Chapter Six
Terrence sifted through his collection of t-shirts fussily, trying to find just the right one. Choosing one was made even harder by the fact that all his clothes were haphazardly jammed into his dresser drawers, but he didn't have time to worry about that now. He had to pick something to wear for the concert tonight.
It was the Saturday morning after the last day of Terrence's classes. Mom had given Terrence a surprise at breakfast, granting him a one-day reprieve from his grounding today. He knew this wasn't just a reward for passing his classes (the letter to that effect hadn't yet arrived of course but it was a given with his fair grades), but had something to do with the fact that he and Mac hadn't fought once since Mac had allegedly given him a bloody nose. The whole ruse had turned out to be rather fun, actually - Terrence relished the look of surprise everyone always got when they inquired about his bruised face (they did finally start asking him at school) and he told them little Mac had done it. Last Sunday Mom had taken both of them with her to the grocery store and Terrence took great delight in slapping Mac on the back all day and introducing him to everyone as "Killer." At one point he even got Mac to join him in a "Dramatic Reenactment" for the entertainment of a couple of Mom's friends who worked in the deli department. Word had spread all over town via kidgossip that "Tough Terrence," the ringleader of the Dirty Half-Dozen, had been clobbered by his eight-year-old kid brother, and both boys found it all rather funny.
Terrence was dreadfully relieved about having the day off from his restriction; this meant that he didn't have to sneak out for tonight's concert and risk getting in some real trouble - which he was willing to do. Chess was really counting on him. Besides, Terrence was looking forward to it. And it was a plus that the bruising on his face had faded significantly and he no longer looked like he'd been used as a punching bag by King Kong.
But that wasn't good enough - he wanted his clothes to look good too. Of course there was no way he was going to wear his slacks, dress shirt, and a tie - that's what all the other boys were bound to show up in, and he wanted to be different. Without Mom going, he was free to wear whatever he wanted. Unfortunately he had told Mac to tell Frankie to throw out his favorite red flannel shirt as it was beyond ruined - surprisingly Mom never asked him where it had disappeared to (this was actually because she had always hated it and was glad to see it was gone). He'd felt a little weird without it these past two weeks but there was nothing for it now.
Terrence pulled some jeans from the bottom drawer of the dresser and pulled them on after changing out of the ones he was currently wearing. At least he had a clean pair. But he just couldn't settle on a shirt. And he fervently wished he had some new sneakers...his once-white shoes had slowly turned a dismal grey over the past couple of months. Too bad he hadn't had a recent growth spurt - then Mom would have taken him shopping. He was stuck with his current wardrobe. But his clothing woes weren't enough to dampen the good mood he was in.
"Knock knock." Mom was outside.
"Come in," was the cheerful reply.
Mom stepped inside and shut the door behind herself. "Honey, I'm doing laundry today," she said. "Make sure to put your dirty jeans in the hamper. Your pj's too."
"Yeah, I will."
Mom sat on the bed and motioned for him to sit beside her, which he did, intrigued at her mischievous smile. "What?" he prompted her, smiling back.
She grinned and ruffled his hair, and he was in too good a mood to pretend he didn't like it. "I'm really proud of you, you know," she said.
"Yeah."
"You know what you're going to do with your day off?"
Terrence grinned wider. "Kinda," he replied.
"Listen," said Mom. "I wanted to give you something." She pulled some money out of her pocket and handed it to her son. Terrence boggled. It was two fifty-dollar bills.
"Mom, this is a hundred bucks!" he exclaimed.
Mom nodded. "You know how your father always sends you boys' birthday checks early; well, I thought I'd just give you the money this year."
"But...my birthday isn't until next month."
"Yes, but...you've worked so hard, I thought you'd like it now." Suddenly Mom was surprised by Terrence throwing his arms about her, and she smiled and hugged him back. She knew he was a teenager now and figured himself "too old" for hugs, but she missed how affectionate he used to be. He often accepted hugs from her, but it was very rare these days that he gave her one.
Terrence quickly removed his glasses so he could press himself closer to Mom, and he let her hold him for a while. She was a lifesaver, giving him this money; now he could pick up some new clothes. "Thanks Mom," he said earnestly. "Thanks a lot."
Mom sighed and rubbed his back, touched. "You're welcome, sweetie," she said.
"But," said Terrence, pulling back a little, "do you really want me walking around with a hundred dollars in my pocket?"
Mom gave him a serious look. "Maybe you should hire your brother to protect you for the day," she said.
There was silence for a moment; then they both laughed.
Terrence got up, putting his glasses back on, and headed for the door. "Well I'm going to the mall," he said.
"Terrence, your jeans."
"Oh yeah." Terrence grabbed the dirty jeans off of the floor.
