Michael carried his tray through the lunchroom, feeling so tired. He was sick of this, sick of school. 10th grade wasn't any better than 9th had been. At least Jeff had graduated. Camille still didn't talk to him, but he could handle that. Hell, no one really talked to him.
He went to his usual table in the corner and plopped down his tray, then sat and stabbed at a limp green bean with his fork. Veronica had been the one who'd filled out the forms to get him free lunch, and he was grateful…but damn, the food was bad.
Still, better than nothing. Lincoln told him to eat at school, since it was paid for. "The more you eat there," he'd told him, "the less I have to buy groceries. It's a damn good deal."
He hated that they didn't have enough money to be able to get endless groceries. WIC helped with the food of course; they provided milk and cheese and cereal and juice for LJ…but most of that went to Lisa's house, not theirs. LJ was never hungry, but sometimes he and Lincoln were. It was just another one of those things that he couldn't change.
He knew Lincoln was considering selling for Crab again. Yeah, he'd sworn that he wouldn't to Michael…but Michael could see the signs. He could see his brother's desperation sometimes as he'd count his money on pay day. It didn't stretch far enough. Michael had told Lincoln today that they needed money for the rent and the electricity, and Lincoln had looked so frustrated. "We don't have enough for both," he'd said shortly, and Michael knew he'd have to stop at the dollar store on the way home from school to buy another box of candles. He hated it; his fear of the dark made it nearly unbearable, but as Lincoln had pointed out, "It's better to be indoors in the dark than on the street in the dark, ain't it?" And Michael had been forced to agree, however reluctantly.
Lincoln had gotten really pissed off when Michael had timidly suggested they ask Veronica to borrow some money, and so he knew that was out. He'd thought Lincoln might hit him; he'd looked that angry. "She's not our fucking piggy bank, Michael," he said. "We're just gonna have to deal with it."
Michael knew Lincoln could get money from Crab. But it terrified him, because if Lincoln got arrested…well, Michael had done his research. He could do up to 5 years, and Michael would be 19 before Lincoln got out. There was no way he could just "crash with Vee" for four years. He knew how the system worked well enough to know that he'd end up in foster care. And that couldn't happen. So Lincoln couldn't sell.
He sighed and took a bite of his sandwich. It was just another thing to worry about…and Michael knew that was all he could do. It wasn't like he could stop Lincoln.
And that was terrifying.
……..
"Michael. We gotta talk."
Michael looked up from the bills he'd been studying. "What?" he asked cautiously. His brother's tone made him nervous.
Lincoln shook his head and walked to the fridge. He grabbed a beer and opened it before walking to the table and taking a seat across from Michael. Michael just watched him. Lincoln was nervous, he could tell. So Michael hadn't done anything…but Linc probably had. Or was considering it. Michael swallowed, and watched his brother carefully.
"This money situation—" Lincoln said.
"I know. We can't pay the electric and the rent. I got a box of candles from the dollar store," Michael said. "They're on the counter." He gestured.
Lincoln didn't look. "I saw them," he said. "But I'd forgotten…we're gonna need heat too. It's starting to get cold out there."
"It's not even October yet," Michael said. "We can hold out a little longer."
"Not if LJ's here," Lincoln replied. "And Lisa got a new shift; he's gonna be here a lot. And we'll need electricity too, with him here. What if he knocked over a candle or something?"
"What do you want me to do about it, Lincoln? I'm not a magician; the money will only go so far." Michael was frustrated too. He couldn't fix this; he wasn't old enough to get a job yet. One more year; he was pretty sure he could work once he turned 15. But until then…he had nothing.
"Listen. I know I promised you—"
"No," Michael said. He knew at once what Lincoln was going to ask. "No way. Lincoln—"
"It's money, Mike. Way more than I can make otherwise. I already have two jobs; I can't take on another. But if I sold for him, I could quit the Safeway, and just work as a janitor. And we'd have enough."
"What if you get caught? Vee's not gonna take care of me for four year, Linc. You could end up doing five!"
"I wouldn't get caught," Lincoln said.
"Yeah, 'cause you know, your track record is so great. You get caught for everything!" Michael cried.
Lincoln snorted. "Hardly," he said.
Michael took a deep breath. He decided he didn't want to know. "Lincoln…"
"Mike, we need the fucking money," Lincoln said. He was fighting to keep his voice down.
"Yeah," Michael replied. "But LJ and I…we need you, you know? There's gotta be another way."
