Chapter 4

Bobby and Jack remained in the car for a couple minutes after Bobby parked at the curb in front of the elementary school. A moment of silence passed between them while the radio filled the void.

Bobby gazed at the school with a frown, a mixture of memories passing through his mind. Some were great, like the moments he remembered thinking he knew more than all the people that worked there, and some were less than stellar.

Jack eyed the building apathetically. It didn't look any different than any other schools.

"Do you like school?" Bobby asked after a minute passed.

Jack let the question go unanswered at first, mostly because he didn't know how to respond. While it was a simple question, so were most on the surface. Answers were never as simple as the questions.

And besides, the Rolling Stones were currently on the radio, and why would anyone have a conversation during that? He listened to the guitar riffs quietly.

"Jack."

Sometimes when you didn't respond, the questions just went away, Jack recalled. Especially when you didn't make eye contact.

"C'mon, Jack. Do you like school?"

It didn't seem to work with Bobby. A moment later the man turned the key in the ignition, turning the car off. The radio remained on with the auxiliary power.

Jack glanced at him briefly and then back at the school building. Did anyone like school? "This one?"

Bobby smirked. "This one you don't know. But in general." He paused as Jack turned away again to look out the window. "Probably not, right? Who does? Nerds I guess." With that, Bobby opened the car door on the driver side, and the radio went dead.

Jack felt a sense of disappointment as the music disappeared.

There was now nothing filling that void.

He glanced back towards Bobby but the man was already out of the car, pushing the door shut behind him.

He sighed. A heavy feeling suddenly filled his chest. Alone in the car at that moment, he suddenly felt the world shift around him.

Outside the car, Bobby stood on the curb, waiting for Jack to join him. There was no movement from the car. He let roughly twenty seconds pass before he grew frustrated. "What's with this kid?" he muttered under his breath.

He took a step towards the passenger door and reached out for the handle. He pulled the car door open, and Jack looked up at him with a startled look.

"There's a reason I parked here, brainiac," Bobby told him. "Come on. Get out. We're going inside." That's when he realized he had left the folder of papers he needed on the back seat. He mumbled a curse and stepped over to open the back door.

"It shouldn't take long," he said as he reached in across the seat to where the folder sat. He grabbed it and moved back to shut the back door once again.

Still quiet, Jack had at least exited the car. He now shut the passenger door, looking once again at the school.

"It's a good school," Bobby assured as they started to walk. "Kids are nice." After the words left his mouth, he shook his head. How would you know? he asked himself. You haven't even stepped into this school in what, ten years? But what was he supposed to say?

"Do you smoke?" Jack asked suddenly.

Bobby glanced at him in surprise, but Jack was looking right ahead of where they were walking. "What kinda question is that?" he answered. "And no. You've been here a couple weeks now. Have you seen me smoke?"

"No," Jack admitted.

"Though I've caught you trying it a few times." Bobby rolled his eyes. "I've tried it myself. Not for me."

Jack didn't answer right away. They were just reaching the door of the school when he said, "You didn't lock the car."

"If someone wants to steal that piece of shit from in front of a school, then let 'em," Bobby answered. He opened the door to the school and let Jack walk in first.

A wave of nostalgia passed over him. The hallways were different - now painted mint green instead of that puke orange that they were years ago. The floors looked a little bit more beaten up, but that was understandable.

"How many kids go here?" Jack asked. He glanced at Bobby and noticed the way the man was studying the hall in front of them.

"Don't know exactly," Bobby said slowly. "It's average sized, I guess."

Jack didn't know what averaged sized meant, but he didn't ask.

"I think the administrative office was up that hall on the right," Bobby began, starting to walk again.

Jack begrudgingly followed him. He supposed school was one of these necessary evils. All kids had to go. All schools were more or less the same, he figured. You had your crowds. He hoped he could stay part of the invisible crowd here. His last school had many places to silently disappear into. He had a feeling he was going to miss that.

