After the Episode: Dan's Big Race
Author's Note: I ruminated on this one for awhile because I found this episode to be great, but difficult. Like really Schemee? That's a new low. But I do like parent-Schemer, and I feel like parent-Schemer and goofy station-Schemer are two different entities. So I hope you enjoy what I did with it!
"Schemer, can I speak with you for a moment?" Barton asked as he approached Schemer outside the station. Everyone else was inside, it was just the two of them alone outside.
Schemer was standing towards the back of the building, leaning with one leg propped up against the wall behind him. He lowered the cigarette from his lips and let it hang by his side, gesturing for Barton to speak.
"Cigarettes? Since when did you take up smoking?" Barton asked, sounding unsurprised but doing little to conceal his judgement.
Schemer had smoked on and off since he was younger than the legal age, but rarely did it these days unless he was feeling deeply stressed. And his nephew's disturbing actions that day had certainly triggered the urge. But he didn't want to tell Barton that. He didn't want to tell Barton much of anything; they co-existed in relative peace but Schemer knew how little Barton thought of him.
He took a final drag before flicking it away smoothly and exhaling away from Barton. "What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked simply.
Schemee exited the station not much later, looking around for his uncle. He knew he was in trouble, Stacy and Billy had given him a stern talking to while his uncle had stepped out. However, they needed to leave and he needed to face whatever punishment his uncle had planned.
He saw Barton get into his old truck, giving him an unimpressed look as he drove off. Schemee looked away, frowning. He supposed he deserved it, and would have to get used to the judgement. Schemer turned the corner from around the side, white faced and walking tensely towards him, but not really noticing him.
"Uncle Schemer?" he asked worriedly. His uncle's expression was downright stormy but as he heard Schemee's voice he did a double take. It was as if Schemee wasn't really the target of his apparent mood.
"Oh, uh, hi Schemee. Er, could I get you to head over to your grandmother's house? Something came up, I need to take care of some things here," he said simply, keeping a neutral tone.
Schemee quirked an eyebrow. Far be it from him to draw attention to the fact that Schemer had yet to officially punish him, but this was unusual. His uncle seemed distracted and on edge, but he still wasn't sure if it was at him or not. Perhaps he was too disappointed to deal with him but usually Schemer was more reactive and less contemplative with these types of situations.
"Um, sure? Do you need any help here?" Schemee asked, wondering if maybe offering his assistance could buy him some good will.
Schemer seemed to snap out of whatever state he was in for a moment. "Ah, no. But hurry over there and make sure you walk your bike. If I catch even one hint of you riding it your punishment will be doubled," he grumbled.
There it was. So he was mad about that still but Schemee was convinced there was something else going on. No matter though, he didn't want to make it worse for himself.
"I promise, I'll see you over there later tonight then?" Schemee asked but Schemer was already walking away towards the station.
"Yup, see you later," Schemer called behind his back, distracted once again by something else.
It was around 8 pm when Stacy's home phone rang.
"Hello?" she asked, fighting the urge to follow up with 'Stacy Jones speaking'.
"Hi Stacy, it's Mary calling. Horace's mother."
This surprised Stacy. Of all the people who might be calling her this late that wasn't who she would have guessed. "Oh, Mrs. Schemer, how can I help you?"
"I'm sorry to bother you so late Stacy, and I'm sure it's nothing, but have you seen Horace recently?"
Stacy frowned. "Not since before I left work for the day. Is something wrong?"
"Like I said, I'm sure it's nothing, but Schemee is here with me because Horace sent him to my place saying he had work to do. But it's later than he would usually work and we haven't heard from him. We tried calling the station phones but the arcade is giving a busy signal and the main desk keeps ringing. Schemee is worried and mentioned he seemed upset, and, well, he told me what happened today so I'm sure he's ruminating over it. But no matter, I just wanted to check with you but I'll keep calling around."
Something about this didn't sit right with Stacy. "Let me go down to the station, if he's there I'll have him call you immediately."
"Oh no Stacy, I couldn't ask that of you. I could go do that myself as well."
