DISCLAIMER: The characters are the property of Bellasarius Productions, Vivendi and anyone else involved with Quantum Leap.
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STREET KID
Al was dressed in an old tee-shirt of Joey's. He closed the chem book and sat back in his chair, "Not bad, O'Brien, You caught on a lot faster than I thought you would."
A smile crossed Sam's lips. How he wished he could tell the teen about Quantum Leap and exactly who he was and who Al was going to be, but none of that was possible. So, instead he just said, "Thanks. You're a good teacher," and let it go.
Without any announcement, Joey's little sister Colleen barged into the room. "Mom said it's time to eat in ten minutes and you have to wash up."
Al smiled at the eight year old and said, "Thank you, Colleen."
She walked over to young Al. "Are you really an orphan?"
Sam jumped in "Colleen, shut up. That's not nice."
Al didn't mind little sisters. He had one of his own and he missed her very much. "It's okay, Joey. Yeah, I'm an orphan. I don't have any parents."
Colleen kept prying. "How come?"
Believing what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, Al answered. "My father died when I was 10 and my mother, my mother sort of left."
The little girl was confused. "What do you mean left?"
Sam knew how much this stuff hurt Al and he wanted it to stop. "Colleen, shut up."
"My mother ran out on me and my sister."
Colleen kept at it. "Where's your sister?"
There was never any reason to apologize for his sister and he felt no shame in saying he had special needs. "In an institution for people who are retarded."
"Is your sister a moron?"
The line had been crossed. Al snapped, "No, and don't you ever call her that again."
"You're a moron too." then she stuck her tongue out at the boys.
Sam pushed the little girl out of the room. "She's stupid."
"Trudy's a good kid. I hate when people tease her and I'm not going to apologize for her either."
Sam wanted to find out more about Al's sister. "When did you see her last?"
"Christmas. I ran away during break and managed to get to Willowbrook and spend some time with her before I got caught. She always cries when I leave." He was faraway all of a sudden. "It's a terrible place, Joey. Her clothes are always wrinkled and dirty, and her hair, I don't think they wash her hair very much." He started to gather up his books. "The world stinks."
Sam was saddened by this boy. "I'm sorry, Al. Things will get better for you." As he said the words, Sam flashed on Al's eight years in a prison camp, on Beth leaving him, on his battle with alcohol. Eventually things would get better, but they sure weren't going to get any easier.
Al's mind's eye brought his pictures of his baby sister. "I really miss Trudy, you know."
"I can see that."
Al started shaking his head. "Why the hell am I telling you all this stuff, O'Brien? We may talk every once in awhile, but you really can't say we're buddy-buddy."
"Sometimes you have to trust people just by gut instinct. That's how I feel about you. I mean, you're a surly little runt, but I trust you."
Al smiled. "I got a right to be surly. Everyone is making decisions for my life except me."
"You talking about the seminary?"
"Yeah. I'm not going to go, Joey." For the first time, Al was really talking to a friend. There were no defense mechanisms in place. He straightforwardly declared, "I can't go to seminary. Geez, me a priest. Would you go to me for confession?"
Remembering that he was a 16 year old boy, Sam nodded, "You'd probably be easy."
"Damn straight. I guess we have to wash up. Your mother's waiting." He got up and walked toward the door.
Sam internally debated whether or not he should speak up, but he had to. He looked at Al and met the young boy's penetrating eyes. Somehow, they looked decades older than the Admiral's. "I know you don't want to be a priest and they can't make you, but don't run away. It isn't safe out there alone."
"I've done it before and anyhow, you can't be safe all the time, Joey. Nothing good happens if you play it safe." He faced Sam. "If you expect to be anybody, you have to push the limits."
"There's a difference between pushing limits and being stupid." He heard the words before they actually came out of his mouth and he couldn't stop them even though he knew better. It was the wrong thing to say, but it had been said.
Al's defenses came back faster than the Seasbiscuit on his best day. "So you think I'm stupid."
Sam wanted to tell him what was going to happen, but the little cynic wouldn't believe him. He'd laugh it all off and that would be that. He talked to the boy as Sam would talk to him. "Just listen to me. You're real smart and street smart too, but that isn't enough. You're still . . ." Still what? Sam tried to figure out what to say, finally hitting on the obvious. "You're awfully small. It wouldn't take much to beat the crap out of you. Hell, I could do it right now if I wanted."
