Tran and Ashley were both in home room when Patrick arrived on Thursday morning. Tran at least looked at him, Ashley spotted him then quickly looked away, her face a picture of nervous indecision. Patrick guessed her mom had indeed concluded he must be Alex Jane's son – or at least had decided Ashley shouldn't be dating a boy in foster care who called his lawyer when he got detentions. He wandered over to Tran first.
"Hi Chi, No ISS yet? You not trying hard enough?" Patrick grinned.
Tran's lips quirked up. "You fixed it for me yesterday, remember, dude? Goole didn't have time to bust my ass because your shark was eating him up and spitting him out."
"Oh yeah, I think I remember that. We both got detention this afternoon though. How does that work?"
"You have to go to Barty's classroom at the end of the day, room 109."
"How long does it take?"
"You're there for an hour, man."
"But I can do homework, yeah?"
"If you want. I sleep."
"You're kidding me!"
"No, straight up. It drives Barty crazy sometimes, but the rule is you have to be quiet. Doesn't say anything about doing work."
"Don't you get in more trouble if you don't do the work?"
"I get in trouble if I do the work or not." Tran was sounding defensive. "I told you, Goole has it in for me."
Patrick shook his head. There was something going on there but he couldn't put his finger on it.
"You're more hardcore than me, Chi. I think I'll still do homework. I don't have anything better to do and one hour will be enough to finish it all. Then my whole evening is free afterwards to do what I want."
"Whatever, man."
Patrick nodded his goodbye then went to perch on Ashley's desk.
"Hey," he said quietly. "You okay? You seem a bit down."
"Patrick, is your dad called 'Alex'? Is he, well, are you in foster care because," here she lowered her voice to a whisper, "he's in prison?"
"Yes."
"Because my mom was in Sacramento yesterday and she said–"
"Ashley," Patrick interrupted, "yes. That was my dad. That's why I'm in care. He was on the TV news yesterday. I guess your mom's written something about it for the newspaper today."
"Yes she has! Did – did you know about it all along?"
"The first I heard about anything was a week ago when they arrested him and put me in care."
"But mom thought you must have wondered where all the money was coming from, even if you didn't know?"
Patrick shook his head wryly. "If we had any money he wouldn't have had to plead guilty. We live in a trailer. We work at a carnival. Getting rich might have been his plan but he didn't get very far."
"But the Governor said–"
"That's all just politics. Our lawyer made a deal, dad got less time in a lower security prison in return for pleading guilty and agreeing to everything the Governor wanted. On TV he made it sound like Dad was responsible for Black Monday or something. In the real world he filled in some forms wrong, our lawyer said."
"So you never saw any money?"
Patrick snorted a wry laugh. "My whole life I never even lived in a house. That fancy suit dad wore yesterday in court was the most expensive he ever had, twenty-five bucks from the Sacramento Goodwill store last week."
"Then why–"
"Ashley," Patrick interrupted again. "This isn't complicated. I'm the same guy today that I was yesterday. I still like libraries. I enjoyed going trick-or-treating with you and I thought you did too. I haven't changed overnight. I'm not saying Dad's innocent, I'm saying I didn't know anything about it beforehand. Either you believe me... or you don't."
Ashley looked away. Her mom had clearly told Ashley all about Alex, everything the judge and the Governor said about him, anyway, expecting Ashley to finish with Patrick because of it. It suddenly struck Patrick that Ashley wanted to believe him, not break up with him. That was encouraging, she was surely more likely to keep quiet about his dad if she liked him. Patrick had warmed to her over the last couple of days but his goal hadn't changed. Right now he needed to act if he wanted to minimize the gossip about him.
"I wanted to ask a favor," Patrick went on. "After I saw my dad on TV I remembered what you said, that your mom tells you all the news she hears about kids in this school. So I wanted to ask you, please don't tell anyone what your mom said about my dad. I don't want everyone here judging me because of him. Please." As he asked this Mrs. Bolton came in closely followed by Andy, so Ashley didn't have the chance to respond. Andy grinned a greeting as both he and Patrick sat at their desks.
It wasn't until the bell rang that Ashley was able to speak to Patrick alone while the classroom emptied around them. She blocked his way as he stood to go to class.
"Patrick, I promise I won't say anything to anyone about your dad," she said seriously without preamble, a determined look in her eyes. Patrick broke into a wide grin, seized her hand and kissed her.
"Thank you," he replied, letting his affection show on his face. This time she didn't blush at his attention, she simply stood in the middle of the classroom and beamed back at him.
"Ms. Smith, please can I have a word with you?" Patrick had arrived early for math.
"Sure, Patrick, if it's quick. What's this about?"
"Someone's arranging for me to do the test to move up to seventh grade math next week. How much of what we talked about last time would I have to cover to pass that test, ma'am?"
"All of it, I'm afraid, Patrick. Did you take a look through the extra text book I gave you?"
Patrick ignored her question. "What would happen if I didn't pass?"
"You'd stay in my class with the sixth graders." Smith looked a little puzzled, "but there's no reason–"
"Would you mind if that happened, ma'am?" Patrick cut in. "If I stayed in your class?"
