A.N. I'm still responsible for all inconsistencies, flaws, and grammatical errors. Lisa you always ask the best questions and you'll find that you won more arguments than you lost.

A Bad Monday

7:15 am

Sandy and Ryan drove along the quiet suburban streets of their community. The adobe colored mansions, with their red tile roofs, that lined these streets were all variations on the California mission style. Sandy found all this uniformity monotonous. Even after ten years of Southern California exile and despite his love for surfing, he still missed Berkeley, real seasons, and two-party politics.

Conformity appealed to a Southern Californian mindset, which prized appearance over substance. Caleb Nichol had divined this and developed a new community to appeal to it. The multi-million dollar mansions had sprouted like desert flowers after a rain. It had become his El Dorado, the foundation of the Newport Group.

The automatic sprinklers that maintained the perfect emerald green lawns of these mansions were finishing their morning programs as the white-gloved security guards waved them through the gates. Ryan wondered cynically how long the guards' gloves would stay white out in the real world. For that matter, he wondered how long the guards themselves would survive in his old neighborhood.

Sandy merged the BMW easily into the late morning traffic. They had missed the heavier early-morning traffic of suits headed for the office towers downtown. The streets now belonged to the domestics, gardeners, and other invisible people needed to provide the indispensable services that kept Newport's bubble inflated and insulated from the realities of blue collar neighborhoods like Chino.

Sandy wondered if any of the people in the cars around them were coming in from Chino. Did any of them know Ryan? What would those people think if they knew that Ryan was behind the tinted windows of the black BMW passing them? Ryan Atwood, formerly of Chino, on probation, whose father and brother were in jail, and whose mother was in rehab, was on his way to a school at which the tuition cost more than many of those in the cars around them earned in a year. A pauper had become a prince. The preposterousness of the situation appealed to Sandy's sense of the absurd. A chuckle escaped him that distracted Ryan from his own preoccupation and prompted a question.

"What's so funny?'

"I was thinking about you, Ryan." At Ryan's raised eyebrows, Sandy hastened to add. "I mean I was thinking about your situation here in Newport and how no-one would believe the premise if it was fiction."

Ryan smiled but went back to staring out the window without comment.

"I didn't tell you, but Seth's doctor was in to see him this morning." Sandy now had Ryan's complete attention. "Barring complications, Seth should be out of the hospital by the end of the week. The doctor said that he'd need a week or so of recuperation at home and then he could start back to school part-time."

This news brought a broad smile to Ryan's face.

"You know," he offered slowly, "I've been thinking about what happens when Seth comes home. I think I should move into the guestroom next to Seth's room while he's recovering. Since your bedroom is at the other end of the house, there's no need for one of you guys to move. Seth is gonna need someone to keep him company when he's awake. So, since I'm going to be up there all the time anyway," Ryan's expression was that of a martyr contemplating the dietary preferences of lions. "I might as well sleep up there too. It's only for a couple of weeks, after all."

"Thanks Ryan, but you don't have to do that. I saw Seth's old baby monitor in the garage and we could---" The end of Sandy's sentence was cut short by Ryan's bark of laughter. "You think he might take offense at us using a baby monitor?" Ryan's continued laughter was the only answer he received. "I see that you do. Hmm. I'll discuss your idea with Kirsten."

Sandy frowned thoughtfully and glanced over at Ryan. "It shouldn't come up but Seth could possibly require help with some of his personal needs when he comes home."

Ryan gave him a puzzled look and then chuckled. "Oh yeah. Like every sixteen-year-old boy wants his mom helping him with his personal needs? If it comes up, we'll handle it. It won't be a problem."

Taking advantage of this opportunity, Sandy pressed on. "Why's this test so important that you can't miss it? You're recovering from an automobile accident." He shook his head slowly. "You're just like Kirsten."

"How's that?" Ryan asked curiously.

"Kirsten in college was totally obsessed with her grades. She made every test, every research paper a life or death event. She had to be the best at everything she did. I can't imagine where that came from!"

The sarcasm in the car was so thick that Ryan wondered if he should open his window.

"That was, of course, before she met me. I made it my personal mission in life to get this uptight, shiksa princess to loosen up. I taught her how to enjoy life, how to catch a wave."

"Kirsten surfs?" Ryan asked incredulously. "Does Seth know?"

"Surfed, past tense. She was never very good. Actually she sucked but she tried it for me. After she met the Sandman she learned to have fun and still graduated with honors. We had a lot of fun during our years in Berkeley after Seth was born and before her mom got sick. Those were good times," Sandy said wistfully, his mind calling up memories of less complicated times.

"It's Euro." Ryan interrupted Sandy's reverie. He considered for a moment and then added. "It's my hardest, no correction, my least favorite subject."

"You got an A in Euro last semester. What's different this time?"

