Chapter 5

Even as Chester began to stir, Ryan was frozen in place. He-hit-Chester. A scrawny kid even for his age, Chester was the type who wouldn't harm a fly. And Ryan dropped him. Ryan's heart was pumping hard and he was out of breath, but he was also strangely calm. He couldn't quite hear what Mr. Moore was shouting at him, or move a muscle to save his life but he wasn't as surprised as he thought he might be over this huge thing. It was almost as if he expected such a moment in his life.

Sandy came up from behind and shook him by the shoulders. Ryan stared blankly at him and wanted to say something but he couldn't. There was nothing to do but let things take their natural course now. Whatever happened would be fine by him, maybe even make his life easier by taking away the hard choice of what to do about Chester's secret. Or if he had to go back to Chino, the pressure of trying to live up to Cohen standards.

Sandy left Ryan and knelt by Chester. He was helping Chester to sit up and murmuring consoling words when Mrs. Moore, Kirsten, and Seth rushed up. Somebody might have grabbed Ryan's arm, but he wasn't sure. Ryan watched the hazy group of people running around excitedly. The only thing that registered was Chester getting up, walking slowly away with Mrs. Moore and Kirsten's assistance. Ryan tried to catch Chester's eyes but the boy never looked his way.

Mr. Moore turned back to Ryan and poked his finger in his chest, glaring at him, then at Sandy. He also seemed to be screaming white noise. Sandy was red in the face, but was trying to get Mr. Moore to calm down. Ryan squinted and tried to concentrate on what they were saying, but the family dog wandered by taking a piss here and there and he couldn't help trying to guess where he might piss next.

Ryan felt annoying little tugs on his sleeve that wouldn't stop. "Yeah, yeah. Okay, what?" Ryan narrowed his eyes on Seth who was standing next to him. Ryan shook his head and blinked a few times trying to clear his mind and focus on what was happening. He could make out what Mr. Moore yelling now.

"Get that punk out of my house. He's not going to ruin my banquet, and I'll see that he is sent back to prison where he belongs. Get out!" Mr. Moore's combed over hairstyle was in disarray and his face was throbbing with angry veins.

Sandy walked over to Seth and said quietly, "Seth, I'm not sure what your mom's going to do. Tell her I took Ryan home in our car. If she went to hospital with them you may have to pick her up. You have the keys to the Rover, right?" Without waiting for Seth's reply, Sandy glanced at Ryan. "If they call the police, she'll know to tell them that's where we'll be."

Sandy pulled Ryan by the arm, and led him around the side of the house. Ryan let himself be dragged along but he looked back. Mr. Moore was heading for the door but kept an eagle eye on them as they left. Seth looked back at him, fighting back tears, worried and scared.

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Ryan, head hung low and shoulders slumped in defeat, lagged behind Sandy up the walkway. He looked up when Sandy stopped at the open front door. Their eyes met, and Ryan saw disappointment and questions he couldn't answer there. Ashamed, he dropped his gaze and slowed to a stop by the front stoop. He sat heavily on the bottom step, his back to Sandy. With only a moment's pause, Sandy joined him.

Just as they did on the drive home, they sat in silence for long, long minutes, neither moving nor looking at each other.

Ryan's face was just beginning to swell, and his eyes were red and itchy. Sandy's nice dinner jacket was rumpled and damp, his tie yanked loose.

Sandy started. "I don't get it Ryan."

Ryan didn't answer or otherwise acknowledge Sandy.

"Ryan, you have got to talk to me. Right now. I've got to know what we are facing."

In a rough voice barely above a whisper Ryan said, "I'm sorry."

"What happened? Seth practically drags me out back saying you need to talk to me. We see you beating the crap out of Mr. Moore. Chester...". Sandy's voice trailed off. "How could you hit a kid, Ryan? A kid."

"I never saw him; I didn't mean to hit Chester." Ryan's eyes were wet with tears but they remained mostly hidden in the dimly lit portico.

Sandy seemed to be at a loss of words. He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. He repeated, "Talk to me."

Ryan cleared his thickened throat. "I was running the bleachers when I saw Chester's dad slap him and treat him like crap. That was yesterday afternoon. When he didn't show up for Seth's sailing lesson this morning, I had a bad feeling. Kirsten said you guys were going to their house so I decided to check him out. I was going to tell you everything as soon as you got there. Mr. Moore found us first."

Ryan thought of Chester with his goofy smile going on about Kaitlyn. Then the Chester he just left, frail and hurt. Ryan alternately balled each hand into a fist, pounding it into the open hand, and cracking his knuckles. Ryan's voice grew angry. "Chester already had broken ribs, and his dad started on Chester in front of me. What was I supposed to do? Stand there and let him get his ass kicked?"

"How about you step back, think for just one second, and get someone to help? Do you realize how this can affect you? Us?" Sandy shook his head in disgusted amazement. "What I saw – it scared me, Ryan."

Ryan didn't answer. In frustration, Sandy sighed and shook his head slowly, over and over.

"You need help, and I don't know if I know how. Maybe we need a professional."

