I arrived in the gym, 3:28, panting. Whitey watched me jog to him, but said
nothing until I was standing right in front of him.
"Well, Scott, it's good to see that you've joined us."
The other players were warming up, but passing and shooting.
"Start running. You're late."
I didn't move. He blew the whistle and then team came and slowly made a semicircle around Whitey. He looked at me, waiting for me to start running. I still didn't move.
"Lucas, I remember telling you last night and again this morning that practice starts at 3:00."
I nodded between breaths.
"Run, Luke." He said.
I looked up at him with my eyes, my head still hanging down.
"Don't give me that look, you knew what time you had to be here."
I got up and started running laps around the gym.
Whitey started yelling at the other players. Leave it to Whitey to have something completely life altering, like having one of your players move in with you, and still be able to act like nothing was different. I, however, did not seem to have that particular talent.
No one would come near me at practice. We were setting up plays and no one would follow through, they didn't want to hit me, touch me, or risk bothering me in any way.
"I'm not gonna break, dammit!" I yelled.
Everyone stared at me.
"My mom died, I don't have a disease. You're not going to get sick by coming in contact with me and I'm not going to break!"
"Sit out for a minute, Luke." Whitey said calmly, "You need to take a time out."
"What am I, five?! I'm not the one who's afraid to play!"
"Lucas. Sit." He said seriously, pointing at the bleachers.
"Forget it. Either let me play or I quit." I was still yelling, and Whitey did not appreciate me challenging him in front of the team.
"Lucas, get your ass on the bleachers!"
I walked up to Nathan and shoved the basketball in his stomach. "Take it. The team is yours. I quit."
I walked toward the metal double doors.
"Lucas!" Whitey called.
"What?! I screamed.
"Go back to my house. You're not allowed to see Keith."
"Whatever," I turned around again.
"Lucas!" I turned around and gave him a dirty look. He ran over to me.
"Do not go see Keith," he hissed in my ear.
I could feel the entire team staring at me, and all I wanted to do was run away. Run far, far away, where no one would look at me, or talk to me, and I didn't have to think about Keith or Mom, or my coach who was still whisper-yelling at me, although I was no longer listening.
He could tell I wasn't listening, "I'm serious, Luke," He grabbed my shoulder. "Do. Not. Go. See. Keith."
"I wasn't going to."
"Have a seat on the bleachers, and you can play again in a few minutes."
He stopped whispering at me and was making an effort to appear calm.
I didn't respond.
"Lucas. Take. A. Seat." He pointed to the bleachers.
I turned back toward the doors.
"Go home, then." He called after me.
That pissed me off. It didn't take a lot to set me off anymore, and he just did.
"Home? Where the hell is that?"
He sighed and spoke quietly, "Go to my house, Luke."
I shook my head, "My home is with Keith. My home is with Mom."
I ran out the doors before he could stop me.
I couldn't stop running. I ran through the school, and across the parking lot before Haley called, "Luke!"
I stopped and panted, resting my hands on my knees until she caught up with me. I was panting more from the argument with Whitey than from running. I felt so fragile. Haley ran up to me and I collapsed on her.
She patted my head as I lay on her shoulder, and she wrapped her arms around me. I wanted to cry, but I had no tears left.
Haley said nothing, just let me resume breathing at a normal pace.
"I hate life." I told her.
"No, Luke. Don't talk like that."
"Hales, I don't want to keep doing this. I don't want to go on hurting."
She led me to a picnic table and sat down with me.
"I just yelled at Whitey. I walked out on practice."
She nodded.
"He's letting me live with him, and I just blew up at him. And I cheated on Brooke. Peyton's been calling me, and I won't answer her calls. Dan, well, Dan is an asshole and I would love to hurt him."
She looked at me quizzically and I remembered that I never told her I slept with Peyton. I shook my head slightly and she got the hint. "Do you want me to get you anything?"
"Yeah, Keith."
She started to get out her cell phone.
"No, I can't see him."
"That sucks, Luke. I'm so sorry."
"Her funeral's tomorrow."
Haley nodded.
"I'm not gonna make it, Hales." She wrapped her arms around me and let me cry. She rubbed my back laid her head on my shoulder, crying along with me.