She shook her head despite Mrs. Schemer not being able to see it. "No, no. It's no trouble, and if a staff member is still there this late it's my responsibility to make sure they get home safely. Consider it just me doing my job, as well as helping a friend."
"You're too kind, thank you Stacy. Give him heck for me, will you?"
Stacy smiled, still feeling a bit nervous but certain all was well. "I will, and if you don't hear right away just assume I'm talking to him. There's some work related things I could bug him about and I'll let him know to call as soon as possible. But if he's not there I will call back right away."
They bid each other farewell and hung up. Stacy let her hand linger on the receiver. Like Mrs. Schemer said it was probably fine. Nonetheless, she had a duty to do so she grabbed her purse and quickly headed towards the station.
Pulling up she noticed two things. One was that his car was still there, and the other was that the lights were still all on. She breathed a sigh of relief, she could at least get him to report to his mother and put her and Schemee out of their worry.
As she entered she didn't immediately see or hear anyone, which concerned her. He wasn't standing at the arcade, but maybe he was retrieving supplies from the storage shed. She dropped her purse and began to enter the main foyer. "Schemer? Are you here?" she called.
She heard a yelp from the arcade, as if someone was startled, and he flew to his feet suddenly. Looking panicked he gripped the jukebox and turned to face her. "Ms. Jones?!"
"Hiya Schemer," she asked cheerfully, "Everything okay?"
He didn't answer her immediately and instead turned to face away from her, retrieving a comb and mirror from his pocket.
"Of course, why wouldn't it be?" he asked, smoothing his hair, remaining faced just away from her so that she couldn't see his whole face.
"Well, your mother called me saying that she hadn't heard from you. And that she was trying to get ahold of you at the station but wasn't getting through. Schemee was worried so I offered to come check in and make sure you were safe," she explained, trying to catch his eye.
She noticed the arcade phone was off the hook. With a sigh she walked up and hung it back up. "Well that's why the line was busy. But didn't you hear them calling the main phone?"
He avoided eye contact and side stepped her. "I guess not, I was caught up in my work," he said lamely.
Something about his voice bothered her. It sounded dispirited and yet strangely numb. She wondered if he was taking today's events personally, but it wasn't like him to hide at the station and avoid addressing it with Schemee.
"Well, if you're working do you mind if I ask you some work related questions?" she offered.
He shrugged and pulled out the coin collection box from one of his machines, counting them out slowly. "Sure."
"Next week there's a few days that won't have the morning trains running until 10 am. If you want to come in early for your arcade you're welcome to, but just let me know so that I know you're opening. Sound good?"
"Yeah, what days?" he asked dully.
"Tuesday and Thursday. Feel free to think about it but let me know by tomorrow preferably."
She paused, watching him. She noticed that his hands were shaking, and while he was going through the motion of counting he didn't appear to be really tallying anything. Just moving coins slowly between stacks.
"Are you alright?" she asked point blank.
He froze but nodded a little too vigorously. "Tuesday is good, Thursdays are quiet so I'll come in for the first train."
"Schemer?" she asked worriedly, and reached out to touch his arm lightly. At the contact he startled badly and jerked back, sending the coins scattering.
"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, equally startled by his outburst, and immediately knelt down to help him pick them up. He was already at the ground before her but as they reached for the same coin he looked up to face her and her heart broke. His face carried a look of absolute devastation and his eyes carried so much emotion that she swore she could feel the pain through them.
As if alarmed at being discovered he leaned back on his heels and looked down at the ground. He let the coins in his hands fall to join the others and she reached out to clasp it, hoping it would be okay to do so. He didn't pull away but he didn't want to look at her either.
"Schemer, what is it?" she asked gently, hoping he would open up.
"It's nothing," he said in a faraway voice.
"It's not nothing, look, I am fine with sitting here with you all night but I really would like you to call your mother back. Both her and Schemee worried about you."
He exhaled heavily, and looked back up to her, saying nothing.
"I can do it for you, if you'd like. But you'd have to give me something to tell them. Like when you'll be back to pick up Schemee, or if he should stay the night, just anything," she offered.
At the mention of Schemee's name his eyes watered and he gently pulled his hand back, pushing his fist against his mouth.
