A Street Over and a World Away
Chapter 3: The First Days
Since he was grounded, Jackson spent the weekend in his room studying and brooding, actively avoiding his parents' attempts to get him to interact with Isaac. Just because he was stuck at home didn't mean he had to acknowledge the loser who was ruining his life.
The extra studying was mostly unnecessary. Jackson was a straight-A student who was diligent about staying on top of his assignments. He spent Friday preparing for all the tests he had the next week and Saturday completing all the class projects that had already been assigned. Sunday as he was irritably flipping through his course syllabi trying to get an early jump on upcoming material, he wondered for the hundredth time that weekend why he wasn't enough for his parents, why they felt the need to bring Isaac Pathetic-Loser Lahey into their household.
Jackson was better than Isaac in every way. He was captain of the lacrosse team; he was stronger, faster, and more coordinated than Isaac. With the exception of his girlfriend, Lydia Martin, and a couple of nerds with no lives, Jackson was also the best student in their grade; he was much smarter than Isaac, who barely scraped by in most of the classes they shared. He was popular and good-looking; Isaac had no friends and dressed like a homeless person. What in hell could Isaac possibly offer that Jackson couldn't? It wasn't personality. Jackson actually had one, whereas Isaac pretty much refused to speak to anyone unless he had no choice.
There was really only one thing it could be: Jackson wasn't actually his parents' son and never could be. Isaac wasn't either, but maybe they hoped to fill the void of an actual son with two partial sons. Jackson wished someone had told him ahead of time. He had spent his whole life trying to measure up to invisible standards he could never meet; he was still trying to accomplish something that would create that missing connection that could only be formed with real family.
It was an emptiness he had always felt. When he was a kid he didn't have the words for it, just a nagging sense that he felt incomplete. Once his parents told him he was adopted it suddenly made sense. Jackson was incomplete because he was missing family, true family. He knew his parents loved him – he loved them too if he were honest – but they would never be enough for each other.
Isaac Lahey damn well wasn't going to fix that.
-000-
Thursday night when he had been in the hospital, Isaac had been so heavily medicated and exhausted from his secret coming out that he'd had a deep, mostly dreamless night's sleep. Friday night was a different story.
Friday night, Isaac slept on the couch in the Whittemores' parlor. It was by far the most pleasant couch he had ever tried to sleep on. It was soft but offered good support, and it was huge, easily accommodating his long frame and wide shoulders with room to spare. Nevertheless, he barely managed a combined hour and a half of fitful sleep for the whole night. Physically he couldn't get comfortable because his ribs, chest, and back were sore and bruised; no matter which way he turned or stretched, he was always straining something. The casts on his arm and leg and the splint on his hand were also heavy, restrictive, and all around difficult to get used to.
Yet it was his emotional discomfort that truly kept him from getting any rest. Nothing in his life was right; he had lost everything. He was basically homeless despite the grand mansion he found himself lying in. He wasn't sure he would ever see his dad again, and maybe it was messed up considering the way the man had treated Isaac, but that really bothered him. His dad was the only family he had left and no amount of abuse or neglect would ever make Isaac stop loving him. He also hated that his brother's room wasn't still across the hall. Camden's room was all Isaac had of him, but now it was gone; Isaac's whole life was gone, including the physical reminders of every happy memory he had ever had.
On Saturday morning the Whittemores 'woke him up' – he pretended to be asleep so they wouldn't think he was ungrateful for the couch – and took him upstairs to see his new room. It was a surreal experience ascending the opulent marble staircase that led from the ground floor up to the second level of the home. The staircase was broad enough for the Whittemores to walk astride him, with their manservent, Grant, hovering behind him in case he slipped on his crutches. Near the top, the staircase opened onto an expansive landing with two smaller staircases branching off on each side. The group took the left branch and entered a long hallway paved in a plush, pristine light blue carpet. Even in his house slippers, Isaac was terrified of staining it; he couldn't imagine traversing it in regular shoes. Along the way Mrs. Whittemore gestured at the various rooms they passed, explaining their purposes and promising Isaac a more complete tour once he was better. Isaac cringed as she pointed out Jackson's room then steered him directly across the hall to what would be his new room. Great, Jackson was still his neighbor but now instead of a street separating them it was only a hallway.