I don't know how long we sat there, holding each other.
We sat in silence after we stopped crying for at least 45 minutes. Haley was one of the few people I could sit in silence with for hours and feel like we'd talked for longer. Mom was the other one.
"Want me to take you home?" She asked finally, but the question was answered by Whitey who drove up to the picnic table.
"I finally find you, Scott."
"Congratulations." I said sarcastically.
"We don't have time for the attitude right now, Lucas, get in the car."
I stood up.
"Child Services is on their way over to the house."
"Why?"
"Does it matter? They're coming and it's going to look really bad if you are not there."
I said bye to Haley and climbed into the front seat of Whitey's car.
He didn't say anything to me for the first 5 minutes of the drive. I had to get it out of my system before I met with child services. "How long am I going to have to wait until you let me have it?"
"What?" He turned to look at me.
"For practice..." I prompted him.
"You're not quitting, Luke," he said, instead of answering my question.
"Yes I am."
"Why?"
I shrugged, "I'm just done."
"That's bullshit, Scott. Why are you really quitting?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Well that's a start."
He pulled into his driveway. "Good, they're not here yet."
I got out of the car.
"Take really quick shower and put on your best clothes. We'll continue this later."
"Great," I said sarcastically.
"You are in no position to give me attitude, Lucas."
"Sorry." I wasn't.
"Go change."
"What about you?"
"It's more important that you are presentable. I'm just playing foster parent."
"And that's working out so well," I said sarcastically again.
He pointed at me, "You're about to get slapped, Luke. Don't give me lip like that."
I just stared at him.
"Go change," he commanded again.
When I opened the door of the bathroom, just having finished my shower, Whitey called, "Lucas, the lady from child services is here."
"Be right there," I called.
I didn't have any nice clothes with me. I had one polo shirt that Brooke gave me. All of my pants hadn't been washed in weeks. Laundry was not one of my primary concerns. And living with men didn't exactly put laundry high on the list.
I pulled the polo right side out again. This was getting gross. I made a mental note to do laundry. Then I remembered that Mom's funeral was the next day. Laundry fell back down on the list of priorities.
Don't be impossible. Don't be impossible, I kept telling myself while I buttoned my shirt. When Mom got mad at me, she would always say, "Stop being impossible, Lucas." It had to mean something valuable.
My palms were sweaty. I was actually nervous. I never would have imagined that I would be meeting with a child services representative. It went so fast. I didn't know it was possible for things to go so fast and yet so slow at the same time. It seemed like months since they took me from Keith, but it was only yesterday morning.
Child Services was definitely speedy. There must not be many child custody cases in Tree Hill. Somehow I wasn't surprised.
It was not Martha Lansing who was there to interview me.
"Teresa Anderson," she stuck her hand out for me to shake it.
I took it suspiciously. These were the people who were stopping me from seeing Keith. Well, they were trying, anyway.
"I'm Lucas Scott," I told her, even though I'm sure she knew. It was somewhere on the form she had to fill out. I had been reduced to paperwork, just another custody case.
"It's nice to meet you, Lucas. Please sit down."
All three of us sat down on the couches in the living room. Whitey sat with me, and Teresa Anderson was on the other couch.
"What I understand, Lucas," she started, "is that Keith wants you to live with him. Is that what you want?"
I nodded.
"Ok, today I'm going to make sure he is a good parent for you and if all goes well, than that should be happening soon."
I nodded.
"I did run across a problem, however. Mr. Durham told me that Keith wants to adopt you."
"That's a problem?" I asked. Whitey glared at me.
She ignored me. "I spoke to your father about it and he said that it would be up to you in the end. Now I'm not sure what that means, but it seems he's supportive of the idea, which is good for you."
She may not have known what that meant, but it took Whitey all of four seconds to realize what Dan was saying. I could see the comprehension dawn on his face. Thankfully, he didn't say anything.
"Do you understand why you were taken away from..." she looked down at her paper, "...Keith in the first place?"
"No, I don't. And I doubt you do either considering you don't even know his name or any details about my case," I said rudely. I tried to stop with the attitude, albeit not very hard.