They turned down a hallway to the right when Bobby suddenly slowed down, approaching a display case built into the cinder block wall. There were shelves of medals and pictures. He let out an amused chuckle. "Wow, it's still here."

"What?" Jack asked.

Bobby gestured towards one of the shelves. "That's me."

Jack glanced at the shelves skeptically. It was too high for him to see what Bobby was looking at. When he looked back at the man, he realized that he was reaching for him and took an abrupt step back. "Stop," he objected instinctively.

Bobby's hands dropped to his side and he looked at Jack patiently. "Can I show you?"

"No."

Bobby made a face. "Why not?"

"Don't." Jack took another step back.

Bobby let out an exasperated breath and looked away for a minute, down the hall. The school was so quiet in the summer. He looked back at Jack and explained. "My baseball team won state two years in a row when I was a junior and a senior. There's a picture of the team and the trophy on the top shelf, still there. I was going to show you."

Jack eyed the display case suspiciously.

"You think I'm trying to trick you or something?" Bobby began. He shook his head. "Fine. Forget it." He started to walk away, turning his back to the case and to Jack.

Jack paused and glanced at the shelf again. "I want to see it."

Bobby stopped at the voice. He turned, eyeing Jack skeptically. "Now you want to see it?"

Jack nodded.

"Okay," Bobby replied. He tucked the folder of papers under his arm and walked back towards Jack. He immediately noticed that the kid visibly stiffened as he approached. From his shoulders to the way his jaw was set, Bobby could tell he was uncomfortable. On one hand, it frustrated him, because to his knowledge he hadn't really done anything that would make the kid think he would hurt him. On the other hand, he was also frustrated enough not to care, because it was too hard to calculate every move to not scare this kid. Besides, Jack who had said he wanted to see it. He wasn't forcing him.

He picked Jack up under his arms effortlessly and turned him to face the display case, holding him against his chest with one arm. "See?" He pointed to the picture in the middle of the case. He tried to ignore that he could feel Jack's heart racing against his arm over his chest. What was so stressful?

"Y-you're in the middle," Jack said tentatively.

"Yeah, I don't look much different, do I?"

"No," Jack admitted.

"You recognize the guy next to me?"

"No."

Bobby felt Jack start to squirm and let him slide down to the floor. "That's Danny," he said. "You know him."

"Yeah." Jack nodded. It was because of Danny he had his guitar. "My guitar."

"Exactly." Bobby smiled. "Speaking of which... If memory serves me correctly, let's take a small detour..." He started to walk and glanced behind him to make sure Jack was following. "If we turn here..." he made another right down a shorter hall, "then the first door should be... Bingo." He looked in at the old band room from his memory.

The room was empty of people, but full of instruments. Lined against one wall were cases that housed guitars, clarinets, and saxophones. Another wall had drums, cymbals, bells, and xylophones. Across on the other side of the room were smaller cases for flutes and piccolos.

He glanced at Jack. His eyes were scanning the room, from one corner to another. He suddenly seemed... calm.

"What is this?" Jack asked.

"Band. Another type of geek squad," Bobby responded. He took a step inside and reached over to the wall to flip on the light switch. The fluorescent lights hummed on and brightened the space. "Didn't your old school have a band?"

"I don't know," Jack said. "Not like this."

Bobby paused and then an idea crossed his mind. "You want to stay here?" Bobby offered. "While I do this boring stuff?" He held up the folder of documents.

Jack looked at him with a surprised expression. "Yes," he said quickly, as though the offer would be taken off the table if he hesitated.

"Alright," Bobby agreed. He glanced around the room again. "I never spent much time in here. Just, you know, don't break anything. And... Just stay here, okay?"

Jack had already wondered inside and was heading towards a keyboard. Bobby wondered that he didn't go to the guitar. I guess he has one at home now, he thought to himself.

"Jack," he said more firmly.

Jack froze and looked back at him, just inches from the keyboard. "I won't touch it," he said.

"Just listen for a minute," Bobby persisted. "Don't go anywhere. If you're not here when I get back, then you're going to be sorry when I find you, got it? None of that disappearing bullshit."