Isaac was at a loss for words as he entered the bedroom he would be using. It was already filled with most of his things from his real room at home, and it was set up in more or less the same configuration it had been, but it was...wrong. Everything looked off in this new, much larger space, like his things themselves were too small. There were new additions too. A giant flatscreen TV was mounted to the wall across from Isaac's bed and an entertainment center underneath was stocked with the newest X-Box and several popular game titles.
Did the Whittemores always keep a guest room stocked with the latest gaming equipment or had they gone out – or more likely sent Grant or Vicky out – specifically to get it for him?
Next to the larger unit was Isaac's old entertainment center, turned sideways and holding his TV and older console and games. Had bringing them over been a formality? Was he expected to get rid of them?
His old desk hadn't made the trip at all. In the corner that it should have occupied sat a larger, fancier desk in a L-configuration. On one side he spied his familiar laptop, but a new iPad lay next to it, and in the center of the desk a monitor and speaker system had been setup, presumably linking to the desktop unit he saw on the floor beside his desk chair.
An open doorway revealed that Isaac had his own en-suite bathroom, and a second door opened into a walk-in closet containing all his clothes and the other items he'd kept in his closet at home. It was barely a quarter filled, whereas his smaller closet at home had been brimming full. The empty space made Isaac feel inadequate somehow.
At least his bed was right. The comforter and bedding were his own, the frame was his, and when he sat on the edge he recognized the familiar sink and strain in the springs as belonging to his real mattress. Maybe tonight if he closed his eyes he could pretend he was at home.
"Of course we'll change the carpeting and repaint the walls once you choose what you want," Mrs. Whittemore said, frowning at the beige walls and the same light blue carpeting that lined the hallway outside, "but do you like your new room, sweetie?"
"It's great." Isaac flashed her his best smile then turned and directed it at Mr. Whittemore for a moment. "I love it."
He hated it.
Mr. Whittemore clapped a hand on Isaac's shoulder and this time Isaac managed not to flinch. Mr. Whittemore probably wasn't going to squeeze it painfully and shove Isaac against a wall the way his dad used to do. He supposed that was one change he could get behind.
"Once you've settled in, come and meet me in my study."
"I-I don't know where that is?" Isaac answered, fussing with the splint on his hand as an excuse not to make eye contact.
"Grant will show you. He'll be waiting at the top of the stairs to help take you down," Mr. Whittemore answered.
You mean like an elderly woman?
"Okay," Isaac said softly.
"I'm so happy you're here," Mrs. Whittemore said sweetly, hugging him and kissing his cheek.
Why?
"Thanks," he answered.
Once he was alone, Isaac opened all his drawers, gave his closet a cursory examination, and visited his new bathroom facilities. Everything was more or less where it should have been, and he couldn't find anything outright missing except the skeleton of his old desk itself, but he was still weirded out knowing that someone had gone through all his things and relocated them without him.
He wanted a shower but he didn't think he should keep Mr. Whittemore waiting, so after changing out of pajamas and into regular clothes, he re-opened his door and stepped out into the hallway. A moment later Jackson's door also opened and he shoved his way into the hallway too, crowding Isaac.
"Hey," Isaac mumbled, just because it would have felt rude not to acknowledge him at all.
Jackson glared at him and all but growled as he kicked one of Isaac's crutches out from under him, then stormed down the hallway toward the stairs.
Isaac cursed under his breath and fumbled to retrieve the crutch without losing his balance. He ultimately failed and wound up sprawled sideways on the ground. He hadn't quite fallen or even hurt himself, just been forced to take a knee and let gravity run its course.
Eventually, he managed to climb back to his feet and make his way to the stairs where he found Grant patiently waiting. He was relieved that apparently the young man hadn't heard the incident.
A little while later, Isaac was knocking hesitantly on Mr. Whittemore's study door. He entered the room after the man called for him to come in.
"You wanted to see me?" Isaac asked.
"Yes." The man sat back in his chair and motioned for Isaac to take a seat in one of the chairs on the other side of his desk. Once Isaac was situated he continued. "I know this is a significant adjustment for you, Isaac, but I want you to feel like part of the family."
Isaac smiled faintly. Mr. and Mrs. Whittemore really were being exceptionally welcoming.
"I want us to get to know each other better."
