Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Numb3rs or the characters therein. All characters are fictional and should not be associated with any other person- real or imagined.
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Don returned to his old high school that Friday, arriving inside the front entrance as the dismissal bell rang. Dita had assured him she would tell his new men-tees to meet him at the front of the school that day, and about the new club they had unknowingly joined.
Standing next to the front doors, Don was surprised that he was not swamped by escaping students, though he observed a steady stream of young bodies rushing through the upper hallway that branched to either side at the top of the stairs in front of him, heading off to who-knew-where. The school eventually settled to immobility around him; Don wondered if he had wasted a trip, when five young men languidly walked up a set of stairs to his right, as if anyone who wanted to see them should be grateful to wait.
The Detention Dawgs wore their usual uniform of t-shirts, jeans, and frowns, their jagged body positions still decrying an attitude of aggression and distance. Once they were within a few feet of Don, however, despite their best efforts they could no longer carry their air of defiance, rushing up to surround the agent and smiling like little kids while they patted him on the back and flooded him with questions.
"Hey, Don, what's going on?"
"What's this club thing?"
"How'd we join, anyway, I don't remember signing anything?"
"Man, didn't ever expect you to come steppin' back in here!"
"Hear you've been the playa with Miss Sloane, what's up with that?"
Shaking each of the boys' hands and returning their pats on the back, Don hushed them to a few comments here and there as he explained how Miss Sloane had thought they might be interested in becoming law enforcement officers after they had heard his lecture, and that she had talked Rooney into letting Don form the club, convincing the principal that it would be good for them. While they remained silent, Don placed a name to each of the disbelieving faces in front of him: okay, the short Latino kid is Miguel, the taller one is Jose- they call him Joey; Adam's easy to remember- my middle name, he's the blond white kid; that leaves Jeff-hmmm, he's the black kid and Ben- that brown hair sure stands out against his pale skin.
"Boy," Miguel said, "You lie really good. You actually said that with a real convincing look on your face. You oughta sell cars or something like that."
"No way would old Nipplehead agree to us having a club, especially not with Detention Don heading it up. Miss Sloane must have been behind it," observed Jeff.
"She must have run some kind of number on you, getting you to come back here," Adam smirked, "I bet she was real persuasive..."
Holding up his hands and grinning, Don refused to let that part of the conversation go any further. "First lesson in law- pleading the fifth."
"Alright, alright, maybe we don't have eyewitness proof, but I bet that red face of yours would be good circumstantial evidence," Jeff declared.
All five boys laughed as Don turned redder.
Fortunately, Dita appeared, her chaste uniform of long skirts and heavy sweaters easily clearing all six male minds of the image of the luscious and bodacious Miss Sloane; she said 'hi' to the boys and blushed a 'hello' to Don, repeating her habit of pushing her glasses up her nose. Waving a key, she said, "Rooney says we can meet in the office between rooms 116 and 120."
"Great." Don took the key from Dita, heading down the main staircase while he explained to the Dawgs, "We're not just some made up club, you know; we're official, just like a sports team or the booster club. We have to meet once a week, just like the other clubs, and I'll really teach you about law enforcement. You might surprise yourselves and find it interesting."
"Do we get to do everything other clubs do?" Ben asked.
"Sure. And just like them, we're a team- we all have an equal say in what we do. You can give me suggestions about what will make our Fridays fun, and we'll vote on it. I have a few ideas of my own; I have lots of law enforcement contacts, so we can go on field trips to my office, and some police stations; maybe see the local jail"- Don jokingly added, "unless you've already been on that trip."
When Don stopped at the bottom of the stairs, he noticed that none of the teens were smiling. He realized his mistake- these boys were probably teased all the time about being the 'criminal element' and every bad thing that went along with that reputation; he knew it didn't take too much of that before a young mind began to believe what everyone else said was true. Well, he thought, I won't make that same mistake again. "I'm sorry. That last remark was rude. I really wouldn't be here if I didn't think you had the potential to enter law enforcement- or any other career you want. We can focus on the law enforcement aspect of the club, but if there's something else that interests you, just let me know. I'll see what I can do- I promise."
The boys silently weighed Don's remark and his apology. They had never thought of joining a club, having always been outsiders and not wanting to risk the rejection. This club was different- they were the insiders, and had already been accepted by each other, so rejection by its members was not something they were risking. However, they were still having a hard time believing that anyone outside of themselves would take them seriously, and Don's remark had only underlined that mistrust. Still, no one had ever apologized to them before, especially an adult; and besides, they were beginning to get excited about his mention of field trips, as none of them had left their neighborhoods before, the lack of money and transportation real factors in limiting their exploration of their world.
Secretly, they quickly forgave Don, but Miguel looked at him with soulfully sad eyes, "Man, that was harsh. Everyone always expects us to be bad. Sometimes, it just makes me want to give up." He sighed deeply. All four boys imitated their unspoken leader, their shoulders sinking and their eyes turning away. Seeing Don's guilty expression deepening, Miguel looked at the floor, carefully shuffling his feet, "Maybe when we're done meeting here you could do something to make it up to us." He played the agent's feelings of guilt to a tune that included four large pizzas and a limitless supply of soda.
Thus forgiven, Don walked with Dita as the boys lead them to room 116; Don couldn't remember which direction to take while Dita was too new to know.
"Where were all those students going in the upstairs hallway?" he asked the secretary.
"Well, the fun-fair is only two weeks away, and it's become a big beginning of the school year event. All the clubs will be meeting almost every day after school to form strategies to get the most donations, and setting up and decorating their booths on the lower gym floor. Plus, you can only participate if you make a thousand fliers advertising the fair in general, with your club's name in the bottom right corner so they know who's responsible for them." She rolled her eyes. "It's one of the ways Rooney saves on his personal administrator funds."
Don thought about this- everyday after school. No way he could make it. Reading his thoughts, Dita offered, "I can be here any day you can't. Just show up enough that Rooney doesn't say you're shirking your responsibilities"- adding just loud enough for him to hear- "and enough so I know you're not shirking me."
They arrived at the designated office door, Don pressing through all bodies present to slip the key in the door and stiffening slightly when he suddenly felt Dita pressing closely next to him. Hmmm, he thought, she does wear good perfume. "Funny, when I was in school, this was the janitor's closet..." Don opened the door, flicked on the wall switch, and then stared open-mouthed in disbelief at the six fold-up chairs squeezed in-between a collection of mops, brooms, buckets and various other cleaning tools, light barely emanating from the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling; a lingering odor of old vomit permeated the air.
Jeff clapped him on the shoulder, "Surprise! Surprise! This is still the janitor's closet."
He and the other Dawgs slipped by him, once again patting him affectionately on the back in support; Dita did the same, managing to make hers a little more of a rub and lower on his body.
Shaking the shock from his face, Don entered the room; he found a small piece of wood to prop the door open, allowing fresh air to enter and keeping the smell in the room to a minimum. He watched as the Dawgs sat seriously in the chairs in the room, all of them sitting upright and at attention, as if the principal had assigned them the king's own throne room for their club meeting; Don couldn't help but grin and decide to be playful. He picked up a bucket and checked to make sure it was clean; then he plopped it on his head and grabbed the nearest mop, holding it in his hand like a scepter and banging it on the ground, loudly stating, "I declare the first meeting of the Future Law Enforcers of America club is now in order."
Dita and the Dawgs clapped enthusiastically and hooted, making Don's eyes gleam.