"Lucas," Whitey warned quietly.
She looked at her clipboard again.
"Save yourself the time," I told her, "he hit me. You nosy people were snooping around my house and saw him hit me once. For some reason you believe that that entitles you to take me away from my home and the last bit of family I have left. Good job. I applaud the use of our tax dollars."
She stared at me. I guess I was the first kid she had to deal with that possessed a brain.
"See why Keith hit him?" Whitey said, "Can you really blame him?"
"Thanks, Whitey, that helps."
"How about you stick with Coach or Mr. Durham." He told me, warningly. If I didn't watch it, Keith wouldn't be the only one who child services witnessed slapping me.
"Mr. Durham, could I have a minute alone with Lucas, please?"
"Sure," he said and left the room.
"Listen, Lucas, I think we got off on the wrong foot."
I said nothing.
"You're really not going to like me when we're done, but I'll ask you to please cooperate. I have a lot of power in getting you what you want if you work with me."
I raised an eyebrow. "What do I have to do?"
"I have several questions I need to ask you about Keith, and I need you to answer honestly. I already talked to Keith and asked him the same questions. Any inconsistencies look suspicious, so tell me the truth."
I nodded. How many times had she read those same lines off? They sounded so rehearsed.
"Ready?"
"Yeah, go ahead."
"What exactly happened the morning that Keith hit you?"
"I was being an ass- a jerk to him."
She nodded, urging me to continue, "I, uh, stayed the night at this girl's house without telling him and he was really angry with me. He yelled at me, and when I yelled back, he slapped me. Once. That's it. You guys took it way out of proportion."
"I hope that's the case, Lucas."
I nodded.
"Tell me something else. Was that the first time that Keith has hit you?"
I nodded. She scanned her papers.
"Keith gave a different answer. You can't protect him, Lucas. Do you want to try again?"
"Can you restate the question?"
"Was that the first time that Keith has hit you?" She repeated slower and louder.
"I'm not deaf or stupid, but as close as we've gotten in the 15 minutes that I've known you, I really don't feel comfortable talking to you about this," I was being rude and I knew it. The sad thing was I really didn't care. These people took me away from my home, they could put up with my attitude. She was trying to remain calm, although a slow stream of steam was starting to escape her ears.
"I'm sorry, Lucas, but I need you to answer the question. It is crucial to determining whether your situation with Keith is going to work out."
"How is that crucial? Tell me, did your dad ever hit you?"
She looked shocked, "I don't see how that is relevant to your case."
"Well, you think the amount of times that a man hits his child is indirectly correlated with how good a parent he is. And so I ask you if your dad ever hit you."
There was more steam starting to come from her ears. Whitey shouted from the other room, "Answer the damn question, Luke!"
Teresa looked like she should tell Whitey not to listen in, but she was thankful for his words. She raised an eyebrow as if to say, "Told you."
"No, alright, it was not the first time. Keith is like my father. We've had our fights. He spanked me once or twice when I was little. So?"
"Once or twice?"
"Yeah."
"Where?"
"At my house."
"No, I mean where on your body," she took out a drawing of a person's outline, one of the front and one on the back. "Can you show me on this drawing all the places Keith has ever hit you?"
"Do you think I'm five? He slapped my ass. That's it."
She nodded and wrote it down.
"I thought you already talked to Keith. Didn't you make him tell you this stuff?"
She nodded. "Fine. We'll move on."
The rest of the interview went the same. She asked me stupid questions and I answered rudely. Whitey was going to kick my ass if he was still listening.
Eventually she gave up.
"Well, Lucas, as enlightening as this was, I have to go fill out paperwork about your case."
No wait! I blew it. Shit. Damage control: begin now.
She stood up and I followed. I offered her my hand. She looked surprised and took it. My hand swallowed hers.
"Listen," I started, trying hard to keep my voice even. "I'm sorry. I just want to go home. Home. To Keith. Can you give me that much?"
She nodded, still looking shocked, "I can try, Lucas."
Whitey mysteriously reappeared as we were walking to the front door. They shook hands and exchanged farewells. I wanted to call her back just so I wouldn't be left alone with Whitey. He shut the door behind her and turned slowly to look at me. I looked away.