"Oh no, listen, it's okay. I know today was upsetting but we will get through this. It's going to be alright."
He took several deep shuddering breaths and got onto one knee, letting his arms rest heavily on it. "I can't go on like this," he said painfully.
Stacy froze, dread creeping into her heart. "What do you mean by that?"
"I'm a terrible guardian for him, if he stays with me he's going to keep getting into trouble," he said remorsefully.
"No one blames you for today, oh goodness, no. It's regrettable but I have no doubt you're going to handle it appropriately. It's happened, it's in the past, and we'll have to move forward from it," she said with a sorrowful sigh.
It was difficult for both of them; for her because she watched her own nephew get hurt by the actions of Schemer's nephew, and for Schemer because he watched his nephew stoop to a low point to win a race. As much as she was aggrieved by Schemee's action and admittedly felt some resentment towards the boy, she never thought for a second that she should blame Schemer directly. But the thought did occur to her, perhaps others might. She bit the inside of her cheek. Had Schemer had to deal with Dan's parents this evening? Her brother and sister in law might carry some of their own anger towards the situation. She'd do her best to help smooth it over in the morning.
"Yeah, well, as long as he has me as a role model he'll surely be headed towards a dark future. He's already got enough life circumstances working against him, being orphaned and having no real parents," he said robotically.
"I don't understand… Schemer, it was just one day. Sure, he can be a handful at times, but he's not out of control," she said with a frown, "Wait, did someone say something like that to you?" The detached manner he used was very out of place, and he would never speak of his life situation, or Schemee, so coldly.
He ignored the question, standing up unsteadily. "I'm a failure, and it shouldn't be me raising him. It wasn't supposed to be me. His mother is supposed to be alive and taking care of him, this is all wrong. He needs someone better." He was borderline hyperventilating and Stacy became alarmed.
"I need to get out of here," he rasped, stumbling down the stairs. As he reached the bottom step he caught himself and let himself slide down to be seated.
Schemer's world was spinning and he felt the overwhelming urge to leave the area, but his limbs felt heavy and ungainly. He let his head rest against the bannister, feeling like he couldn't breath. A sharp inhale of breath, followed by another prompted him to claw at his tie and wrench it down a few inches while his other hand fumbled with the top button of his shirt. As he pulled it loose he felt his gasps shuddering through his chest, each inhale didn't feel like enough and he was pushing air out of lungs faster than he could take it in. The dizziness cleaved at his senses and he leaned in to grip the bannister, struggling to breath and ground himself.
His ears were ringing loudly but he could hear someone's voice calmly calling to him. He couldn't quite make out the words but the soothing cadence helped centre him slightly. He could hear his name, repeated in a calming way, and was also aware of someone gently slipping their arm around his shoulders.
"Breathe slower, you're okay, take a deep breath and hold it for a moment."
He tried to follow the instructions, finding it exceedingly difficult at first but eventually was able to add a short pause between his inhales and exhales.
"Schemer, you're having a panic attack. You're okay, you're safe, I'm here," Stacy's voice said from a faraway place off his left shoulder.
He didn't feel safe, the dread threatened to swallow him whole and he didn't know how to break away from it. He screwed his eyes shut, willing himself to make it stop.
"Keep breathing, slower now. In through your nose and out through your mouth."
He did his best to obey and once he was able to get into a rhythm he clung to it like a lifeline. His chest hurt and felt tight, but it slowly subsided as he slowed his breathing.
He allowed his eyes to open and found he was still at the station. The dizziness had almost left him and he loosened his grip on the bannister. His chest was still heaving and his level of exertion made him feel like he had just run a marathon.
The grip across his shoulders similarly loosened and he hazarded a look towards Stacy. Her warm eyes were full of concern and he felt ashamed.
"I'm sorry," he croaked.
She shook her head, "Don't be," she said softly.
They sat shoulder to shoulder until he straightened himself up, putting one hand on the railing to hoist himself up. She got up faster and offered her hand, which he accepted. He still felt woozy and let himself rely on the railing for support as she placed a steadying hand on his mid back.
He remembered that his family was looking for him and he swallowed back his guilt. "I should call… let them know I'll be there soon."