Ryan smiled to himself. Dawn had never shown any interest in Ryan's schoolwork. She had signed his report card, the minimum involvement demanded of a parent by the State of California, and that was all. She had never attended a teacher conference or any of the meetings his school counselors had tried to arrange with her. Ryan was unsure how he felt about Sandy and Kirsten's interest in his schoolwork. On the whole, he thought he liked it. Seth declared this to be a sign of serious weirdness on Ryan's part.

"Well, the difference is that Mr. O'Conell really liked the paper on the Inquisition that Luke and I did last semester. That paper counted for 50% of my grade and this semester I have to do another research paper but without a partner. This paper will also be worth 50% of my grade, but it won't have any of the high tech flash that Luke whipped up. That A+ helped a lot last semester. My grade in Euro this semester will be based only on what Ryan Atwood turns in." Ryan's expression was a confusion of uncertainty and resignation..

"What's the problem, Ryan? You're a bright kid. You can pass any course - even one you dislike." Sandy glanced over at Ryan to gauge his reaction.

"But just passing isn't good enough! I don't know how much you and Kirsten are paying to send me to Harbor." There was a hint of anger in his voice. "I've asked but you won't tell me and Seth claims not to know. He says it's unimportant. But whatever it is, I owe it to you guys to do more than just pass a class. I owe you a lot more!" This last was said with an intensity that surprised Sandy.

Sandy's attention was diverted from Ryan by the increase in traffic as they neared the entrance to Harbor School.

"So, Ryan tell me the plan again for this afternoon."

Ryan scowled. "I'm sixteen not brain dead!"

"There's not as much difference between those two states as you might like to believe. Humor a poor parent, Ryan. What time am I picking you up and what do you do if one of us is late?"

"Okay, you're picking me up at 4:00 pm. The only reason I might be late is if Coach Thompson won't let me out of soccer practice. I'll see him last period in PE and work it out with him. Considering I look like I was in a car wreck…." Ryan smiled wryly and continued, "that shouldn't be a problem. Besides, the team's winning and Luke's as good as I am at striker." Turning serious, he continued. "Even if Coach doesn't buy it and won't excuse me, the worst he would do is bench me for a game or two for missing practice."

Sandy frowned at that. "I'll talk to Dr. Kim about you being excused from practice when I see her this morning about Seth. I don't want you having any more trouble with your coach or missing any games."

"Sandy, you're turning into a regular soccer dad. You like having a jock in the family you can brag about at the office. You probably have my team picture on your wall." Ryan said with an air of annoyance

"Actually it's on my desk next to the picture of Kirsten and Seth." Sandy offered in a casual voice. "But what do you do if you're going to be late?

Ryan arched an eyebrow at him and continued. "If I'm late, I'll call you on your cell as soon as I know there's a problem and you and Kirsten will work out who picks me up."

"And if I'm late?" Sandy asked.

The BMW turned onto the tree-lined avenue that served as the Harbor School's main street. It curved around a forested hill climbing to the top where the high school and administration buildings were located. The preschool, elementary school, and middle school facilities hugged the base of the hill. Sandy remembered now why it had always been Kirsten who took Seth to school. The street in front of him was a crazy confusion of meandering students, double parked cars, and irritated parents trying to fight their way out of the morass.

"If you're late, you'll leave me a voicemail on my cell. I'll call you as soon as I get your message. I'm not to leave campus without letting you or Kirsten know. But, seriously, Sandy, you need to check your cell phone. It hasn't rung once since we left home."

Sandy gratefully pulled into a space in the visitor's parking lot below the administration building. Getting out of the car, he locked it with his remote and joined Ryan who was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairway leading up to main campus.

Watching Ryan's slow progress, Sandy berated himself for his thoughtlessness. "Damn, Ryan. I should have looked for a spot on upper campus. Do you want some help with your backpack?"

"It's not a big deal, Sandy. I'm telling myself that it's physical therapy." Ryan shook his head, took a firm hold on the handrail, and continued his campaign to reach the top.

Matching his pace to that of Ryan's, Sandy took his cellphone out of his pocket and pressed a button on its face. The phone rang immediately. "No need to check anything, Ryan. It's working fine. I turned it off on the way out of the house."

Ryan blinked at him in surprise.

"Don't give me that look, Ryan. I am not a slave to my cell phone. I'm a responsible citizen: I turn it off in court, in public places, and when I'm having important conversations." As the phone rang again he paused to answer it.

Ryan continued up the staircase, his head down, with a determined expression on his face. As he climbed past Sandy, he allowed himself a weak smile. He was amazed that Sandy would consider the drive to school with him important time. He stopped at the top of the stairs, breathing heavily. Straightening, he worked to relax his aching body and compose his face. Turning he waited until he caught Sandy's eye and waved before setting out for the quad.