"I'd like to keep teaching you, Patrick, very much," she smiled. "Any teacher would enjoy having someone as able as you in their class."
"Thank you, ma'am, that means a lot to me," Patrick replied, thinking how much better school would be if that were true. "I think I'd like you to be my math teacher." He returned her smile before he sat at a desk at the very front of the class. It wasn't until the class ended that he noticed Tran getting up from a desk at the back.
"Hey, you, Patrick Jane!" The industrial arts workshop was filling up though Mayer hadn't arrived yet. Patrick was sitting with Andy and Ashley when Rico came up to them, flanked by two jockabees.
"What is it, Rico?" Andy asked.
"I'm talking to little Janey here," Rico jerked his head in Patrick's direction. "Jane, that's a girl's name. Not sure if you're a guy or a girl, hey, Jane?"
Patrick had heard this kind of thing all his life, it didn't needle him any more.
"What do you want, Rico?" he asked mildly.
"Did you mess with my locker?"
"Man, that was an epic prank, I wish it was me," Patrick replied, sounding utterly sincere, his eyes steady on Rico as he said it. The boy flushed angrily.
"You were called up to see Goole yesterday morning."
"Yeah, you weren't the only one to get me a detention on Monday. I had to call my lawyer to sort out that mess." Patrick was enjoying the effect his cool manner was having on Rico.
"You're the kid who set his lawyer on Goole yesterday?" Rico couldn't stop himself, he looked surprised and sounded impressed, then looked angry with himself.
Patrick smiled smugly, noting how much it stoked the flames. "Everyone seems to think it's a big deal," he shrugged.
"Why do you think it was me got you that detention in art class?" Rico demanded, glancing at Andy.
Well that confession is a big clue, Patrick thought, but said, "I saw the sleeve of your yellow sweater out of the corner of my eye when you did it. But I'm no rat. I was trying to think of a way to get back at you when Prankmaster Jeneral got there first. There's no way I could top the locker thing so I decided he did that for all of us, like Batman or the Lone Ranger."
Rico went to take a step towards Patrick when suddenly Tran was in front of him, looking as ready for a fight as he always did. Patrick was again impressed at how quietly Tran could move and how much bigger he was than the rest of them.
"You lookin' for trouble again, Rico?" Tran murmured. Rico fell back so quickly he seemed to jump away from Tran, bumping into one of his henchmen. He shot them all a dirty look but could say no more as Mr. Mayer chose that moment to enter the classroom.
"Tran!" Mayer was at their workbench in an instant. "What's going on here?"
"Rico seemed to think I might be Prankmaster Jeneral, sir. He came over here to ask me about it," Patrick explained. Mayer turned to look at him.
"Why would he think that, Patrick?" Mayer had that shrewd, calculating expression on his face again.
"I was called to the Principal's office yesterday morning, sir, just after it happened. A few people have asked if it was because of the thing with Rico's locker."
Mayer's expression told Patrick that he accepted this explanation at face value, much to Patrick's relief. "Patrick didn't have to see the Principal because of your locker, Enrico," he said to the boy and Patrick inwardly rejoiced: Rico might not believe him but he clearly believed Mayer. "You need to go back to your workbench." Mayer watched Rico and his friends cross the room then turned back to Tran. "So why were you here with Enrico?" he asked.
"Chi didn't do anything, he's sitting with us at this bench today," Patrick volunteered.
"Let him speak for himself." Mayer's eyes didn't leave Tran.
"I'm sitting at this bench today Mr Mayer," Tran mumbled.
"You making more new friends, Patrick?" Mayer asked skeptically.
"You can't have too many friends, sir," Patrick replied earnestly.
Mayer looked at Andy and Ashley now. "I hope you two will be a positive influence on this pair rather than the other way around," Mayer warned before he moved away to start the class.
"What was all that about?" Patrick whispered to Tran at the first opportunity during the class.
"Me and Rico got a history. Like I said yesterday, the Lobos and the Crew. Mayer broke up a couple of fights last year, that's why he's so jumpy," Tran said casually.
"Well thanks for turning up when you did." Patrick hated violence, especially when it was directed against him. It sounded like Rico was more of a problem than he'd thought, the guy was prepared to tackle someone as big as Tran. Or maybe not: he'd brought a couple of jockabees and that was when he'd only been confronting Patrick. Rico clearly liked the odds stacked in his favor before he acted.
"Thanks for getting Mayer off my back, dude. Were you, uh, serious about, y'know, being friends?"
Patrick looked at Tran curiously. "Yeah, Chi. I'm new. I need to make friends. You do too from what you told me yesterday."
"Your other friends don't like me." Tran looked oddly shy as he glanced down the bench towards Ashley and Andy.
"You make them a bit nervous, that's all. If you chat like you did at lunch yesterday you'll be fine."
"What do I say?"
"You can always talk about what we're doing here, Chi," Patrick said with a smile. "Working together on a project is a good ice breaker."