Isaac nodded. He was uncomfortable, but he wanted that too.
"That's why I had my assistant prepare these dossiers for you."
Wait what?!
He watched in confusion as Mr. Whittemore opened the top drawer of his desk and handed him a binder. Inside were three different folders containing biographies, pictures, and other documents about each of the Whittemores. Isaac thumbed through them. Apparently Jackson's favorite dish was Chicken Parmesan, Mrs. Whittemore's middle name was Olivia, and Mr. Whittemore was a fan of the Rolling Stones the group but not the magazine.
"Please memorize those at your leisure."
Isaac blinked at him open mouthed, too incredulous to worry about being rude.
"And if you'll flip to the back of the binder," Mr. Whittemore requested.
Isaac did as he was told and found a multi-page questionnaire.
"Please fill that out and return it to me by the end of the week so we can get to know you too."
Homework? Mr. Whittemore wanted him to write about his childhood pets instead of just asking him about them?
"I know this is unorthodox, but it's much more efficient and I'm a very busy man."
"Sorry to bother you," Isaac answered with a hint of sarcasm before he thought better of it.
Mr. Whittemore frowned. "I really do want you to be happy here, Isaac. Let's schedule a lunch and have a nice long chat, just the two of us."
Or, you know, now would have been an option too.
"Do you want me to call your assistant to set something up?" Isaac asked, mindful of his tone but otherwise letting his sarcasm run free.
"Yes, that would be perfect."
Isaac gaped at him.
Mr. Whittemore chuckled. "I'm kidding. Tomorrow at noon. We'll go out. You pick the place."
Isaac nodded and grabbed his crutches to stand.
"One more thing."
Isaac paused and returned his attention to Mr. Whittemore who opened a different drawer and pulled out a credit card.
"This is for you. I added you as an authorized user and have one coming with your name on it, but you can use this for online purchases in the meantime."
Isaac backed up in his chair. He did not want to spend their money.
"Go on, it's fine."
"I-I don't need a credit card."
"It's safer than carrying cash, and we'll earn rewards on every purchase."
Isaac inwardly laughed. All Mr. Whittemore had to do now was mention the number of merchants nationwide that accepted the card and then remark on how convenient its online account management was and they could shoot a commercial.
He reluctantly took the card just to avoid potentially starting an argument or offending him.
"Don't go crazy but feel free to buy anything under a hundred dollars. Talk to me first if it's more than that."
Crazy, right – like giving a random teenager you barely know your credit card? Got it.
As he was walking out of the room, Mr. Whittemore stopped him one final time.
"Isaac."
He turned and looked back.
"You are safe here," Mr. Whittemore said, tone serious as he held eye contact with Isaac. "Please tell me if you have any problems or feel like you aren't."
Isaac nodded and walked out of the room, unsure how to make sense of the conflicting emotions knotting his stomach.
-000-
"I'm not doing that." Jackson glared at his mother, refusing to spare a glance at Isaac, who was cowering in the corner of the room by the door like the anti-social loser he was.
"But, honey, Isaac has to get to school somehow," his mother answered, her voice gravelly and smile lacking its usual attempt at sincerity. She was hung over bad this morning.
"Take him yourself," Jackson said, his voice louder than necessary. He smirked when she flinched.
"Don't be silly," she answered, fingers daintily steepling the sides of her head, "I haven't put on my makeup yet."
"Then Grant can drive him, or he can stay home." Jackson grimaced. He had implied this was Isaac's home. It was not. "But I'm not doing it."
She frowned and the pretense of a pleasant mood vanished from her face. "Take Isaac to school – and bring him back at the end of the day – or you're grounded again next weekend."
Jackson folded his arms and dug his fingers into his sides. Isaac was going to pay for this. "Go to my car, Lahey, and don't touch it till I get there."
Jackson turned to go back upstairs and get his things, but his mother stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, honey. I knew I could count on you," she said sweetly.
"Don't touch me," he snarled, shaking out of her grasp.
"It's okay, sweetie, Jackson's always a little grumpy in the morning," she said to Isaac as Jackson thundered up the stairs.
-000-
Isaac swallowed back a groan as Jackson took a sharp turn and his injured arm slammed against the passenger side door, compressed between it and his body.
They didn't say a word to each other on the trip to school. Jackson didn't acknowledge him at all unless a clenched jaw and erratic driving counted as acknowledgment.