Anger burned in Al's eyes and his body tensed up in defense. "What the hell do you know? I can outrun you any day."
Sam tried to be confrontational. "Big deal. Try to get away from me now. We're in a closed room." It was a challenge and it could get Joey grounded for a year, but it would be worth it to save Al's life. "Go on. Try to get away from me."
The challenge was accepted and Al reached for the doorknob. Sam used his own coordination to grab the boy and worked at controlling the wiry body. Al was a fighter and even with Sam's skill in martial arts, it took every bit of his strength to contain him, but in the end, Sam won and Al was on the floor of the room, Sam straddled him, pinning his shoulders. "Al, you think you can win every fight? Well, you can't. Running away isn't the answer to everything. Sometimes you have to stay and face things. Sometimes that's the harder and better thing to do."
Years of pain, anger, and sadness all came forward. "Get the hell off me. You made your point." Sam let Al up. Al winced at the pain in his side, made even worse by Sam wrestling him to the floor. "So now I know I can't take care of myself. I guess we're even, Joey. You understand chem better and I know I'm worse off than I thought." He walked toward the desk where his books lay. "I think I'd better get back to the orphanage."
Sam took the books from Al. "No, please stay. I'm sorry. It's just that I don't want you to get hurt and I got a bad feeling about this, I mean, if you run away."
"So do I, but it doesn't matter." He really meant he didn't matter to anyone else. From the kitchen came the call for dinner. "I'm not very hungry. I'm going back to the orphanage."
"Please, my mom's expecting you and my dad still needs to take a look at the bruise," Sam realized he just jumped on the young boy, "which I think I bashed again." Al didn't want to admit that he was hurting even more than ever. Sam pleaded, "Don't go home yet."
The walls between them were up again. "You keep forgetting. I don't have a home. I have an orphanage. There's a big difference."
"Dinner's ready. I know the food here has to be better than what's waiting for you there."
"No doubt."
Sam smiled at the phrase which the Admiral used so often. It had become a habit long ago, when he was just a child. "So you'll stay?" Al sheepishly nodded. "Just one thing. Don't tell my folks I tackled you, again. I'll get grounded for a year."
"So, I got something on you. This is a good thing to know. Let's go eat."
The Imaging Chamber door opened behind Sam. "Why don't you go on in. My mom won't look at your hands, but she might check mine. I got to . . . you know." Al walked out and Sam closed the door.
St. John spoke first, "You have any new information we can explore?"
"I thought that was my question. You're the one with the computer."
"Well, Alpha doesn't have anything. How is young Master Calavicci?"
Sam felt such sadness. "St. John, we have to do something here. He needs help. I'm not sure I'm getting through to him."
"According to Alpha, he still dies. No one sees him after Dr. O'Brien drives him home. We have to stop whoever kills him. Go have dinner. I'll try to work up some scenarios for you, but I'm coming up against one dead end after another." St. John left and Sam couldn't help but think there had to be a better choice of words than "dead end."
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He hated when a girl's breasts turned out to be padding in a push up bra. There was something appealing about a pre-teen with tits. They usually hated their bigness, but that meant the humiliation they felt when you screwed them was even better. She lied about having a chest. It was all fake and his disappointment led to anger. There was only one way to take care of anger. He knew holding it in was self-destructive so he released it. She screamed and cried and his anger settled down. Dave and Paul got some good pictures. The photos would sell for big money, especially the ones where the boy raped her. He just found the kids and brought them in. They were street kids and no one cared about them. They were better off dead, so he was doing everyone a favor. Why shouldn't he make a little extra cash off the street kids?
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Dinner had finished. Al was a polite guest. At first, he reminded Sam of some kid on television, some kid named Eddie Haskell who could snowball all the parents, but who was really hell on wheels. Then he began to see that Al was simply trying to fit into the family. Dr. O'Brien came in late, as they were finishing up. Al was helping clear the dishes when he entered. Joey's mom introduced them. "Mike, this is Al Calavicci. Al, this is Dr. O'Brien."
Al held out his hand and Joey's father took it and smiled. "I've heard a lot about you from Joey. He says you're a smart young man."