The group of people Patrick increasingly thought of as the New Gang – himself, Andy, Ashley, Liss and Julia – had lunch together again. Liss told the story from yesterday about the magic trick and the wallet, Patrick gave a humorous account of the church party and Julia had more 'Mr. and Mrs.' jokes. Even Andy joined in, telling a short anecdote about basketball practice yesterday. Ashley was more subdued but Patrick was pleased, taking it as an indication of her good faith regarding gossip about his dad.
Science class was again dull, covering the ground he'd read for homework. Patrick sat with Ashley but spent most of the class watching Tran. The boy got out his book but only pretended to write down what the teacher was dictating to them, it was filled with doodles, not writing. Patrick felt again that he was missing something important, Tran seemed so determined not to learn even though he was equally determined to do what his mom wanted and stay in school. It didn't add up.
Patrick's last class that day, physical education, was track and field. Ashley was with the girls again, Andy was in a group of boys doing high jump and Tran was alone with something heavy at the far end of the field. Patrick joined the runners. He liked to run and more importantly liked to be able to run. Running had gotten him out of trouble more than once. This coach's warm-up routine was very different from the one he had learned at elementary school though Patrick thought it was better, once he had the hang of it. Let loose at last on the running track he settled into his natural pace for distance and simply kept going, in the pack but careful never to be in the lead.
Patrick was first to arrive at Barty's classroom. He opened the door and a teacher he had never seen before looked up from his desk.
"Mr. Barty? I'm here for detention, sir," Patrick began.
The man looked at him in astonishment. "What do you think you're doing, boy? You knock on the door, you don't barge in like that! Wait outside with the others until I call you."
Patrick thought, what the hell? But he said, "Sorry, sir," and went back outside.
"And close the door!" Barty yelled from inside. Patrick did so just as a girl arrived, followed by Tran and another boy. The girl seemed to be the oldest of them, tall and with the heavy black makeup Patrick was starting to associate with eighth grade girls. The boy looked younger than him, probably in sixth grade.
"Why do we have to wait out here?" Patrick asked Tran. In all the classes so far teachers had expected the kids to go straight into the classroom when they arrived.
"'Cos Barty's a prick," Tran shrugged. This made the girl snort with laughter. Tran rounded on her. "You laughing at me?" he demanded, hands bunched into fists at his sides as he advanced and she shrank back.
"Hey, Chi," Patrick intervened quickly, "what you said, that was funny, in a good way, witty, like a comedian on the TV. Her laughing, it's a compliment, dude!"
Chi turned to look at Patrick so he nodded encouragingly. "She was agreeing with you, not laughing at you."
Tran looked back at the girl, who was still looking scared. "You thought I told a joke?"
"Yes!" she nodded urgently. "I wasn't laughing at you."
Tran's posture subtly relaxed and Patrick started breathing again.
"Chi," Patrick began, sounding serious and putting his hand lightly on Tran's arm so he turned to face him again, "dude, you know you can't ever hit a girl, right?"
"I wasn't gonna hit her," Tran's eyes widened and he sounded surprised as he said it. He turned back to the girl. "I wasn't gonna hit you!" Tran finally stepped back from her.
"Okay, Chi, okay," Patrick soothed, "you weren't gonna hit her, I know you wouldn't do something like that but look at her, she doesn't know you, you scared her, she thought you might hit her for a moment there."
"Yeah," she managed, a certain amount of anger mixed with the relief flushing in her face now.
"I'm sorry." Tran even managed to make his apology sound aggressive. "I don't like people laughing at me."
"I was laughing at how you called that prick a prick," she clarified, jerking her chin towards the closed door of the classroom just as Barty opened it as if on cue. None of them could help it, Barty's sudden appearance at the same time as her unexpected cussing had them all laughing, even the boy who had taken no part in the proceedings.
"What's going on here?" Barty demanded.
Patrick straightened his face, looked Barty in the eye and replied, "Nothing, sir, the young lady told us a joke at the same time that you opened the door, that's all."
This got a him a startled look from the girl – Patrick guessed she'd never been described as a 'young lady' before, at least not by someone under the age of fifty – and Barty eyed them all suspiciously as Patrick's words resulted in more sniggering. Patrick could actually see the moment Barty decided to dismiss their laughter, after all nervous giggling was hardly unusual in teenagers. He barked "inside" at them and pointed out widely spaced desks for them to occupy.
Barty took the register then silence descended. Patrick spent the first thirty minutes completing all his homework then he looked around, bored. Barty had designated the seating to minimize the chances of interaction but Patrick could see both Tran and the girl from his seat. She was doing homework, Tran had his head down on his arms, eyes closed. Patrick turned around: the other boy was reading something.
"Eyes front!" Barty called from his desk.
"Sir, what–" Patrick began.
"Put your hand up if you want to talk to me," Barty interrupted, much to Patrick's annoyance. Nevertheless Patrick raised his hand.
"What–" he started again.
"You wait until I tell you to speak," Barty broke in again. Patrick sat with his hand raised, idly wondering if there was some kind of factory nearby that mass produced assholes. Perhaps instead they were hand-made by a suitably sour-faced local craftsman. Or, and this seemed the most likely reason to Patrick, Goole was trying to make himself look good in comparison to his teachers by hiring people who were bigger assholes than himself.