Isaac was relieved when they pulled into the school parking lot. He couldn't get out of Jackson's car fast enough. Unfortunately, he literally couldn't get out of Jackson's car fast enough. Thanks to his reduced mobility, it took him too long to climb out of the car and Jackson became impatient.
"Get out!" Jackson shouted. He snatched up the crutch still leaning between their seats and hurled it over the car, past Isaac and onto the ground in the neighboring empty space.
As Isaac leaned down to pick it up, a horn blared, startling him and causing him to lose his precarious balance. He scrapped his good arm against the concrete as he crashed to the ground but managed to keep from exacerbating the injuries to his broken arm and leg. When he looked up a car's front bumper was creeping toward him, horn still blaring. He grabbed his crutch and crawled out of the spot as a chorus of laughter erupted in the parking lot. Theo Raeken emerged from the car moments later, grinning and all but bowing to his audience.
"You're such a d-bag, Theo," remarked one of the twins, Isaac couldn't tell which one, as he stepped past Isaac and greeted his friend with a light thump on the shoulder.
A moment later a pair of hands was under Isaac's unbroken arm and another pair was gripping his sides. Isaac started to panic but calmed down slightly when he realized who the hands belonged to.
"Are you okay?" Danny asked, tugging Isaac back to his feet by the arm.
Isaac glanced over his other shoulder to identify Danny's companion, who was helping support Isaac's weight. It was the other twin, presumably Ethan, Danny's boyfriend, based on context.
"Fine," Isaac said shortly, fussing with his crutches to avoid making eye contact and hating the blush that burned his cheeks. Danny and Ethan were two of the slightly less awful popular kids, but Isaac still didn't want to have anything to do with them, and he wasn't sure he even appreciated their help if their scrutiny was the price he had to pay for it.
"What the fuck was that loser doing getting out of your car, Jackson?" Theo asked, voice raised so that Isaac would be sure to hear it. Isaac hated Theo. He was even worse than Jackson, and that was really saying something.
"Shut up, Raeken," Jackson snarled, rounding the back bumper of his car and shoving past his lacrosse buddies as he strode toward the school entrance. Theo and Aiden trailed after him, Theo peppering him with more questions and Aiden laughing obnoxiously.
"Take it easy, Isaac," Danny said as he patted Isaac's back and stepped around him. Ethan tapped Isaac's shoulder a couple times, then wrapped his arm around Danny's waist as they left to catch up with the others.
Fucking assholes! If you were actually nice guys you'd call your friends out on their bullshit behavior. But sure, you just go right ahead and feel like you did your fucking good deed for the day by helping the crippled loser get back up.
Isaac's day didn't get any better from there. He sat alone at lunch, like he always did, only this time everyone seemed to be watching him and whispering or laughing. Did they know about his abuse? Did they know Isaac's father had been arrested? Had Jackson told them?
He was too self conscious to sit through a whole lunch, so he only ate about half his food then got up to leave. He wasn't that hungry anyway thanks to having actual meals at the Whittemores' all weekend and that morning. Ordinarily he'd have to scrounge whatever he could from the sparse groceries and takeout dinners his father had kept in the house.
Unfortunately, as he was leaving the cafeteria, another one of the lacrosse bullies, Liam Dunbar, was coming in. Liam wasn't paying attention to what he was doing and before Isaac could pull his crutch out of the way, Liam's foot got tangled up in it and he tripped, face-planting in the entryway of the cafeteria. Isaac cringed and braced himself. Liam's temper was legendary.
Sure enough the athlete sprang back to his feet, and before Isaac could offer an apology, Liam slammed him against the wall.
"You fucking shitbag!" Liam shouted, his face flushed with fury as he dug his forearm into Isaac's throat.
Isaac hated how much shorter and smaller Liam was than him. He was also a grade behind Isaac in school. It made him feel even more pathetic for not being able to defend himself.
"What the fuck do you think you were doing tripping me?!" Liam demanded. He didn't give Isaac a chance to answer before he punched him in the stomach with his free hand.
Isaac coughed and crumpled against the wall. Liam didn't hit as hard as Isaac's father, but the added embarrassment of having this assault witnessed by everyone in the cafeteria more than made up for it, especially since Isaac's torso was still sore from its last round of battering.