"I guess I like school."
Dr. O'Brien smiled as Sam entered the room. "Good for you. Maybe some of that will rub off on my son. He could need a little more interest in school."
Sam's eyes rolled in teenaged embarrassment. "Dad, come on."
Joey's mother intervened, "Mike, before I get your dinner, would you take a look at Al. He fell in gym class today and he has a bad bruise on his side."
Al was uncomfortable with the idea of the doctor checking him out. There was nothing Dr. O'Brien could do anyhow. Sam interjected, "He fell onto the pommel on the horse. He got the wind knocked out of him. Then I guess we were playing around after school a little and I sort of tackled him and he sort of fell against a fire hydrant."
"Good job, Joe." Dr. O'Brien put a hand on Al's shoulder. "Why don't you come with me and I'll take a look at that bruise." Al was guided into Joey's room. Sam watched from the doorway. Dr. O'Brien sat on the bed, "Let's take a look, son."
"Yes, sir." Al pulled off the borrowed tee-shirt and exposed an ugly bruise that by now was purple and almost black.
"Wow. You did a good job here." He began to gently push on the area. Al held back any expression of pain. "Does that hurt?"
Al bit his lower lip. "No, sir."
"I'm not sure I believe you, Al." He pressed harder. "How about that?" A slight grimace flashed over his face. "Thought so." Another few minutes of poking and prodding gave Dr. O'Brien enough information to declare, "I think what you have here is a bruised rib. Tomorrow, start putting some warm compresses on it and the bruise will start to go away. If you start having any other trouble, get to a hospital. but I don't think that will happen. Okay?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
The doctor smiled at the rigidity of the boy's manners. "You're a polite one, aren't you."
Like a fish out of water, that's how Al felt. "I guess so. I mean, yes, sir."
"Al, this isn't military school. Relax." Dr. O'Brien smiled at the boy and closed the conversation. "When you're ready to go, I'll give you a lift home. Tutor my kid, okay?"
"Yes, sir." Al smiled half-heartedly, the doctor left. "Your dad is okay. He wants us to study more." Al moved toward the books.
Sam was sort of surprised at Al's willingness to conform to his father's off the cuff remark. "I don't think he meant we have to study now. Want to watch television or something?"
Mischief suddenly reappeared in Al's eyes. "Want to go out, maybe? We're not far from Washington Square. It's only 6:30."
Sam didn't want Al out on any streets. The idea that Dr. O'Brien would drive him back to the orphanage made him very comfortable and he didn't want to jeopardize that. " Let's stay here."
"We can bankroll our ten bucks into maybe fifty at Washington Square."
This sounded like more illegal shenanigans. "How?"
"Ever hear of speed chess?"
Sam Beckett had definitely heard of speed chess and had even played the game with adult Al. In this special kind of chess, Al had the edge. In slow, deliberate games, Sam was almost always the victor, but Al was a quick aggressor and in pressure situations, like speed chess, he could outmaneuver Sam nearly every time. Joey, however, probably didn't even know how to play the game, so just to be safe he said, "What's speed chess?"
"It's when you play chess real fast. There's none of this waiting 30 minutes for someone to make a move. A whole game takes maybe a minute and a half. You can make a lot of money playing speed chess."
"You play?"
"Yeah, and I'm good. I can beat just a few of the Saturday morning regulars, but I sure can take the uptown set that makes their way into Washington Square on Friday nights."
"Could you teach me to play chess? I'm not sure if we have a set." Teaching Joey to play chess would take the rest of the evening. Sam's biggest problem would be trying to fake the fact that he already knew the game.
Joey wasn't biting and Al wanted something to do that was pure fun. "You got no sense of adventure, O'Brien. You want to stay home on a Friday night and learn how to play chess. Geez, what about girls? Let's go looking for girls." Sam almost agreed to this one. As a teen, he was shy and awkward around most people, but especially girls. Taking a lesson from young Al could make Joey's future more interesting, but he had to squelch that idea, too. Al shook his head. "My last night as a free man and I don't even get to fool around." He looked at Joey with a crooked gaze, "O'Brien, you do know about sex, don't you?"
In his head, Sam sighed "Oh, boy." Out loud he sort of pawed at the ground and mumbled, "Yeah. I know about sex and stuff."