Barty made a show of looking around the classroom for a good long while before he looked back at Patrick.
"Yes?"
"What should I do now I finished my homework, sir?"
"You can check it over to make sure its correct."
"What should I do then, sir?"
"You can read quietly."
"And when I've finished my book?"
"You can sit quietly until the end of detention!"
There was some entertainment to be had in poking at Barty so Patrick waited two minutes then put up his hand again. Barty repeated his little pantomime look-around.
"Yes?" Barty said at last, sounding irritated.
"May I take a bathroom break, sir?" Now there was a faint sound in the room like someone – some people – trying not to laugh.
"Silence!" Barty raised his voice and glared around the room. Patrick's hand was still raised so he turned back to him.
"Yes!"
"I'm sorry, sir, but I still need a bathroom break." Patrick looked both contrite and serious. Barty gave him the hairy eyeball for a few moments but Patrick could out-stare a cat.
"The bathrooms are opposite this door," Barty grudgingly said as he stood. "I'm watching from here," he warned as he opened the door to the classroom.
"Thank you, sir," Patrick smiled as he passed Barty in the doorway, who looked pointedly at his watch.
Patrick estimated Barty would become suspicious about his absence in four to six minutes but would allow maybe ten minutes to pass before he was prepared to enter the boys bathroom to chase him out. Patrick whiled away the time by climbing onto the sinks and up to the high window to take a look. The window was barred and frosted, open as far as it could be, and the very limited view was of the dumpsters. He watched idly as the janitor appeared and inadvertently demonstrated the opening mechanism to his unseen audience, including how to deal with the second dumpster when its lid jammed. After eight minutes Patrick crept back to the door to listen. Barely half a minute later he heard Barty's surprisingly soft footsteps and yanked the bathroom door open just as the man reached it from the other side.
"Whoa, sir, you made me jump!" he exclaimed loudly, gratified to note that he had in fact made Barty jump by opening the door as quickly as he had. As he walked ahead of Barty back into the detention room he looked around at his fellow-detainees with a broad grin.
Five minutes later, to Patrick's glee, the boy who had been quiet outside the classroom put his hand up.
"Sir, I need a bathroom break now." Patrick wasn't the only one in the room to choke back his laugh. Barty shouted them all into silence.
"You'll just have to wait fifteen minutes, Casey, you can go after detention finishes."
Damn, Patrick thought, it would have been amusing to watch them all wind Barty up by trooping across the hall one after the other. Now the girl put up her hand then abruptly stood.
"Sir, I need a bathroom break."
"Sit down, Shannon," Barty replied wearily.
"No, sir," she continued to stand, "you don't understand, I need to go to the bathroom now." She dug a packet of something out of her bag that Patrick couldn't see but whatever it was made Barty blanch and recoil.
"Oh! Yes! Yes, go!" he replied, waving her to the door.
Patrick caught her triumphant grin as she left the classroom – Barty didn't watch her from the doorway, he noticed, in fact he avoided looking at her at all.
Patrick was playing with his trick coins in his left hand and thinking he had never been so bored in his life when he heard a faint sound. He glanced over to Tran when he heard it again. Yes, Tran had fallen asleep, really asleep not pretending, his breathing deep and regular and starting to turn into gentle snoring. Patrick yet again started contemplating why Tran hadn't even attempted to do any homework, why the thought that someone was laughing at him came so readily to his mind, why Barty hadn't objected to him resting his head on the desk and what Barty would do when he noticed Tran's snores. Patrick turned his attention to Barty.
He thought the man had just heard the snoring when Shannon came back into the room, disturbing the quiet. It must have disturbed Tran a little too, as when silence descended once more it was truly silent for a minute or so. Then to Patrick's delight there it was again, Tran's soft snoring had resumed. Patrick watched Barty and was rewarded just moments later when the man clearly heard a snore. Barty's eyes flew to Tran. Patrick just had time to drop his own eyes to the book in front of him as the man looked around the classroom. When Patrick ventured another glance at Barty the man was again doing whatever he'd been working on throughout the detention. He didn't care that Tran was asleep, or wasn't prepared to do anything about it. Well that was an anticlimax.
The last few minutes of the detention dragged out. Finally Barty was telling them all to pack their bags and go home.
"Hey Chi, you catching a bus now?" Patrick began as they walked out.
"Yeah, one into the bus station in town then another out to the group home."
"I'm going into the city too, to the library. You wanna come?"
"No way, man!" There was something in the way Tran said it that clicked in Patrick's head. Tran's mom couldn't read or write, he's said she was learning in prison. Tran didn't write down what the teachers said although they dictated the notes very slowly. He didn't do homework, not even when given ample time during detention.
"You can't read, can you, Chi?" Patrick's tone was curious rather than mocking so he was unprepared for what happened next. Tran grabbed Patrick by his jacket and slammed him back into the bank of lockers that lined this part of the hall with a loud echoing boom.
"Who told you I can't read? You think it's funny?"