Jack just stared at him.

"Respond, Jack," Bobby said stiffly. "Or else you're coming with me now."

"Okay," Jack said.

"So you'll be here when I get back?" Bobby continued.

"Yes."

"Alright. That better be the case. I shouldn't be long." Bobby gave him one last reluctant look, wondering if leaving the kid alone was a bad 'parenting' idea, and then decided that at eleven years old, he had been pretty independent himself. The worst that could happen was something breaking, and having observed Jack's reverence of musical instruments to date, doubted that was likely.

He walked back toward the administrative office with a sigh.

Jack tentatively pressed his finger against the keys of the keyboard.

Nothing happened.

He frowned at it, confused. It looked like a piano but with a lot more buttons and and knobs and levers. His eyes scanned the lot of them, wondering what half of them did, and finally noticed a power button. He pressed it and it glowed red.

He gently pushed down on a key again.

This time a loud organ sound came out of the speakers of the machine, causing him to jump back, startled. He looked up at the doorway of the room cautiously, half expecting someone to be there to berate him for making noise or touching the instruments.

No one was there.

His heart pounded in his chest and he swallowed. Why did he feel like he shouldn't be there? Bobby told him to stay here. That implied he could touch the instruments. Didn't it?After all, Bobby hadn't responded to him about touching the keyboard. Should he have asked?

It was too late now.

Scanning the buttons and functions of the keyboard again, he this time noticed a few more details. One was a dial that let you change the sound of keyboard. There was organ, piano, flute, percussion, and more. He turned it back to piano.

The next thing he noticed was a volume dial. He turned that one down.

He pressed the key again, and finally heard the sound he expected from a machine that looked like a piano. He smiled briefly.

He knew the basics of using a piano. There was one beat up one in his old house. He was never allowed to play if anyone else was home, but he was alone enough to spend some time with it. Even so, there was always the fear of getting caught. 'Who the hell do you think you are? Beethoven?' Kevin always said when he found him trying to play, before yanking him off the piano bench and pushing him out of the room. One time Kevin had caught him off guard when he came home earlier than normal. He had shut the piano's lid right onto his fingers before he could even hear him coming. For days Jack thought one of his fingers was broken. Another time he had threatened to burn the piano, and the house with it, in one drunken fit of rage, but Jack remembered him saying that the ugly, beat-up piano had belonged to his grandmother. It was perhaps some twisted sense of nostalgia that kept the piano in one piece.

He realized the piano made him think of Kevin and shuddered.

He looked down at his hands. Then he turned his head to look around the room, suddenly uneasy. He looked at the doorway again, then at the windows behind him. The school was quiet which he found comforting and terrifying at the same time.

He turned back to the piano, trying to ignore the sudden sense that someone was watching him. He put both hands on the keys and slowly tried to remember a melody his mother once taught him.

Angel was surprised when he saw Jerry showed up at the auto repair shop that he worked.

"Want to get lunch?" Jerry asked when he located him, hands covered in oil and head ducked below the hood of an old Chevy.

Angel backed out from under the hood of the car and straightened his posture. He wiped his hands across the front of his already dirty coveralls and shook his head. "Man, I'm working."

"I know. It's one of the few times I know where to find you," Jerry responded. "And I know you get a lunch break."

Angel eyed him suspiciously. "Yeah, but-"

"And I know you didn't already get lunch," Jerry interjected. "It's barely noon."

Angel's eyes glanced over at the large clock on the wall - the one he found himself looking at fifty times a day. "Fine. Let me tell the boss."

"Don't have to be long," Jerry continued. "We can go to that deli on the corner."

"Still have to tell the boss..." Angel muttered.

Jerry watched his brother disappear from the garage and waited patiently. Angel was different recently. More reserved, more defensive. Lashing out more. It was more enhanced with Bobby home, but still Jerry didn't believe that to be a direct correlation. It wasn't like he hadn't been acting this way before Bobby came home.