"Wait," she said gently, "Let me drive you home, I think you need to avoid driving tonight. Why don't you ask your mother to keep him for the night and to let her know that you're okay."
She was right, he didn't love the scenario but it was better than showing up looking like a mess and having to explain himself.
"I can sleep on your couch, I think you could use some company," she offered.
"I can't ask you to do that," he replied regretfully, "You've done enough for me tonight."
"You don't have to ask, I'm offering. I'll swing by my place first for a few things. I'll leave my car here and get a ride with you in the morning," she said steadfastly.
He gave a ghost of a smile and she smiled sadly back. "Make that phone call when you're ready and we'll head out."
He dutifully picked up the phone, feeling like he sounded well enough to not alarm anyone and dialled the number. His mother answered immediately, as if knowing it was him. She gently scolded him for losing track of the time and he apologized. He told her he would be too late to get Schemee and asked her to keep him for the evening and he'd get him in the morning, to which she accepted. They ended the call, seemingly without her realizing anything was amiss to his immense relief.
Stacy had grabbed her things and was waiting in the front entryway for him to join her. He handed her his keys and they walked in a companionable silence to his car.
"I don't know if I've ever sat in this seat," he muttered as he climbed into the passenger side.
She smiled wryly and drove them back to his place.
They sat in his den, neither ready to go to bed yet but feeling emotionally exhausted. She had made tea for them and he carefully sipped it, looking blankly ahead.
"I know this was hard for you, but I'm worried about you. You sounded really grave when talking about being his guardian," she carefully explained. She didn't want him to feel attacked but she was hoping she could get him in a better place.
He nodded slowly, lowering his cup. "I know, and I guess that's how I felt in the moment. I believed that he would be better off with someone else, and I guess I didn't really have an option for that and I panicked," he explained sullenly.
"And what about now?" she asked.
"Eh, better I guess. I still don't believe I'm the best option but I'm the best that he's got," he shrugged.
It was something. "Schemer, I just want to ask something, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but did someone tell you something to make you believe that?" she asked seriously.
He looked away forlornly.
"Look it's okay, you don't have to name names, but I really want to understand if this is internal or external. I know how I feel about it, and I would say that you are an amazing guardian to him. He's not at a disadvantage with you, and you do the best you can to curb his rebellious ways."
He gave a small sad smile, and she felt slightly at ease, like he was listening to her this time.
"It was both, I suppose. It started out externally but I guess I felt it to be real enough inside," he said simply.
She was immediately outraged. She said she wouldn't ask for names and she would respect his silence, but to say something so cold to him was unforgivable. She desperately hoped it wasn't her family members but she would do her best to rule them out.
He gave her a knowing look. "See, this is why I didn't want to say anything. You'd just get mad."
"I… Well, it's highly inappropriate and cruel. And just downright wrong," she gritted out between clenched teeth.
He almost smirked, almost, as he sipped his tea.
"I suppose I should call Dan's parents tomorrow," he said, looking ill at the idea, "I haven't reached out yet. I bet they're furious. I still need to figure out the punishment before that point though."
She was immediately relieved to learn that it wasn't them. "I can help you if you'd like," she offered.
This time he shook his head firmly. "No, I won't put you in that position. This one's for me."
She accepted that and let the silence take over again. He placed his cup down. "I'll tidy up in the morning, but I've got to go to bed. Listen, I can't make you sleep on a couch with everything you've done for me. You take my bed, I'll sleep in Schemee's room tonight," he offered, slowly getting up.
"I couldn't ask you to do that," she said, similarly putting down her cup, frowning.
"You're not asking, I'm offering," he said simply, giving her the first real smile she'd seen from him since the afternoon.
She smirked back. "Fine then, goodnight Schemer."
"Good night Stacy, and thanks… for everything."
Dropping Stacy off the next morning was easy, but suddenly being alone and faced with the prospect of facing Schemee left his stomach in knots. Nonetheless, he had to go through with it.
He took a deep breath before letting himself into his mom's house. They were seated at the breakfast table.
"Morning," he offered plainly. He didn't have the energy for fake cheeriness, but in this case it was probably for the best. He had to parent in a difficult situation and it wouldn't exactly set the tone properly.