Instinctively Patrick cringed, "No! Please! You don't want to hit me!" That seemed to be surprising enough for Tran to pause so Patrick continued, talking rapidly. "Barty will be along any second, we just made a hell of a noise, he'll give you ISS for sure if he catches you. This is just a misunderstanding, Chi, you don't want to get more ISS over a mistake."
Tran released Patrick just in time. Barty moved into view as Patrick was still stumbling away from the side of the hall.
"What's all this noise?" Barty demanded. Patrick put on his most innocent face.
"Noise? When I swung my bag over my shoulder I overbalanced a bit, Mr. Barty, and bumped into the lockers. I guess it was kinda loud." Barty eyed them both suspiciously but Tran said nothing and Patrick, still wide-eyed, asked, "Was there something else you wanted, sir?"
"Go home, both of you!" Barty snapped, then followed them to the exit. Once outside they continued walking in silence towards the bus stop as Barty peeled off and headed towards his car.
All this time Patrick was thinking. Tran was a big guy with a hair-trigger temper. Patrick didn't want to get his own back for what just happened, he'd been scared but Tran hadn't actually hurt him, his bag had cushioned the blow. Normally Patrick would avoid him at all costs from now on but Tran didn't have any friends and that made him... malleable. Tran was a loose cannon – but Patrick thought maybe he could turn Tran into something else.
Angela had been right a week ago, Patrick did make people angry enough to want to beat him up, he didn't even know he was doing it sometimes and they weren't always as easy to distract as Tran. If his first week of school had taught him anything it was that he couldn't help being himself at least some of the time. If he could turn Tran into a loyal henchman it would definitely improve his odds when – not if – he irked Rico or someone like him. It was worth a shot.
Also Patrick felt a little sorry for Tran. The boy went about things the wrong way but it seemed to Patrick he could be taught better ways. He was sure Tran was so suspicious of people because he couldn't read. Hell, just finding your way around school was really hard if you couldn't read building names or signposts. If he couldn't read, Patrick mused, it would feel as though everyone else was keeping him in the dark. No wonder he was angry all the time.
"I'm really sorry, Chi," Patrick began cautiously, watching him carefully so he would have some kind of chance to flee if he said the wrong thing again. "I wasn't laughing at you. Reading, that's my thing, I enjoy libraries and reading, it's what I do, like Andy Williams does basketball. I don't laugh at Andy because he's more into basketball than reading. I think not being able to read must be horrible, I don't think it's funny. I wasn't laughing at you."
Tran turned, misery suffusing his features. "Did I hurt you, man? Jeez, I'm sorry I got mad. This is so messed up!" Tran was tugging at his own hair in distress as he said this.
"Hey, Chi, it's okay, its cool." Patrick put his hand on Tran's arm again to calm him, get his attention. "You didn't hurt me. Why did you think I was laughing at you?"
"Because that's what the other kids from the home used to do. They'd give me the TV guide and ask what was next just so they could laugh at me or get me into trouble. They said I was stupid."
Patrick had a very good idea why those kids didn't do that any more but he said, "I don't think you're stupid, Chi, I think you're a witty guy. Can you read Vietnamese?"
"Nah, man. Mom isn't much of a reader in any language and grandma died when I was little."
"Did you go to elementary school?"
"Yeah I went, Mom made me go. They always used the same books to teach reading. I learned to say the right words for the pictures on the page and they thought I was learning to read. I copied out letters and they thought I was learning to write."
That was interesting. The problem wasn't that Tran hadn't been given the opportunity to learn. He'd have to do some research in the library about that. "What's your thing, then, Chi, what do you like to do? You got a favourite sports team or TV show or something?"
"I like video games. They have a NES at the group home. Best thing about that place," Tran added with a smile.
"What's a NES?"
"It's a console, man, Nintendo! Super Mario Brothers and Donkey Kong!"
"See, now I feel stupid. I never played any of those. I've seen Donkey Kong at the arcade."
"At the arcade I like Star Wars, I can do it to the end more than once on a single quarter, I usually get the high score. You ever played it? Vector graphics like in the movie when he blows up the Death Star."
"I liked the movies but I never played the video game."
"I like the movies too, man, but playing the game is like being in the movie, the part where he's flying the X-wing at the end."
"That's pretty cool."
"Yeah. You'll have to come with me to the arcade some time, I'll show it to you."
"You going there now, Chi?"
"Don't you have to go to the library?"
"I was going there for fun, like I said, reading's my thing, but I can go there any time. Right now I'd like to go to the arcade with you instead, if you want to show me Star Wars."
"Yeah man!" Tran grinned with delight. He went on to talk about video games and how to play them for the whole bus ride, though it was pretty much incomprehensible to Patrick.
The arcade turned out to be even closer to the bus station than the city library. The Star Wars machine was occupied when they arrived so Tran left his quarter above the buttons to indicate he was next before starting to play another machine while they waited. Either Tran was pretty good or not many people had played it today as he made it onto the high score table, though he simply hit the button repeatedly until 'AAA' appeared in the list against his score. The kid playing Star Wars was down to his last life by then so they joined the people watching around that machine.