"I'm sorry," Isaac ground out between attempts to catch his breath. This situation was painfully familiar even if the perpetrator was different, and Isaac knew not saying anything could make it worse. "It was an accident."
"Dude, I think it really was an accident. Lay off," Mason Hewitt said, appearing behind Liam and trying to pull him away. Isaac had been vaguely aware of his presence but had been wholly focused on the threat Liam posed.
"Go away, Mace," Liam barked, his arm digging in harder against Isaac's throat.
"Seriously, Liam, you're being a dick. Stop." Mason pulled Liam back far enough to relieve the pressure on Isaac's windpipe.
Liam wheeled around to face Mason, and Isaac half-expected Liam to hit him. Instead he took deep breaths, his hands balled into fists by his sides. After a few seconds Mason edged around Liam, placing himself between him and Isaac.
"Come on. Let's eat," Mason said, his voice obviously modulated to be soothing as he placed a hand on Liam's back.
"If you fucking do that again, Lahey, I'll break your other leg," Liam shouted as he hurled one more fiery glare before allowing Mason to usher him away.
Isaac hobbled from the cafeteria as quickly as he could, aware that everyone was once again laughing and talking about him.
-000-
Jackson was pissed. Isaac had done nothing but embarrass him all day, and now everyone had found out Isaac was living with him. Worse, if Jackson wanted to get his freedom back next weekend, he was going to have to let Isaac ride home with him.
His anger only deepened when he couldn't find Isaac after school. He wasn't among the crowd of students at their lockers in the hallway, and he wasn't waiting for Jackson out front or in the parking lot.
Jackson didn't have Isaac's phone number, so what was he supposed to do? Fucking walk around the school yelling for him? There was no way in hell that was going to happen. He'd rather stay grounded.
He waited around for a few more minutes, covertly looking for the loser, but eventually he gave up and left. This wasn't his fault. He had been willing to give Isaac a ride. He couldn't control whether or not the moron actually showed up to get in the car. His parents would just have to understand that.
Jackson laughed out loud as he pulled onto the road and within two blocks spotted Isaac hobbling down the street. Was he planning to try to walk back? He really was a moron. Jackson didn't care. At least fewer people would see the dipshit getting into his car here on the side of the road than in the school parking lot.
He pulled up next to him and rolled down the window. "Get in the fucking car, Lahey!"
Isaac looked reluctant, but after a few seconds did as he was told. Jackson took off again as soon as he was sure the oaf was in far enough that he wouldn't fall back out – Jackson's parents would have killed him if Isaac broke something else – but before he had a chance to get settled or even close his door. Jackson laughed as Isaac gasped and slammed it shut.
"Can't you follow simple instructions?" Jackson asked, taking a corner a little too fast and chuckling again as one of Isaac's crutches fell against his broken leg. It was in a cast. He'd be fine.
"I got in the car," Isaac answered with more hostility than Jackson had expected. He'd expected a sniveling apology.
"You fuckin' left the school."
"At least this way no one had to see us together," Isaac answered.
Jackson thought about telling Isaac off, but that was the same thing he had been thinking, and an idea occurred to him. "Fine. I'll start picking you up and dropping you off a couple blocks away."
"Start?" Isaac asked.
Jackson wanted to take enjoyment from the alarm in Isaac's voice, but he couldn't manage it. This situation sucked. He was going to be stuck with Isaac for god only knew how long. "Yeah, pretty sure my parents are going to make this a regular thing."
"Fuck," Isaac mumbled under his breath.
Jackson agreed with that assessment as he grunted and turned on the radio, hoping to make it clear even to someone as dumb as Isaac that the conversation was over.
They didn't say anything else to each other that night, even once they got home and Jackson's mother insisted on a 'family dinner.' Jackson was disappointed she wasn't already passed out so she would leave him alone. At least his father was working late that night like always. Jackson would have been absolutely livid if the man had started making a habit of coming home early for Isaac Fucking Lahey.
-000-
End Note: I know this was still a pretty rough chapter for Isaac and that Jackson doesn't seem to be getting any better, but things will start to improve soon, so I hope you guys stick with the story.
Thanks very much to everyone who has read and commented. Feedback is always greatly appreciated.
Happy Holidays!