"Okay, let's go," Angel said as he returned to the garage. "I've got forty-five minutes."

"What happened to lunch 'hour'?" Jerry smirked.

Angel rolled his eyes. "I was a little late this morning."

"Surprise, surprise."

"Whatever..." Angel started to walk towards the exit.

"You gonna wear that?"

Angel turned. "This?" He looked down at the dirty coveralls. "Yeah, so? What is this a fashion show? Trust me, the places around here are used to us walking in looking like this. I'll wash my hands."

Jerry laughed. "Alright."

Ten minutes later, they were sitting a small table inside the deli on the corner, two hero sandwiches in front of them. They ate without speaking for several minutes, until Angel finally broke the silence.

"So," he began. "Ain't you gonna say something?"

"Like what?" Jerry swallowed a large bite of the sandwich.

"I don't know." Angel looked up at him critically. "You came all the way over here for something."

"Can't I have lunch with my brother without a hidden agenda?"

"Usually not," Angel responded.

Jerry laughed. "True. Alright. Well, since you brought it up, I just wanted to see what was going on with you recently... I'm not kidding when I saw the few times I know where you are is when you're at work."

"Yeah, well... I'm busy." Angel shrugged.

"With?"

"School starts up again soon. I gotta make the most of my summer."

"Yeah, but what does that mean? What are you up to?"

"Nothing."

Jerry raised his eyebrows. "Okay."

"Well, what do you want to hear?" Angel began defensively. "I've got friends, Jer. It's like you think I should sit home and do nothing."

"Considering the trouble you start at home..."

"What trouble?"

Jerry laughed. "Like trying to scare Jack..."

"He's scared of his own shadow."

"You don't have to add to it... He's still new."

"So?"

"So? So Bobby's gonna kick your ass if you keep it up."

"I'm avoiding Bobby."

"No kidding. You think he doesn't notice?"

"He's never home for long anyway," Angel answered. "Then by the time he comes back again, he won't even remember."

"Is that what your plan is?"

Angel shrugged.

"Listen, Angel," Jerry responded. "I don't think Bobby's going away so quick this time."

"Why? Because of the kid?"

"Ma wants him around to help out."

"If she's so busy, then why did she agree to take in Jack?" Angel answered.

"She's not too busy for us... But it helps to have another set of hands around the house..." Jerry made a face. "Besides, I happen to like when Bobby's around."

"Because he doesn't boss you around. He saves all that for me."

"You seem to go out of your way to piss him off sometimes, Ang."

"Whatever. I have twenty minutes more of a lunch break, and this is what you wanna talk about?"

"You have to see him eventually. Just letting you know."

"I don't 'have' to do anything."

"You can't spend every minute with Sofie."

"Sure, I can."

"Listen, bro... We can talk in circles. But I basically came here to tell you this: snap out of whatever funk you're in. Stop pretending Bobby's the bad guy. He's-"

"I never said he was the bad guy."

"Not in words."

"I'm just tired of him acting like he's my father."

"He's not. He's your brother. Respect him."

"Whatever, dude. I'd rather just stay out of the way."

Jerry rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he repeated. He sighed. He wasn't going to start a fight. That wasn't the point of coming here to talk to him. "Just snap out of it," he said again, more gently this time. "And give Jack a break. He's a little kid."

"He and I get along better than you think."

"I hope so."

"Quit with the lecturing, Jer," Angel complained.

"Or what? You'll start avoiding me too?"

"Just shut up and eat."

Jerry laughed. "That I can do..."

Not so hard... Bobby was thinking as he watched the woman behind the desk in the administration office of the elementary school. Pamela. She reminded him of someone's grandmother, with a frumpy sweater, curly graying brown hair, and a shiny pin of an apple on her collar. She was making photocopies of the documents he bought. Fifteen minutes and it seemed they were close to done.

"What about classes?" he asked.

"Classes?" Pamela looked up from the copy machine and adjusted her glasses. "What do you mean?"

"Picking classes."