"If you like, if you don't mind, I can put your name into the high score table at the end," Patrick whispered to Tran. "Your name will fit, 'Chi', three letters, you can tell the world that was your score. Tell everyone who passes this machine, anyway."
"Okay, if you like." Tran tried to sound casual but Patrick's suggestion had put a smile on his face.
Tran was good at Star Wars. When the TIE fighters stopped shooting at him for a moment Patrick said so and was rewarded with another grin from Tran. After the Death Star exploded he said, "You make it look so easy, dude!" and got a quick "Thanks, man!" in return as Patrick surreptitiously started a little round of applause going in the now much larger crowd around the machine. Tran looked around, beaming, before the game started again.
Tran played it through two and a half times before he lost his final life, making it onto the top of the high score table. Patrick started everyone clapping and cheering, got Tran to turn around, then quickly entered 'CHI' as the name while Tran basked in the applause. He didn't want to humiliate the boy, after all. When he'd finished and the high scores were glowing on the screen with Tran's name at the top Patrick shamelessly worked the audience with a loud 'let's hear it for Chi, everyone!' clapping his hands to encourage it as long as he could.
When it died down and the crowd started to disperse Patrick checked the time before turning to Tran.
"I have to go get my bus. You staying here, Chi?"
"Nah. I'll go to the bus station too." They headed out together. "Man, today was the best day ever!" Tran continued. "It wasn't my highest score but it was the best crowd that I ever had!"
"You're really good at that game."
"Next time you gotta play, you can use my first life, see how far you get."
"Yeah, if you say so, but you're not allowed to laugh when I get blown up in two seconds."
When they got to the bus station Patrick's bus was just pulling in at the stop.
"Hey, dude, thanks," Tran began as Patrick waited for the passengers to get off. "I mean for everything. For being cool and not ratting me out to Barty and coming to the arcade with me. I'm –I'm sorry I got mad."
"That's okay, Chi. Thanks for spooking Rico in Mayer's class. You just need to chill, that's all. Not everyone's laughing at you all the time. Sometimes laughing is good, even, like the girl outside detention today."
"So we're cool, yeah? I like you. You're the first kid who wasn't afraid to talk to me. I'd like us to be cool."
"Sure. Like I said to Mayer, you can't have too many friends."
"Friends." There was Tran's surprisingly shy smile. "I didn't think you meant that before."
Patrick paused for a moment then continued, "Chi, if you ever, y'know, want to try reading again, I'd be happy to help out. You don't have to," Patrick added quickly, "but it's like I said, reading's my thing, what I do for fun. You said I could have your first life on Star Wars next time we visit the arcade so I thought you could try reading with me, if you want. I bet you'd be better at reading than I am at Star Wars," Patrick added with a grin.
"I don't think I'll ever read," Tran mumbled.
"It'd be cool if you could, though," Patrick replied. "Everything's easier if you can read, even little things like road signs, bus destinations, stuff like that. Staying at school like your mom said, staying out of trouble at school, it would all be easier."
"Yeah..."
Patrick could see Tran was thinking about it so he didn't push things. "I'll see you tomorrow, Chi," he waved as he got on his bus.
"You're very late, Patrick," Sally was looking tired when Patrick got back to the Brodie's house. It was after sunset, though the sky was still pale in the west.
"I'm sorry, Mrs Brodie, after detention I went with a guy called Chi to the arcade near the bus station. Chi's in foster care too, group home. He doesn't have any friends."
"You should have come straight home after detention, Patrick."
At the word 'home' Patrick's thoughts flew to Stoney Ridge. He realized with a pang that Katy and Mick would have gotten married today at the courthouse. He wondered how the set up was going for their party on Saturday.
"I'd like to go home." The words slipped out before he could stop them so he added, "Mrs. Brodie, am I allowed to go over there tonight? To Stoney Ridge?"
"You're home late from a detention because you were out enjoying yourself at the amusement arcade and now you think it's okay to go out with your friends again tonight? No, Patrick. You're grounded this evening." Sally looked determined.
Patrick was astonished, he hadn't been expecting anything like this. "But I did their detention! I've already been punished for what happened at school!"
"It's not much of a punishment when your lawyer found some loophole to get most of your detentions cancelled! When you go to the arcade afterwards as though nothing happened! A detention is supposed to be an opportunity to reflect on your behavior. You're not going to make me change my mind about this, Patrick. You don't get rewarded for attending a detention."
Rewarded? What the hell? Hanging out with Tran wasn't a reward, it was contingency planning with the added possibility of violence. Going home wasn't a reward, it was home. It occurred to Patrick that Sally thought of her house as his home, she thought of herself and William as his substitute family. Patrick shook his head in disbelief.
"I should have let you call the Sheriff last week, at least in juvie they don't pretend It's not a prison!" Patrick realized he had shouted this and turned away from Sally's shocked expression.
"Where are you going? Dinner's on the table!"
"I'm not hungry. I'm gonna be in my room. Or do I need permission even for that?" Patrick didn't wait for a response and didn't stop until he'd slammed his door.
It was nearly nine when there was a knock on the door to Patrick's room. After a moment Patrick heard William Brodie speaking.