Ryan inspected the injuries to his knuckles, delaying his reply. "I don't need a shrink. I already know how fucked up my childhood was. We don't need to spend your money for some doctor to get me to say it." He added bitterly, "I am an Atwood; I'm cursed, damaged."

"You're not damaged, but that doesn't mean you don't need help. What, you think it's okay for Marissa and weak Newport people to get professional help, but not the tough guy from Chino? Is that it?"

"What's gonna happen, Sandy? I messed up Chester – he would have been better off without the kind of help I offered. I have to fix that."

"Ryan! Damn it, no." Sandy said furiously. "You can't fix everything. You may have thought you were doing the right thing for Chester tonight, but look how it turned out."

Sandy sighed heavily again and ran a hand through his hair. He paused and seemed to consider his next words carefully.

"Didn't you get anything from the Oliver debacle?" Sandy said, "You may have been right about him but what you did wasn't right - you didn't need to break into the record room or beat him up in the student lounge. Do you get that?"

Sandy stared hard at Ryan as if willing him to see the logic in his argument. Ryan remained tense and silent.

Sandy let out an exasperated groan and rolled his head. "You need to start worrying about you. Chester is in the doctors' hands now. You're not some naïve kid so I'll tell you: money matters. The Moores have some weight around here. It's gonna take a lot of tap dancing to keep Child Services away from us. You will not go near Chester, his family, or any other kids until we figure this out. Understood?"

"I would never hurt any kid." Ryan shook his head and muttered under his breath, "I'm not like them."

"What?" Sandy asked, leaning closer.

Ryan didn't answer aloud, but he thought to himself, "Like who? Like my sick-fuck of a Dad who liked to humiliate Trey and me? Like my mom's string of boyfriends who used us for punching bags? Like Mom who didn't care and just up and left me? Was this how they started, too? First grow up in some shit hole, inure yourself to commonplace violence - ignore kids slapped at the grocers and turn a blind eye to the sad neighbors with fat lips and angry husbands. Then, an accident becomes an indifferent string of accidents, becomes an enjoyable habit?"

Ryan had to admit to a thrill, a rush of adrenaline that came with putting yourself to a test. Since his first successes in warding off schoolyard bullies and one of his mother's scrawnier boyfriends, he knew lofty non-violent platitudes were not meant for him or places like Chino. Each time he squared off he knew he could fuck somebody up or be fucked up. There was a simple pleasure in letting practiced reflexes take over, making tactical decisions unconsciously in a blurry but heightened state of mind. And afterwards the joy in standing over some asshole, aching and breathing hard, but knowing you had proven your point was pure.

Sometimes he knew beforehand he was going to get his ass kicked, but it was important to let Seth know he was willing to fight the polo team for him, to let Marissa know he would protect her, to let Trey know he was still family. But more often than not, it was as if a switch was pulled that set him off without these dainty pre-game analyses. Before tonight the fights had always been justifiable, futile and stupid maybe, but rational to his survivor's logic.

Tonight a darkness had come over him; he wasn't completely there when Chester was hit. He vaguely remembered his surprise when his fist hit something that wasn't part of the massive man. And maybe a yelp from Chester, but he wasn't sure. Maybe he imagined all this, reconstructed from the image of Chester lying so still on the ground. A renewed wave of guilt came over him. His dad would sometimes apologize and feel bad afterwards, too. Ryan's head pounded and his stomach ached. Accident or not, there was no escaping the fact that he was already one of them; he had hit a child. Ryan's already tense body trembled at this undeniable conclusion and he fought to keep it together.

"Ryan? Hey, Ryan?" Ryan could sense as much as see that Sandy was staring at him with new concern.

Ryan stood up, moving a few steps away from Sandy's prying eyes. He dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands to take his mind off of the picture of Chester falling to the ground.

Sandy stood up as well. "Hey, Ryan... I understand what you're going through. Adjusting to a new place, a new family, is always hard. Newport? Not good with the plebeians like us. I've seen lots of kids working at the DA's office and, trust me, things do get better."

Awkwardly Sandy gently reached out touching the boy's arm, trying to pull him into an embrace. Ryan shook him off abruptly and turned to him.

"So I'm a statistic? One that your DA's office says the shrinks will, statistically speaking, make Little Orphan Ryan all better, huh? You can't possibly understand. Really, you've got some nerve 'like us'." Ryan's face was flush. He began pacing a few steps in each direction at the bottom of the steps. "Seth told me you're mad that your dad took off? Hell, Trey and I celebrated when we went a week without shit from Dad. And I'll bet your mom didn't decide on a fifth of Jack over a bag of groceries. Dealt from the same deck? You and me - we are barely in the same game."

Sandy opened his mouth to speak, but Ryan raised his hand to cut him off. He shook his head and laughed sarcastically.

He paced some more, blowing off the steam from his speech. Then he paused and tilted his head, looking up, to help him remember the facts straight. "Well, here's my office's statistic: The U.S. Department of Health and Human Services estimates one third of those abused become abusers. Much better odds than we got in The Vegas."

They looked at each other in a sort of isolated stalemate for a few moments. Sandy's eyes were filled with tears and he shook his head sadly.