Schemee mumbled good morning back to him and his mom embraced him, seeming to scrutinise his face. He suddenly felt self conscious, and willed himself to maintain eye contact instead of avoiding her gaze.
She led him into the next room. "Are you feeling alright?" she asked, wasting no time.
"Fine, just a rough day," he muttered, keeping Schemee out of earshot.
"Well, alright then. Next time try not to keep us worrying," she chided him, still searching his face for signs of anything out of place.
"I won't… But, uh, I have a question. What exactly am I supposed to do?" he asked, feeling foolish. He still didn't have a punishment in mind, and felt lost.
She smiled knowingly. "I think if you talk to him, you'll be able to come up with something. Look at it this way, you took the time to think about it, calm down, and come back with a rational mind. You can do this, you just need to trust yourself to have this conversation. And then you can do damage control."
He considered this carefully. "It's almost as if you have experience with difficult children," he said wryly.
She smirked but he noted the hint of sadness in her eyes. "I've made many mistakes parenting, and it is a fact of life, but it's one we all have to come to terms with. You will too, and you will blame yourself, but every moment is a learning experience," she said gently, reaching out for his hand, "Your sister's death was nothing short of a tragedy, and we all want her back. But you have stepped up and deserve to be here. Now I think it's time for you to face your fears."
After Schemer dropped her off at her car Stacy decided to run a few errands before going home. One of her stops brought her to Barton Winslow's store and as she was gathering groceries in her basket she heard him call out to her across the aisle.
"Good morning Stacy!" he said jovially.
"Good morning Barton," she responded, smiling, "How are you today?"
"Good, good. And I assume that you're doing better today than yesterday?" he asked. The way he said the word "yesterday" suggested something distasteful.
She was confused for a second at what he meant, thinking he was referring to her helping Schemer at the station, but that didn't make sense because it had just been the two of them. Then she remembered the actual events Barton had been present for, the bike incident, and clued in. She had almost forgotten, so much had happened since then and those events seemed so far away now.
"Oh… well. I mean, it wasn't great but it's been sorted and we're able to move on. I spoke to my brother and Dan is going to be just fine," she offered neutrally, not really wanting to get into it.
Barton shook his head. "You don't have to be so polite. I feel for you Stacy, I really do. Working so closely with someone like Schemer must be a challenge for someone like you."
She looked at him in horror. "Someone like…," she responded numbly, "Barton, I don't know what you're insinuating but Schemer is my friend."
He gave her a sad smile. "Oh Stacy, you're too kind for your own good. Schemer, and that whole family, is trouble. Always has been. You are too young to remember but I grew up with the lot of them and, unfortunately, they're just not like the other people in town. Also it's unfortunate that the young one seems to be following in his uncle's footsteps. I worry about him and the influence he's receiving," he said gravely, "There's a lot of history there, I'll tell you about it sometime."
If she was mad before she was absolutely furious now. "Barton, you know as well as I do that spreading unkind rumours just alienates people, rather than welcomes them into the fold. I don't want to hear or care about this so-called history," she scolded back at him.
Something else dawned on her. Someone had clearly said something to upset Schemer last night, someone that had to have been there for the events of the day. Her stomach sank.
"Stacy you're young and I know you'll see what you want to see, but I do just want you to be careful," he sighed condescendingly.
"And you're old enough to know better than to judge people by their families. What would Schemer think if he heard this? Don't you think it'd be hurtful?"
He had the good sense to look guilty at this, but admitted to nothing. "We'll have to agree to disagree on this one I'm afraid Stacy."
"Fine then. Well I'm afraid I don't have time to continue my shopping, good day Barton," she said as she began to put her items back. Perhaps it was petty, but she really did not want to support him right this second.
That was the problem with small towns though. Short of driving much further away for supplies, you were stuck with who and what you got. And if you disagreed you just had to move forward as best you could.
It was silent in the car, and Schemer still found himself at a loss for words. But he had to start somewhere, and they had to get through this together.
"Have you had time to think about why what you did was wrong?" Schemer asked carefully.
Schemee didn't respond immediately, before answering in a small voice. "Yes."