"Well, Scott, it's good to see that you've joined us."
The other players were warming up, but passing and shooting.
"Start running. You're late."
I didn't move. He blew the whistle and then team came and slowly made a semicircle around Whitey. He looked at me, waiting for me to start running. I still didn't move.
"Lucas, I remember telling you last night and again this morning that practice starts at 3:00."
I nodded between breaths.
"Run, Luke." He said.
I looked up at him with my eyes, my head still hanging down.
"Don't give me that look, you knew what time you had to be here."
I got up and started running laps around the gym.
Whitey started yelling at the other players. Leave it to Whitey to have something completely life altering, like having one of your players move in with you, and still be able to act like nothing was different. I, however, did not seem to have that particular talent.
No one would come near me at practice. We were setting up plays and no one would follow through, they didn't want to hit me, touch me, or risk bothering me in any way.
"I'm not gonna break, dammit!" I yelled.
Everyone stared at me.
"My mom died, I don't have a disease. You're not going to get sick by coming in contact with me and I'm not going to break!"
"Sit out for a minute, Luke." Whitey said calmly, "You need to take a time out."
"What am I, five?! I'm not the one who's afraid to play!"
"Lucas. Sit." He said seriously, pointing at the bleachers.
"Forget it. Either let me play or I quit." I was still yelling, and Whitey did not appreciate me challenging him in front of the team.
"Lucas, get your ass on the bleachers!"
I walked up to Nathan and shoved the basketball in his stomach. "Take it. The team is yours. I quit."
I walked toward the metal double doors.
"Lucas!" Whitey called.
"What?! I screamed.
"Go back to my house. You're not allowed to see Keith."
"Whatever," I turned around again.
"Lucas!" I turned around and gave him a dirty look. He ran over to me.
"Do not go see Keith," he hissed in my ear.
I could feel the entire team staring at me, and all I wanted to do was run away. Run far, far away, where no one would look at me, or talk to me, and I didn't have to think about Keith or Mom, or my coach who was still whisper-yelling at me, although I was no longer listening.
He could tell I wasn't listening, "I'm serious, Luke," He grabbed my shoulder. "Do. Not. Go. See. Keith."
"I wasn't going to."
"Have a seat on the bleachers, and you can play again in a few minutes."
He stopped whispering at me and was making an effort to appear calm.
I didn't respond.
"Lucas. Take. A. Seat." He pointed to the bleachers.
I turned back toward the doors.
"Go home, then." He called after me.
That pissed me off. It didn't take a lot to set me off anymore, and he just did.
"Home? Where the hell is that?"
He sighed and spoke quietly, "Go to my house, Luke."
I shook my head, "My home is with Keith. My home is with Mom."
I ran out the doors before he could stop me.
I couldn't stop running. I ran through the school, and across the parking lot before Haley called, "Luke!"
I stopped and panted, resting my hands on my knees until she caught up with me. I was panting more from the argument with Whitey than from running. I felt so fragile. Haley ran up to me and I collapsed on her.
She patted my head as I lay on her shoulder, and she wrapped her arms around me. I wanted to cry, but I had no tears left.
Haley said nothing, just let me resume breathing at a normal pace.
"I hate life." I told her.
"No, Luke. Don't talk like that."
"Hales, I don't want to keep doing this. I don't want to go on hurting."
She led me to a picnic table and sat down with me.
"I just yelled at Whitey. I walked out on practice."
She nodded.
"He's letting me live with him, and I just blew up at him. And I cheated on Brooke. Peyton's been calling me, and I won't answer her calls. Dan, well, Dan is an asshole and I would love to hurt him."
She looked at me quizzically and I remembered that I never told her I slept with Peyton. I shook my head slightly and she got the hint. "Do you want me to get you anything?"
"Yeah, Keith."
She started to get out her cell phone.
"No, I can't see him."
"That sucks, Luke. I'm so sorry."
"Her funeral's tomorrow."
Haley nodded.
"I'm not gonna make it, Hales." She wrapped her arms around me and let me cry. She rubbed my back laid her head on my shoulder, crying along with me.