"You don't have to talk to me this evening, Patrick, but we do have to talk." William had just turned away when he heard the door being opened behind him. Patrick was in his pajamas and dressing gown. "I'm sorry, Patrick," William began, "I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't wake me." Patrick's tone was expressionless.
"I, uh, thought you might be hungry by now." William was holding a plate containing a sandwich and a glass of milk.
"Can we take this downstairs, sir?" Patrick asked. William nodded.
William leaned against the counter in silence as Patrick sat at the kitchen table and wolfed down the sandwich as if he hadn't eaten in days, then polished off the milk in one go, leaving a milk moustache that made him look even younger than usual. When he'd finished he raised his eyes to William.
"You throwing me out, Mr. Brodie, getting Ms. Lazczyck to move me somewhere else?"
"For shouting at Sally? No, Patrick, we're both used to being shouted at by teenagers. You should hear Melissa when she gets going," William added with the merest hint of a smile. "Could you tell me why you shouted?"
"Your wife told me I couldn't go home. I didn't realize being allowed to visit home was a reward for good behavior. Mr. Taylor thought I could visit whenever I wanted, you said I could. Then suddenly because I got a detention I wasn't allowed to go home." Patrick's voice cracked a little on the word 'home' and he looked away, blinking.
"Stoney Ridge?"
Patrick shook his head, took a deep breath. "The carnival. I've moved around all my life, sir. Home isn't a place, it's wherever my kind of people are."
"This is supposed to be your home for now, Patrick, while your dad's in jail."
Patrick shook his head again. "Home is full of people you trust," he replied flatly.
"You really thought we'd ask Stella to find you another foster family because you shouted at Sally?"
"You said yourself, if you thought I committed a crime you'd call the cops. Why not get the CPS to move me if I cause trouble here?"
"We want to be your foster parents, Patrick. If I did call the Sheriff we'd still support you through court, come visit you in Juvenile Hall." William said it so earnestly Patrick couldn't help but grin. The man honestly thought that was a comforting thing to say. Well at least Patrick had a clearer idea of where he stood. William visibly relaxed at the sight of Patrick's smile. "You trust your friends at the carnival?"
"With my life," Patrick replied automatically, then, grinning at William again, "not with my wallet." William snorted a laugh of his own as the tension between them eased. "Mr. Brodie, am I allowed… Please will you let me go to a wedding party up at Stoney Ridge on Saturday? Katy Barsocky got married at the courthouse today, if I hadn't rented out our RV she would have had to wait until April. I've known her family my whole life, Dad asked the Barsockys to look after me when he was arrested. It'll get going around noon, I could make it back in time for dinner on Sunday."
"A two-day party?"
"Probably longer, sir. People will be coming from all over, but I can get away early so I'm back in time for Sunday dinner here. Please, sir," Patrick added as William hesitated, "it's important that I go, because dad can't."
"Where will you stay?"
Patrick blinked. "At the Ruskin house. I can even give you their telephone number." William seemed to take that at face value.
"I don't think I can refuse, then, Patrick. You can go to this wedding party at the weekend – on one condition. You have to tell me what's going on. I've only been away on business for three days but it seems a lot has been happening here. Trick-or-treating? A girlfriend? A message from the Principal's office about detentions? Epelslang? I just got off the phone with that lawyer Mr. Taylor, he wants me to let you play poker with him. What's going on, Patrick?"
Patrick wiped away the milk from his face with the back of his hand.
"Did you say I could, Mr Brodie? Play Mr. Taylor at poker, I mean." Patrick's look was one of wary hope.
"I told Taylor I wasn't agreeing to anything. What's going on, Patrick?" William asked again.
"You're gonna have to be more specific, sir. Everything you just said is normal life for me."
"Lets start with the gambling. You're thirteen, that's way too young to be gambling."
"I've been playing poker with my friends up at Stoney Ridge for years, sir," Patrick began matter-of-factly. "You might not approve of me playing cards but I'm not going to stop. Being good at cards is important for the act and the act is how we earn our living, Mr. Brodie."
There it was, the point in a conversation with Patrick where William was lost for words. He had been unimpressed by Patrick's defiance, about to chip in before being utterly derailed by the mention of his livelihood. Patrick, who had been watching him closely, lifted a pack of cards out of his dressing gown pocket.
"Play me at snap, sir. You shuffle and deal. Let me show you."
William's curiosity overrode his objections. Snap? He took the pack, shuffled it quickly then dealt out all the cards between them. He let Patrick go first.
"Snap," the boy said calmly after a moment, just as William was turning over his card. When he did so there was another seven, matching the one Patrick had just played. Six cards later he said it again, looking into William's eyes rather than at the cards as he laid his own two of diamonds on top of the two of clubs that William had just exposed. Then again, and again, calling 'snap' before he saw the matching card every time until the whole pack lay face up on the pile between them.
"We're playing with a marked deck?" William asked, his voice radiating opprobrium.
Patrick shook his head. "That would be cheating. I memorized the order of the cards."
"I shuffled them," William replied with a shake of his head.