"So walk me through it then."
"Well, I didn't think he'd be hurt, and I was just bettering my odds," Schemee offered, hopefully.
Schemer sighed. "No, that doesn't matter. If you do something that has the potential to hurt people, it doesn't matter what your intentions were. Winning is not worth the chance of hurting your friends." This wasn't starting well, if he couldn't grasp this concept.
"No, I know that now. And I am sorry it happened."
Schemer pulled the car over, he could no longer focus on this conversation and drive with the sinking feeling in his stomach. "But are you sorry you did it?"
"I mean, I guess so?" he shrugged, "I didn't mean for him to get hurt."
Schemer shook his head sadly. "I'm very disappointed in you Schemee," he said seriously, "I really need you to think about what you did. And I'll give you your punishment when you've had time to sit with this. We'll go see Dan and his parents this afternoon, you have until then."
Schemee lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and mulling over the conversation from the car ride over. He had about an hour before his uncle told him they had to leave for Dan's house to apologize.
If he was being honest with himself he knew why he had to apologize. It was cut and dry, really. Dan got hurt because of him, and he couldn't really argue his way out of it.
There was a real problem in admitting that he had been wrong. Winning had been important to him. Winning was important to him. But perhaps winning hadn't been worth the cost.
He thought about how his prize had been taken away from him and scrunched his nose. Winning definitely wasn't worth the cost.
But arguably worse than losing the money had been the immediate loss of respect. Anyone who had celebrated with him had quickly changed their tone. His friends, his uncle. They all backed off and rejected his win. At first he doubled down, infuriated. But as time went on he could read the disappointment on their faces. His uncle's reaction in particular had hurt. Usually they were a team, but it was when he saw the suspicion spreading over his uncle's face that he knew he had gone too far. This time it went beyond just suspicion. It was disbelief and horror. And then afterwards it was like his uncle treated him like a stranger, like he couldn't be around him.
Schemee also thought of Barton Winslow's judgmental gaze burning through the truck window as he drove by, moments before he found his uncle looking dazed. Something about that made him feel incredibly low, like he had brought them both down with his actions. He wanted to be admired, not looked down upon. His uncle cared deeply about his image, their image, so he really didn't want to jeopardize that.
Then there was Dan… Schemee had been burying that guilt but it finally made good on its threat to boil over. Schemee didn't have many friends, but Dan was one of the few. Well, he hoped he still was, anyways. Sabotaging a friend was one thing but actually hurting them was another. He did regret it, he regretted it all.
He sighed deeply and knew what he had to do.
The next day at the station Stacy was pleased to see Schemer entering the building with a renewed spring in his step.
"I take it that it went well?" she asked.
"Surprisingly! And guess what, Schemee actually came up with a reasonable punishment on his own."
"Oh? What was it?"
Schemer looked a little mystified. "Well, when I told him I had thought about it and was ready to give him a punishment he stopped me. He said he'd been thinking and felt that since he had ruined Dan's bike it was only fair to give Dan his bike!"
"Huh! That is interesting though. Did you let him do it?" she asked curiously.
"I was stunned and didn't know what to say at first. I told him he didn't have to give away his belongings and that we could do something else. But he said he was sure. He also said he would work to make up the funds to buy himself a new bike."
"Wow, I have to say that I'm impressed. I guess he felt guilty in the end," she suggested thoughtfully.
"I think he felt guilty this whole time. He can be hard to read because he keeps a lot buried. We're working on it, but overall I think we can put this issue behind us. I did ground him for a shorter amount of time, and I will eventually help him with his new bike, but this seems like a fair middle ground for now."
"I'm proud of you both," she said sincerely, "I'm sure it's already blown over."
His smile fell a fraction of an inch. "Well, maybe for some people. I'm sure there's a few who won't forget."
"Maybe. But they don't matter. And Schemer, if you ever hear otherwise please know you can confide in me. I won't hear anything bad said about your parenting."
He gave her a wolfish grin. "And what about me personally?" he asked, leaning playfully on her desk.
She playfully pushed his face back with her open palm. "Get out of here! Depends what you did and if you deserved it!"
He walked away laughing and she couldn't help but join in.