"Don't even suggest asking Vee," Lincoln said, his eyes narrowing. "I already told you—"
"I wasn't going to," Michael said. Which was true; Lincoln had been so mad last time he'd suggested it. "But maybe there's someone else who could borrow you some money…"
"And how the fuck would I pay it back, Michael?" Lincoln demanded. "My jobs barely make enough to pay rent and groceries and sometimes electricity; I'm not gonna be able to pay anyone back. Think, Michael! Use that fucking brain of yours!" Lincoln rose suddenly, and his chair slid back violently.
"I am," Michael replied. "You're the one who isn't thinking, Lincoln!"
"I'm not gonna get caught, Mike," Lincoln said. "It'll be fine."
"You promised, Lincoln!" Michael begged. "Please!"
Lincoln closed his eyes. "I know. But Michael…I can't take care of you and LJ without money. You've gotta be as sick of being cold and hungry as I am."
"If we're so broke, how come you still buy stuff from Derek?" Michael shot back. "I bet if you stopped that, we'd have more money."
Lincoln looked shocked for a moment, then he shook his head. "Not enough. We still wouldn't be able to—"
"Yeah, we would!" Michael said.
"Yeah, okay, maybe. But then I wouldn't be able to deal with my life!"
Michael froze. The honesty in Lincoln's voice when he said that took him completely off guard. He sat back in his chair, feeling as though he'd been hit.
"Michael…" Lincoln said. He sounded regretful.
Michael realized his mouth had dropped open at that. He shut it and let his chin drop to his chest with a sigh.
"All right," he said.
"All right?" Lincoln echoed.
Michael lifted his head and looked his brother in his eyes. "All right. Go ahead. Sell for Crab."
"Michael, I didn't mean that how it sounded," Lincoln said.
"Yeah, you did," Michael replied. He wasn't stupid; he could read raw honesty as well as anyone else. "It's alright. Just do it. But don't you dare get caught, Lincoln, or I swear to God...If I end up in foster care again, I'll never forgive you. You understand that?"
"Yeah," Lincoln said. "It's not gonna happen, Michael. I promise."
"Don't bother," Michael said. He was surprised by the bitterness in his own voice. "You promised you wouldn't sell for Crab again, didn't you? It doesn't mean shit." He pushed his chair out from the table and walked into the kitchen, to get a glass of water.
Lincoln moved too, reaching for Michael. Michael pulled away.
"Don't," he said.
"Michael," Lincoln pleaded. "I'm doing the best I can."
Michael sighed and stopped. He felt his brother's hand cautiously land on his shoulder, grip it gingerly, then more firmly when Michael didn't pull away. "You know I'm doing the best I can," Lincoln repeated, squeezing Michael's shoulder, like a distant hug.
"Yeah," Michael said. "Yeah, I know."
And the sad thing was, he did.
…….
"C'mon, LJ. We're gonna go take a picture with Santa," Michael said.
"I can't believe we're doing this," Lincoln grumbled.
"Shut up, Linc," Michael said quietly. "What do you want for Christmas?" he asked LJ, who he held in his arms.
LJ giggled. "Ninja Tuwtle!" he said, pumping his little fists in the air and nearly hitting Michael in his enthusiasm.
"Ninja Turtle, huh?" Michael asked. "Which one? Donatello? Raphael? Michaelagelo?"
"Michael!" LJ said with another grin.
"Great. All he wants for Christmas is you. That should be easy enough," Lincoln replied.
"Lincoln!" Michael said, turning his head away from his nephew. "Stop being such a shit."
"Christ," Lincoln said. "Role reversal?"
"Well, then stop acting like a teenager," Michael replied. He faced forward again, and stopped. "Oh, God."
The line for Santa was colossal.
"Fucking hell," Lincoln echoed. "We don't have to do this."
Michael swallowed. "I promised Lisa," he said. "She said she was going to mail a photo to her mom."
He heard Lincoln groan. "How about I just dress up as Santa and he takes a picture with me?" he suggested. "Her mom won't know the difference."
"Yeah, and where are you gonna get a Santa suit, Linc?" Michael asked, after considering it for a few seconds. "I don't think it's an option. We're gonna have to wait in line."
"This is ridiculous," Lincoln complained.
"Yeah, it is. But it's tradition. Come on."
Michael marched up to the line, followed by a reluctant Lincoln. "You know," Lincoln said, "there's a reason Lisa sent us on this mission. She didn't want to wait in line, and she knew you'd do it."