"No sir, you just cut them five times. Serious card players shuffle by interlacing which ruins this trick but most people shuffle like you did. The sequence was still mostly intact when you dealt them out. Whenever a card was exposed that wasn't what I expected it just reset the sequence, I still knew what the next card would be."
"Oh," William replied weakly, astonished the boy could remember the exact order of all the cards in a pack.
"It is still a trick, snap with two players is the best game for this trick because each card is exposed in turn, which makes it as easy as possible to follow the sequences. So you set up a table, attract a crowd, pick a member of the audience to play snap, do the trick, get the applause and show the hat around, hoping like hell it's dollars not quarters going into the hat. Mostly it's quarters, 'cos most adults think a kid only needs to earn pocket money. Then you do it all over again, and again. Do it too fast and people aren't entertained enough to pay up, too slow and no matter how entertaining you are you won't have earned enough by the end of the day to cover your costs." Patrick watched William's face closely as he explained. He wasn't exactly lying to William. He hadn't done anything like that recently, they made more money with the Boy Wonder act these days, but it had been true when he was younger. Although his little magic act had been created to draw the crowd to his dad's show he'd also been tasked with making money from it.
William was rather taken aback. Patrick was never this chatty.
"I need to play cards, Mr. Brodie. There's plenty of things you stop being good at when you stop practicing, cards is one of them. I thought you'd prefer me playing Taylor because he's less shady than – than most of the adults I play at cards."
"But poker–"
"It's not about the gambling, Mr. Brodie. Well, not just about the gambling. Imagine you met someone new, say a new guy started where you work and you got along well, you wanted to get to know him better. You'd go with him to a bar after work to drink and chat, or invite him and his wife round for dinner or something like that, yeah?"
"Okay..." William wasn't sure where this was going.
"If I want to get to know someone my age I might invite her to come trick-or-treating with me. Your wife seemed to get on pretty well with Ashley yesterday," Patrick added nonchalantly.
"Okay..." William repeated. He wanted to find out all about her, too, but he didn't let Patrick distract him.
"What can I do if the person I'd like to get to know is old enough to be my granddad? I couldn't invite Mr. Taylor to go trick-or-treating," he said with a wide grin, imagining the dapper lawyer with a sheet over his head, pretending to be a ghost.
William was nonplussed. "You're making friends?"
Patrick shrugged and nodded. "We both like to play poker. I imagine Mr. Taylor and I will play for pennies and nickels or for tokens or something because I don't have any money. Playing cards gives us both a reason to hang out and chat. I also get to keep up to speed at cards without getting into... trouble. I was telling the truth, sir, there are some shady gamblers back home."
"So you're telling me gambling with Taylor will keep you out of trouble?"
"It's a win for everybody!" Patrick beamed at him.
I'm coming along."
Patrick looked surprised. "I didn't think you were a gambling man, sir."
"I'm not, but I'm also not comfortable with you going alone to the house of a strange adult to play poker."
"You think he's... sketchy? I don't think so, sir." Patrick was suddenly very thoughtful. "He doesn't... Although he's good at... No, I'm pretty sure he's on the level but I don't mind you coming along, Mr. Brodie, if it means I'm allowed to go," Patrick beamed. "I expect Mr. Taylor will be okay with it too. Or would you find it more reassuring to just turn up unannounced and see what his reaction is?"
William had expected Patrick to object to having a chaperone. It was disconcerting to see him not only fail to object but also to see him thinking so thoroughly and seriously about a man he claimed to want as a friend.
"He doesn't...?" Brodie wanted to understand Patrick's thoughts.
"He doesn't watch kids like a sketchy guy. When he looks at a kid at all it's more like a parent."
"How do you know how a – a sketchy guy watches kids?"
"My dad's good at spotting sketchy guys at the carnival, I picked up a lot from him. Parents are interested in kids but distracted at the same time. Sketchy guys are just interested. A parent's body language is very different from a sketchy guy. Mostly. One time I thought this guy was sketchy, turned out some kid stole his smokes. He was looking for that kid and really needed a cigarette at the same time. As soon as he was able to light up, well, he didn't look sketchy any more."
"Then you said Taylor's good at...?"
"He's a very good poker player, good at bluffing, so he could be good at hiding that he's sketchy. Though dad probably would have said something when we saw him at County if he thought…" Patrick's voice trailed off then he grinned. "Does this mean you'll be taking me to play poker at Mr. Taylor's?"
"I guess it does. It seems I need to call him back."
"Can I call my friend Angela on the phone before you call Mr. Taylor? Then I'll–" Patrick stopped abruptly.
"Is Angela your girlfriend?"
"No sir, she's my best friend from home. She lives in the house when the carnival's at Stoney Ridge. They have a phone.
"Then you'll...?"
Patrick looked sheepish. "I need to unpack."
"But..." William gestured to Patrick's dressing gown and pajamas.
"I, uh, thought that if I was ready for bed then you'd think twice about throwing me out tonight."
"Dear God." William shook his head slowly. "I hope you now know that we aren't going to do that, Patrick. Does this mean you do want to stay with us?"
Patrick shrugged but grinned. "I guess so. Mr. Brodie."