I don't know how long we sat there, holding each other.
We sat in silence after we stopped crying for at least 45 minutes. Haley was one of the few people I could sit in silence with for hours and feel like we'd talked for longer. Mom was the other one.
"Want me to take you home?" She asked finally, but the question was answered by Whitey who drove up to the picnic table.
"I finally find you, Scott."
"Congratulations." I said sarcastically.
"We don't have time for the attitude right now, Lucas, get in the car."
I stood up.
"Child Services is on their way over to the house."
"Why?"
"Does it matter? They're coming and it's going to look really bad if you are not there."
I said bye to Haley and climbed into the front seat of Whitey's car.
He didn't say anything to me for the first 5 minutes of the drive. I had to get it out of my system before I met with child services. "How long am I going to have to wait until you let me have it?"
"What?" He turned to look at me.
"For practice..." I prompted him.
"You're not quitting, Luke," he said, instead of answering my question.
"Yes I am."
"Why?"
I shrugged, "I'm just done."
"That's bullshit, Scott. Why are you really quitting?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Well that's a start."
He pulled into his driveway. "Good, they're not here yet."
I got out of the car.
"Take really quick shower and put on your best clothes. We'll continue this later."
"Great," I said sarcastically.
"You are in no position to give me attitude, Lucas."
"Sorry." I wasn't.
"Go change."
"What about you?"
"It's more important that you are presentable. I'm just playing foster parent."
"And that's working out so well," I said sarcastically again.
He pointed at me, "You're about to get slapped, Luke. Don't give me lip like that."
I just stared at him.
"Go change," he commanded again.
When I opened the door of the bathroom, just having finished my shower, Whitey called, "Lucas, the lady from child services is here."
"Be right there," I called.
I didn't have any nice clothes with me. I had one polo shirt that Brooke gave me. All of my pants hadn't been washed in weeks. Laundry was not one of my primary concerns. And living with men didn't exactly put laundry high on the list.
I pulled the polo right side out again. This was getting gross. I made a mental note to do laundry. Then I remembered that Mom's funeral was the next day. Laundry fell back down on the list of priorities.
Don't be impossible. Don't be impossible, I kept telling myself while I buttoned my shirt. When Mom got mad at me, she would always say, "Stop being impossible, Lucas." It had to mean something valuable.
My palms were sweaty. I was actually nervous. I never would have imagined that I would be meeting with a child services representative. It went so fast. I didn't know it was possible for things to go so fast and yet so slow at the same time. It seemed like months since they took me from Keith, but it was only yesterday morning.
Child Services was definitely speedy. There must not be many child custody cases in Tree Hill. Somehow I wasn't surprised.
It was not Martha Lansing who was there to interview me.
"Teresa Anderson," she stuck her hand out for me to shake it.
I took it suspiciously. These were the people who were stopping me from seeing Keith. Well, they were trying, anyway.
"I'm Lucas Scott," I told her, even though I'm sure she knew. It was somewhere on the form she had to fill out. I had been reduced to paperwork, just another custody case.
"It's nice to meet you, Lucas. Please sit down."
All three of us sat down on the couches in the living room. Whitey sat with me, and Teresa Anderson was on the other couch.
"What I understand, Lucas," she started, "is that Keith wants you to live with him. Is that what you want?"
I nodded.
"Ok, today I'm going to make sure he is a good parent for you and if all goes well, than that should be happening soon."
I nodded.
"I did run across a problem, however. Mr. Durham told me that Keith wants to adopt you."
"That's a problem?" I asked. Whitey glared at me.
She ignored me. "I spoke to your father about it and he said that it would be up to you in the end. Now I'm not sure what that means, but it seems he's supportive of the idea, which is good for you."
She may not have known what that meant, but it took Whitey all of four seconds to realize what Dan was saying. I could see the comprehension dawn on his face. Thankfully, he didn't say anything.
"Do you understand why you were taken away from..." she looked down at her paper, "...Keith in the first place?"
"No, I don't. And I doubt you do either considering you don't even know his name or any details about my case," I said rudely. I tried to stop with the attitude, albeit not very hard.
"Lucas," Whitey warned quietly.