Ammunition was thrown right at Al. By 13, young Al was, unfortunately, well versed in sex. "You still a virgin?" Sam saw the question coming and didn't know what to do. he thought the best answer was to say proudly that he still was a virgin and it didn't bother him at all. Maybe he could influence young Al to slow down. It didn't seem to work. "You don't know what you're missing, Joe. Girls are God's gift to the world. You want to go find a couple of hookers? They're everywhere and some of them don't cost much at all."
"I don't think I want to have sex with a hooker. I want to be in love with the girl."
"Yeah, well, that would be nice, but it won't ever happen for me, so I get it where and when I can. There's this girl at the orphanage who's pretty hot. Her name is Diana. If I was home, I'd be sneaking off with her. God, I hope I get laid one last time before seminary on Monday."
Thirteen year old Al's flippant attitude toward sex bothered Sam, but he was relieved to hear Al was planning on the seminary. "So you're going to go?"
"Still haven't made up my mind. I'm old enough now to make it on my own. The only thing that bothers me is leaving Trudy. If I run away, I can't go back to her for another two years. I got to be of age or my probation officer will ship me to the reformatory." Al sat down on the bed as dejected as Sam had seen him since they met. "I can't go back there, Joey. I can't go back to the orphanage. I hate it."
Joey wouldn't know what to say in a situation like this, but Sam didn't have any ideas either. He just opened his mouth and prayed the right words would come out. "You only have another couple of years there. The seminary will at least keep you in school. You have to stay in school. You're too smart to be a dropout. You know what you can do if you get an education?" Joey's suspended airplanes provided an insight for him. He gently pushed one. "I bet you could fly airplanes and space ships, too."
"Yeah, me and Flash Gordon."
Sam looked him in the eye and spoke from his own heart. "You remember this day, Calavicci. You remember that Joey O'Brien said you would fly to the moon and the whole world will call you a hero."
The look on Al's face was worth the breach in Quantum Leap protocol. Al became a boy again, a boy with dreams of a hero's future. At last he looked 13, not 40. Even though it lasted only a moment, it proved to Sam that hope was still possible for the sad, young man.
"That's imagination, O'Brien, real imagination."
"You need to remember that I have very little imagination. You're the creative one. Don't let anyone beat you down. So what if the nuns ship you to seminary? Use the education you get for what you want. From what I hear, seminaries provide real good schooling."
Al was starting to really listen. "You know, Joey, you're not as stupid as you look."
The smile on Al's face told Sam that the comment was as close to a thank you as he was going to get. "Hey, neither are you, Allllbuuuuuurrrrtoooooo." Sam had achieved something monumental. He convinced young Al Calavicci that the future was expecting his participation. All thought of running away vanished.
With a playful, devilish gleam in his eye, Al gave Sam a little push. "Don't call me Alberto."
Sam pushed back. "Yeah? So what should I call you?"
Al jumped onto the chair, put his hands on his hips like a comic book hero and declared, "Call me Michelangelo!"
"What?"
He dropped down onto the seat of the chair. "Michelangelo. It's my middle name."
Of course, Sam knew that fact, but right now, he was a 16 year old kid named Joey and Joey found the whole scene highly amusing. He was laughing so hard he could barely talk. "Michelangelo? Didn't your parents like you?" He could have hit himself for that crack.
Al shrugged, "Doesn't look like it, but what the hell, Michelangelo Calavicci is one hell of a good stage name. I think I'll be an actor. Let's see - Michelangelo Calavicci in Gone with the Wind - The Carpetbagger Years."
"Michelangelo Calavicci as Rhett Butler? Uh-uh." Sam walked over to the box of sports equipment and pulled out a basketball. "You want to shoot some hoops?" Al's eyes sparked again.
The two boys left the apartment and ended up in the alley where a hoop was suspended. For Al, it was boyish play, the kind he had experienced far too infrequently. For Sam, it was a reliving of the hours he and Al spent playing Horse under the New Mexico sky after a long day's work on Star Bright and later Quantum Leap.
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The phone was ringing relentlessly. Finally, giving into the clamor, the man answered, "Yeah?" A voice on the other end said there was a young boy available if the man wanted. "Street kid?" Once assured that no one cared, the man agreed to take delivery.
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