"And your pj's."
Terrence grabbed those too, shooting Mom an angelic look.
"Will you be home in time for dinner?"
"Um." Terrence paused. "I don't think so."
Mom smiled at him. "That's okay," she said. "We'll see you later. Have fun today."
"I will. Thanks Mom."
"Oh and Terrence," she called after him as she walked to her own room, "can you get your school stuff out of the living room?" He had left his backpack propped up against the couch.
"Sure Mom." He opened the hall closet to stuff the dirty clothes in the hamper, and then went into the living room. Mac was sitting on the couch.
"Hey, Terrence."
"Hey nerdmagnet," Terrence replied mildly, reaching for the backpack. "Not going to the freak factory today?" He picked up the backpack and papers cascaded everywhere - he'd forgotten to zip it up. Grumbling, he dropped to his hands and knees to stuff everything back in.
Mac made a face at the name Terrence had called Fosters. "I am," he said. "I just...well...Frankie's been asking about you, and Wilt's organizing a basketball game after the adoptions, and...you're off restriction..."
"Yeah, so?" grunted Terrence, feeling around under the couch in case anything'd slipped under there.
"So...You want to go?"
Terrence lurched to his feet, zipping the backpack. "Do I want to go where?"
"To Foster's."
"What?" Terrence looked at his little brother in confusion. "What for?"
Mac heaved a sigh. Sometimes he couldn't tell if Terrence was really that thick or if he simply didn't pay attention. "Just...to hang out," he summarized.
Terrence smirked. "With you?" He ducked down the hallway to throw his backpack into his room. "Sorry, runt," he went on as he reentered the living room. "I got my own agenda."
"Oh." Mac tried not to look disappointed. "Okay." He was hoping he could get Terrence and Bloo together, and start working on making them get along. Maybe, if he was lucky, Bloo could be home by Christmas. But it looked like he wasn't going to get a chance to start until Terrence's grounding was over - at the end of Summer. Maybe he could try again then.
"Well, see ya, Killer," Terrence threw over his shoulder as he left the apartment and headed for the mall.
When he strutted into the auditorium later that afternoon, Terrence basked in the envious glances he was getting from the other students. As he had expected, they had all been forced to wear "dressy" clothes by their parents. Terrence was the only one in street clothes, although they were brand-new: dark blue baggy jeans (complete with wallet chain), a black logo t-shirt over a grey longsleeve, and new sneakers (he'd found some on sale, luckily). He couldn't resist a necklace made of nuts and bolts he found at Hot Topic and bought that too. And figuring he was moving up in the world (i.e., going to high school), he had gone for a haircut, axing the mullet. Chess expressed his approval - he always did like to see kids stand out in a crowd.
Right before the students filed to their seats on the stage and the lights went down, Terrence peeked out into the audience to ease his mind. No Mom. He didn't like hiding things from her any more than Mac did, but to be fair he was much more used to it. And in this case, he was very glad he hadn't told her anything. He didn't think he'd be able to play if he knew she was there.
Naturally, with only two pieces, the concert was very short - roughly forty-five minutes if you included Chess's introductions of each and every student at the end. Terrence got a little extra applause but he figured everyone was just being polite since he had had a solo.
As soon as everyone was off the stage and Terrence had put the cello away, he grabbed the bag containing his old clothes and headed for the door as the student's families started filtering backstage. Chess intercepted him.
"Family couldn't make it, huh?"
"Um...nah."
"Too bad...too bad. You looked mighty sharp up there. Sounded okay too."
"Thanks."
Chess got a serious look. "Listen, Terrence," he began, "don't run off just yet. There's something I'd like to - "
"Terrence Spencer Vaughn."
The voice made Terrence's heart drop into his stomach. Striding towards him, with Mac in tow, was Mom. Her expression was entirely unreadable; she either wanted to hug him, or she wanted to stab him in the eye with an icepick. Either would be embarrassing.
Mac, on the other hand, was grinning broadly.
"Terrence," intoned Mom, stopping in front of her son, not even seeming to see Chess. "What on Earth." That said, she released Mac's wrist and folded her arms, waiting expectantly for an explanation.
Seeing that the boy seemed to need rescuing, Chess stepped around Mom so she would notice him. "Ms. Vaughn?" he asked her.
"Wh - Yes," she glanced at him.
"I'm Seymour Chesline, Terrence's teacher." He held out a hand and Mom shook it automatically while shooting Terrence a look that indicated she still wanted that explanation. "Nice to meet you," she monotoned.
"I hope you enjoyed the program," Chess went on warmly.
"Oh...yes." Mom kept gazing at Terrence, who stared back at her the way a possum might regard an oncoming Mack truck.