She looked at her clipboard again.
"Save yourself the time," I told her, "he hit me. You nosy people were snooping around my house and saw him hit me once. For some reason you believe that that entitles you to take me away from my home and the last bit of family I have left. Good job. I applaud the use of our tax dollars."
She stared at me. I guess I was the first kid she had to deal with that possessed a brain.
"See why Keith hit him?" Whitey said, "Can you really blame him?"
"Thanks, Whitey, that helps."
"How about you stick with Coach or Mr. Durham." He told me, warningly. If I didn't watch it, Keith wouldn't be the only one who child services witnessed slapping me.
"Mr. Durham, could I have a minute alone with Lucas, please?"
"Sure," he said and left the room.
"Listen, Lucas, I think we got off on the wrong foot."
I said nothing.
"You're really not going to like me when we're done, but I'll ask you to please cooperate. I have a lot of power in getting you what you want if you work with me."
I raised an eyebrow. "What do I have to do?"
"I have several questions I need to ask you about Keith, and I need you to answer honestly. I already talked to Keith and asked him the same questions. Any inconsistencies look suspicious, so tell me the truth."
I nodded. How many times had she read those same lines off? They sounded so rehearsed.
"Ready?"
"Yeah, go ahead."
"What exactly happened the morning that Keith hit you?"
"I was being an ass- a jerk to him."
She nodded, urging me to continue, "I, uh, stayed the night at this girl's house without telling him and he was really angry with me. He yelled at me, and when I yelled back, he slapped me. Once. That's it. You guys took it way out of proportion."
"I hope that's the case, Lucas."
I nodded.
"Tell me something else. Was that the first time that Keith has hit you?"
I nodded. She scanned her papers.
"Keith gave a different answer. You can't protect him, Lucas. Do you want to try again?"
"Can you restate the question?"
"Was that the first time that Keith has hit you?" She repeated slower and louder.
"I'm not deaf or stupid, but as close as we've gotten in the 15 minutes that I've known you, I really don't feel comfortable talking to you about this," I was being rude and I knew it. The sad thing was I really didn't care. These people took me away from my home, they could put up with my attitude. She was trying to remain calm, although a slow stream of steam was starting to escape her ears.
"I'm sorry, Lucas, but I need you to answer the question. It is crucial to determining whether your situation with Keith is going to work out."
"How is that crucial? Tell me, did your dad ever hit you?"
She looked shocked, "I don't see how that is relevant to your case."
"Well, you think the amount of times that a man hits his child is indirectly correlated with how good a parent he is. And so I ask you if your dad ever hit you."
There was more steam starting to come from her ears. Whitey shouted from the other room, "Answer the damn question, Luke!"
Teresa looked like she should tell Whitey not to listen in, but she was thankful for his words. She raised an eyebrow as if to say, "Told you."
"No, alright, it was not the first time. Keith is like my father. We've had our fights. He spanked me once or twice when I was little. So?"
"Once or twice?"
"Yeah."
"Where?"
"At my house."
"No, I mean where on your body," she took out a drawing of a person's outline, one of the front and one on the back. "Can you show me on this drawing all the places Keith has ever hit you?"
"Do you think I'm five? He slapped my ass. That's it."
She nodded and wrote it down.
"I thought you already talked to Keith. Didn't you make him tell you this stuff?"
She nodded. "Fine. We'll move on."
The rest of the interview went the same. She asked me stupid questions and I answered rudely. Whitey was going to kick my ass if he was still listening.
Eventually she gave up.
"Well, Lucas, as enlightening as this was, I have to go fill out paperwork about your case."
No wait! I blew it. Shit. Damage control: begin now.
She stood up and I followed. I offered her my hand. She looked surprised and took it. My hand swallowed hers.
"Listen," I started, trying hard to keep my voice even. "I'm sorry. I just want to go home. Home. To Keith. Can you give me that much?"
She nodded, still looking shocked, "I can try, Lucas."
Whitey mysteriously reappeared as we were walking to the front door. They shook hands and exchanged farewells. I wanted to call her back just so I wouldn't be left alone with Whitey. He shut the door behind her and turned slowly to look at me. I looked away.