everybody coming. They never did know how to walk quietly enough.

Jack's father, Charles Merridew, came into the kitchen, followed moments later by Susan Merridew, Jack's mother. Charles was a tall, well-built man, who despite his thriving business career, still found time to look after his family… even, perhaps especially, his wayward son. Susan Merridew was the keeper of the household; old-fashioned as that idea was coming to be viewed as, Susan believed it was the best method for a stable home. Govern alongside the husband, yes, but let him take the lead in moments where a harsher kind of justice was required. This, she knew, was one of those moments.

Busy gnawing at a piece of toast and ruffling Michael's hair as Michael threw his piece- along with a good helping of jam- across the room, Jack never noticed any of the subtle signs that something was happening. Or about to happen.

Holding up the DMS brochure, Jack looked at his dad as he walked over to the fridge. "Something for Michael, hey, Dad?"

Jack's dad took his time getting some orange juice and sliced ham out of the refrigerator. He knew what he was going to have to say anytime now, and he knew Jack wasn't going to like it. But to hell with it- Jack should have considered how much his parents weren't going to like having to pay for a destroyed 1985 Plymouth Gran Fury, plus $500 bail charges. That part he should have considered. Yes, indeed.

Jack sensed something was a little off when his dad turned around. The slight tension in his face, the fact that he didn't respond to Jack's joke… what was going on here?

He wasn't waiting long.

"No, Jack… I'm afraid that's not for Michael. That's for you."

Jack stared. What?

"They've got a summer program starting in July. You're going to that, and you've got a year at Bunker Hill ahead of you in the fall."

"But- but- today's June 27th!" Jack almost screamed, jumping up so suddenly his little brother exclaimed in surprise.

The elder Merridew's both nodded. Jack's father went on with deliberate calm, "You've still got a couple days left. Enjoy them, because that stunt you pulled over at Megan's house just bought you a whole year at military school."

Jack stood there in the kitchen with his fists clenched, nearly trembling with impotent, useless rage. "That's not fair!" Jack shouted.

"Actually, it IS!" Mr. Merridew shouted back, ignoring the surprised wail of Michael at the noise. "You have any idea how stupid that was of you? You got caught having sex with a girl whose father had told you to stop seeing his daughter; you stole a car, wrecked it, and in the process nearly killed yourself. Do you have any idea how serious this is?"

"Life isn't a game like you think it is, Jack." Mr. Merridew said, quieting down again. He no longer sounded, or even felt angry. He just couldn't understand why his son wouldn't quit taking every dare someone held in front of his face, and looking at rules and laws as something he had a duty to defy. He added, finally, "You're going on July 1st, Jack. I'm not hearing any argument about it."

Jack sat back down. Michael made a low sobbing noise, upset but having no idea why. Jack held his brother, and after cleaning up the thrown toast made him another piece, and sat out in the backyard again. Michael nibbled at the toast, but the joy had gone out of the afternoon. Michael Merridew was young; there was a lot he didn't know, and couldn't understand. But even he could tell his brother was very bothered by something. Jack sat on the back porch in silence, his mind miles away with dark, troubled thoughts. Freedom. He was losing his freedom… and who knew how long it would be before he saw his little brother again. A few tears found their way down his cheeks; rather than wipe them away, Jack furiously blinked and pretended they weren't there.

"Wompers!" Michael cried, suddenly hugging his brother's middle just as tight as he could. He didn't know what was bothering Jack; only that he wanted his big brother to not be bothered by it anymore.

Taken by surprise, Jack had to duck his head so no one could see him silently burst into tears. Touched by his brother's gesture, Jack hugged him back. When he looked up, though, staring into the gradually setting sun, his ice-blue eyes were hard. Jack could be mean and cold when he wanted to be, and he knew there would be some rough types at Bunker Hill. If he was going to get by there- not just survive, but excel- Jack knew he'd need to be hard. He'd have to be mean. It was his sensitive side, the part of him that did care, even if for only a few things and people, that he'd have to hide the most.

Bunker Hill Military Academy… Jack turned over the upsides and downsides in his mind, over and over again. By the time he went to bed that night, Jack had made up his mind. Whatever happened, however long he went there, Jack would do what he always did- push hard and shove harder. Take what he could, as often as he could take it, and give back only what he wanted to.

And if the chance ever came to escape life at that school, at the first opportunity he got to ditch that school and its stupid uniforms for good… Jack was gonna take it. And God help anyone who got in his way.