Ryan slowly relaxed his defensive posture and sighed. He said quietly, "You think some talk therapy will kill the monster in me, but I think the apple didn't fall far enough from the tree. I'm sorry."

Sandy seemed genuinely shocked, his face contorted in pain. "That's crazy. You are the most empathetic, caring teenager I know. Nothing is a given, Ryan. You would never hurt a child intentionally. It's the lawyer in me that insists you stay away so we don't give them any more ammunition. Know this: the father in me doesn't believe your crap for a second."

"Sandy, maybe it's better that I go into Child Services. I won't run away this time. Everything I touch turns to shit. You guys have been so good to me; you've already done too much. I don't want to drag you into my mess."

"We don't jettison trouble in this family; we help."

Ryan was surprised to find tears running down his face freely, and he turned away from Sandy. He wasn't sure why he was crying, but he couldn't stop shaking either. He didn't know what to do or say and he couldn't think anymore. He leaned against one of the pillars.

The headlights of a car momentarily caught the two. Ryan drew a deep breath and turned toward the house. "Getting cleaned up," he mumbled.

Sandy gave Ryan a reassuring pat on the shoulder as the boy rushed by. "We're gonna figure this out together," Sandy called after him.

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Ryan looked up as Seth gave a cursory knock on the pool house door before entering. Seth was still in his dinner clothes without the jacket. He looked exhausted.

"Hey man." Seth scrutinized Ryan. Ryan was freshly showered, his wet hair still matted down. His face was swollen and the bruises were a mottled purple.

Ryan was putting away his shoes and dirty clothes, moving with some difficulty.

"Hey." Ryan tried to reassure Seth and stop him from asking too many hard questions with a level look.

Seth made himself comfortable on the bed; he was sprawled on his back staring at the ceiling. "I really did have your back, you know. You could have come to get me." Seth's tone was light but there was no mistaking the sharp edge of an accusation.

"Yeah. I know."

Seth remained silent, his lips pursed tightly.

Ryan paused and turned to Seth. He attempted a quick a smile. "Let me make a sacrificial offering, or do you a huge favor? Steal a rock from the kung fu master, kill the Jabberwocky, 'Evil Knevil' Mount Doom or something?"

"Ha. Okay, point taken." Seth continued to stare at the ceiling while Ryan returned to meticulously hanging his suit back on its hanger. He placed it on a wall hook so Rosa could see to take it to the cleaners. He folded the dirt-stained tie into the jacket pocket, but left part of it sticking out so it would be noticed. After he couldn't think of any more chores, he sat on the chair opposite the bed.

In a quiet and choked voice, Seth asked, "Don't you want to be with us? 'Cause sometimes it doesn't seem like it, dude." Before Ryan could reply, he added, "I've seen you fight like a billion times now. But it was the first time your freak out scared the shit out of me."

Ryan leaned forward in his chair and said earnestly, "Of course I want to stay. When your folks invited me to stay, it was the best thing that ever happened to me." Ryan exhaled loudly. "I don't know what happened. It's like I could not - not do something. I promised myself... I don't know. It would be like saying that that same shit that happened to me was okay." The last words were rushed as if to minimize the confession. Ryan sunk back into the chair. "How's Chester?"

Petulantly, Seth said, "Yeah, well you promised me, too, that you wouldn't get in a fight." Seth sighed. "Chester's getting help. When Dad and I saw your Incredible Hulk impression, he told me to get Mom. Mrs. Moore was with her. Mr. Moore told her to take him to the doctors so they scurried off."

"Good. Doctors will raise the red flag – kids ribs are hard to break without a being in car accident or really trying to. Too elastic or something."

Seth sat up. "Ryan, I'm not sure I want to know why you know that... Anyway after they left, Mr. Moore and Mom squared off. She got all dragon-woman on him and he continued with the dinner. We left early but Mom MC'd his welcoming speech so no one would stare at him with makeup. His shiner sort of matches yours, by the way. Mom was impressive, but that's not the end of it. They're meeting next week." Both boys were somber at the thought.

"Well, come on. The concerned denizens are nuking a late dinner."

The two teens made their way across the backyard. Mid way there they could hear parts of a loud conversation between Sandy and Kirsten from the open kitchen window.

"Sandy, Mr. Moore said Ryan attacked him and broke Chester's ribs. He's pressing charges! We could lose him."

There were muffled voices then Sandy said indignantly, "... been hurting Chester. Ryan doesn't hit children."

"Of course. But the point is will they believe it?" Kirsten's voice was shrill with worry.

There were kitchen noises, and then "... in over our heads?" Sandy asked. "I've got to tell you I was too scared of him to step in. Honey, I was frozen and couldn't help." His voice dropped, "We definitely need to think about professional help. And I gotta talk to Seth and make sure he's okay. He must be really upset, too. I guess we all are." There was a loud clatter of a dish shattering on the ceramic floor, curses, and then a flurry of sounds related to cleaning it up.

Seth closed his eyes and shook his head, gesturing toward his parents, as if to say their conversation was ridiculous. He said loudly, "So are you hungry, Ryan?"

Ryan's expression was inscrutable. His heavy legs followed Seth inside.