"I know you must be very proud of Terrence, he worked extremely hard."
Mom stared at Terrence. She opened her mouth to say something to him but Mac suddenly popped up between them.
"OhmygoshTerrencethatwassoawesome!" he squealed, unable to contain himself any longer. "I mean, that was one of the coolest things I've ever seen! You're so good! I don't believe it! Hey! I like your hair! Are those new clothes?"
Terrence blinked down at him. "Um," he said intelligently.
"Who's this?" Chess prompted kindly.
"Huh?" Terrence looked at the teacher. "Oh. This is my brother Mac."
"Good to know you," said Chess, shaking Mac's hand. "Couldn't your other brother make it?"
"There's only the two of us," replied Mac in confusion.
Chess raised an eyebrow; he pointed at Mac and gave Terrence a questioning look. Terrence nodded. Chess looked back at down at the eight-year-old. "Get back," he said. "You give your brother that bruise?"
"Oh, uh...yeah. It was kind of an accident."
"It always is." Chess grinned. "Ms. Vaughn," he turned his attention back to Mom, "I'm glad you could make it. I'd like to talk to you."
Mom, resigned that she wasn't going to get an explanation right away, decided to take whatever information she could get. "Okay," she said.
"Now, as you know, Terrence has a real aptitude for music," Chess began, and Mom threw a brief accusing look at her son, who shuffled his feet nervously. "I was hoping that you both might consider his attending Tillman next year."
"What?" said Mom, Terrence, and Mac in unison.
Chess pulled a brochure from his vest. "Entrance to the Tillman music program is by audition," he explained, handing the brochure to Mom. "Criteria isn't as strict as many think; although Terrence has only been playing for six weeks, I do believe he could get in with a solid audition. What you need to know about the audition piece is in there - type, length, time and place." He gestured at the brochure. "He'd have three weeks to put something together, it's short notice but I think he could do it, and I'll be here on Saturdays if he wants to come in for help. You'll need to rent a cello." Chess produced a business card from a pocket and handed it over. "I recommend these folks, plus my initials on the back of the card there will get you a discount."
Mom juggled the brochure and the card dazedly. "Thank you," she said. "We'll...look into it."
Chess smiled. "Well, I have to greet the other families." He touched Terrence on the shoulder. "Bravo, Spencer," he said with a wink, and walked away.
Mom and Mac turned to Terrence expectantly.
"Well?" prompted Mom. She sounded faintly amused.
But Terrence wanted quid pro quo. "How did you know?" he demanded.
Mom sighed. "I'm always telling you boys to empty your pockets before you put your jeans in the wash." She fished a folded, crumpled sheet of yellow paper from her purse and held it up. It was the announcement for the concert he was supposed to give her weeks ago. If he had gotten it weeks ago, how could it have been in his jeans pocket today? Terrence was mystified, but chalked it up to somehow being yet another stupid thing he was guilty of doing. "We got here late, but it was better than not at all, though I wish I'd had my camera. Now spill it," Mom prompted him, stuffing the flyer, brochure, and card into her purse.
Terrence heaved a massive sigh. "I'm sorry," he said. "I needed extra credit. I just...didn't want to bother you with it."
Mom shook her head. "Honey, Tweedledee exercises better logic than you do sometimes," she said bluntly, making Mac chuckle. "So those two hours at the 'Library' after school every day..?"
"Class and practice," mumbled Terrence in reply, dropping his gaze.
Mom shook her head again; then she threw her arms around her son. "Honey, you were wonderful up there," she broke down at last
"You were awesome, Terrence," Mac agreed.
"I...messed up on some of the follow-throughs," Terrence said lamely. Mom laughed and held him at arm's length. "Baby, it was perfect," she assured him.
Terrence hooked his thumbs in his pockets and slouched a little. "So...are you gonna kill me or not?" he asked the burning question.
"Let me sleep on it."
As they walked out to the car, Mom asked Terrence if he wanted to try the audition.
"I dunno," said Terrence noncommittally. "It's kind of a geek school, you know."
Mom rolled her eyes. "Don't generalize," she chastised him. "Do you like playing music?"
Terrence shrugged as if he didn't care, but his voice betrayed him in the barely-noticeable enthusiasm contained in his quick reply of "Yeah."
"Then there's no harm in giving it a try."
"But Mom," said Terrence, opening the passenger-side car door after she had unlocked it, "there's only three weeks. I know I'm grounded, but even I have better things to do all day than practice some boring suite over and over."
"Come on, Terrence," piped up Mac, opening the rear passenger-side door. "You can do it no problem."
"Yeah? How do you know?"
"Because," said Mac seriously, looking up at his big brother innocently, "there's always room for cello."
End Part I