"Oh. Well... The classes are pretty standard at his age..." she began. "Unless there's some remedial classes that are needed, or honors, then it's a fairly consistent set of courses for the kids. Math, English, Science."

"But what about things like music?" Bobby asked. "He likes music."

"They will be exposed to music," she answered. She lifted the cover of the machine to place another document underneath.

"Yeah, but he really likes music."

She looked up and smiled. "Okay. I'll make a note in his file."

"Thanks." Bobby paused. "What about security?"

"Security?" She gathered the papers back into a pile, and then picked up the copies from the copy machine tray. She walked back over to the counter and handed the originals back to him. "Here you go."

"Security like... security," Bobby continued.

"The kids are safe here," she said. "We've never had any incidents. And there is constant supervision, so the altercations we have between the kids are minimal. We have a great record actually; especially compared to some other schools in the area."

"What about strangers coming onto the school property?"

She shook her head. "We have a closed campus. There are cameras. We also have two security guards during the day that patrol the grounds to ensure that there is no suspicious activity. We take the kids' safety very seriously."

"And what about someone coming to take the kids home early?"

"Only if we have your information on record can you leave the school with one of the children," she said. "We take our policies very seriously." She smiled. "You're a very concerned big brother, I can tell."

"Just want to make sure it's safe here for him. Thanks." Despite hearing answers that you would hope to hear, it was also expected. Bobby didn't find himself feeling at ease. He remembered attending the school, and the freedom he and his friends enjoyed, despite the school's pretention of otherwise. Then again, he'd been that kind of kid. Yet Jack was 'that kind of kid' too, in a way.

"I think we're all set." She smiled. "Can I meet the young man? You said he was just in the band room?"

"Sure," Bobby answered. "Yeah. Like I said, the kid loves music."

"We normally don't let kids in there unsupervised," she teased with a smile. "But from what I've been hearing, I'm sure he's taking very good care of our instruments."

Bobby hoped so. He walked out of the office with Pamela, and politely answered some of her questions about when he had gone to the school. It felt like ages and ages ago. Since when was he old? But it really felt like a different lifetime.

They reached the band room and walked into the room.

It appeared empty.

Fuck, Bobby thought to himself. Can this kid just not be trusted? His stomach turned briefly, and anxiety quickly mixed with annoyance. He took a deep breath. Don't jump to conclusions, he reminded himself.

"Jack," he said out loud. This is going to be embarrassing if he's not here, he thought, glancing at Pamela.

Fortunately, he did not have to worry. From behind a large book shelf, Jack suddenly appeared.

Thank God.

"Jack, this is Pamela," he said, gesturing to the woman next to him.

Jack eyed them both without much emotion.

"Hi, sweetheart," Pamela greeted. "Your brother told me all about you. I know you're going to love going to school here."

Jack eyed Bobby, as if wondering what 'all about you' meant.

"I'm sure he will... Well, we should get going," Bobby said, meeting Jack's eye. He could tell the kid felt uncomfortable with two pairs of eyes on him. "You ready to go, Jack?"

Jack nodded.

"Good. C'mon." Bobby motioned for him to come and started to walk out the door, Pamela at his side.

"It was nice meeting you," Pamela said. "School will be here before we know it."

Bobby smiled and shook her hand. As she headed back towards the office, he poked his head back into the band room. "Jack. Come on. Let's go."

Jack walked towards him slowly, glancing back at the room behind him, as though nervous he would never see the room again.

"Come on," Bobby persisted. "And were you hiding?"

"No." Jack frowned. He wasn't going to tell Bobby that he had been afraid because he felt like someone else was watching him. He would probably just make fun of him or get angry about it or tell him it was stupid.

"I thought I was going to have to fucking look for you," Bobby said, touching his shoulder as Jack reached him. Jack flinched from the contact. "Don't hide."

"I wasn't," Jack insisted.

"Okay." Bobby gently hit him with the folder of documents. "I have one more place we need to stop and then we can go home."

"Where else do we need to go?" Jack asked.

"Just a quick stop."

TBC...