Michael had a sneaking suspicion that Lincoln was right, but he felt compelled to defend Lisa anyway. "She had to work, Lincoln," he said.
"She doesn't work tomorrow," he replied.
"Yeah, but she probably doesn't want to spend her one day off in line," Michael said.
"Oh, and I do?" Lincoln said.
"You have all kinds of days off," Michael said. "Since you don't work at the Safeway anymore."
"Just because I don't have a time clock doesn't mean I'm not busy, Michael," Lincoln said acidly. He patted his pocket absently, and Michael felt his heart jump.
"Lincoln, come on. Not with LJ here," he said.
"Relax, Michael," Lincoln replied. "I'm not an idiot."
Michael bit his lip.
"Daddy?" LJ said.
"Yeah, LJ?" Lincoln asked.
"Santa?" LJ sounded excited.
"Yeah," Lincoln said. Michael could tell he was trying to sound cheerful, and failing miserably. "Santa. You know what you want for Christmas, right buddy?" Lincoln reached out, and Michael handed LJ to him.
The little boy nodded. "Ninja Tuwtles!"
"Mommy got a TV, huh?" Lincoln asked. LJ nodded, and Lincoln sighed.
"Bet there's all kinds of things you want that Daddy can't afford," he said.
"Santa!" LJ said.
"Yeah, Santa," Lincoln said. "We'll see what he says about this."
The wait seemed to take forever. LJ ended up falling asleep on Lincoln's shoulder.
"Damn. He's even heavier when he falls asleep," Lincoln complained, shifting his son's weight.
"That's because he's not helping you out," Michael said. "We're almost there. You better wake him up so he doesn't have imprints from your jacket in his face in the pictures."
"Yeah. I'm sure Lisa would love that," Lincoln said. He shifted LJ's weight again. "Hey, LJ. Buddy, wake up. It's almost time to see Santa."
LJ blinked a few times and lifted his head off of his father's shoulder. "Santa?" he said.
"Yeah. Look, you're next," Michael said.
One of the photographers, dressed as an elf, came up to them. "Name?" she asked Michael.
"He's LJ," Michael said.
Lincoln handed LJ to Michael and dug out his wallet as the 'elf'' led him to Santa. The man held out his arms. "Hello, LJ," Santa said.
LJ's eyes were wide as Michael put him down on Santa's lap. "Santa?" he asked, looking at Michael for confirmation.
"Uh huh," Michael replied with a nod. "Tell him what you want for Christmas, LJ."
LJ stared at the Santa, and the man repeated, "What do you want for Christmas, LJ?"
"Ninja Tuwtle!" LJ said, and he sounded frustrated. Well, Michael mused, he had said it three times. He was probably sick of repeating himself. Michael bit back a smile.
"Ninja Turtle," Santa said. "I bet we can do that." He smiled at LJ. "Now, how about you smile for the camera?"
But LJ didn't smile. One of the elves held up a stuffed toy and shook it a little. "LJ!" she called.
LJ stuck out his lower lip. Michael heard Lincoln groan, and he knew why. LJ was not far from throwing a temper tantrum here.
"Here," Michael said. "Hey, LJ, I have a question for you."
LJ looked up at him, still frowning.
"Can you name the Ninja Turtles for me?" he asked. LJ knew the names of them all, and he loved to prove it to other people. "Come on. There's…"
"Donatewo, Michaelano, Rafel, and Lenado!" LJ said, and out came a big grin. Michael let out a sigh of relief.
"Hey, LJ," Lincoln called from near the camera. LJ looked towards his father's voice, and the camera snapped.
"All right!" one of the elves called enthusiastically. Santa handed LJ back to Michael, who carried him back out to where Lincoln was waiting.
"Good job," one of the elves said to him.
"Thanks," Michael said. "I've had some practice."
She smiled at him, and then went back to the line to collect the next kid. Lincoln clapped him on the back.
"Saves the day, huh, Mike?" he said.
"Thankfully," Michael replied. "Here. Take him. I'm gonna go get the photos."
Lincoln took LJ from Michael, who walked over to collect the photos from where they were printed. He thanked the 'elf' who handed them over in a clear envelope, and brought them back over to Lincoln.
"Not bad," he said.
"Yeah. He looks happy," Lincoln said, sounding surprised.
"Yep. Only we'll know the truth of how close we were to disaster," Michael said. He looked at LJ, and smiled slightly, shaking his head.
"He's asleep again," he said.
"I could tell," Lincoln replied, with a mock grunt.
"Let's go home," Michael said.
"Sounds like a plan."