1Title: A Twist of Fate
Ratings/Warnings: Angst, minor wearing
Beta: loracj2 Once again, I have changed and added a few paragraphs after she checked it. Any grammatical or punctuation errors are entirely the fault of the author.
Disclaimers: I own nothing in relation to The O.C. All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Beginning of Season 1, AU, In The Pilot, Kirsten asks Sandy "What if this is all a scam? What if he's just using you to case the house?" In this story it is the truth, but not by Ryan's choice. For the purposes of this story Dawn is dead and there never was a Trey
A/N: Once again, any legal references in this chapter are purely for the fictional purposes of this story. I know nothing of the legal system Except for the small fact that not wearing a seat belt will cost you $55. whistles innocently
Special Thanks: katwoman76 and themusrevenge each looked over this chapter for different reasons. They both had extremely valid points about parts of this chapter that needed added to or fixed. I hope the revisions meet with their approvals.
Twist of Fate: Chapter Fourteen
Ryan didn't see Kirsten or hear her calling his name as he rushed past her and out of the house. He flung open the pool house doors and frantically began looking for his leather jacket and backpack.
He didn't need this. He didn't want to see that look of pity the Cohens kept giving him ever again. He didn't need anyone feeling sorry for him. He could take care of himself.
Where was that damn jacket? He pushed one of the chairs, hoping it had fallen beneath it. He knew it was stupid to be wasting time looking for the jacket. He should have just made a break for it.He'd seen the guards at the front gate. They were all middle-aged and fat. He could outrun any of them with little to no problem.
He had to figure out what to do once he was past the gates. Mr. Cohen would come looking for him. If he had been in Chino, there was the chance he could hitch, and make a fast getaway, but he sincerely doubted Newport was big on hitchhikers. No, once he was past the gates, he was just going to have to lay low and hide until he had darkness on his side. He only hoped the rain would pass by.
Thinking about Mr. Cohen made Ryan pause for a moment. Why was this family so determined to help him? Why couldn't they understand he didn't need anyone's help? He'd been doing fine his whole life. Okay, maybe fine was stretching it, but he'd survived and that was enough.
The Cohens had only known him for one lousy weekend. They must want something from him, though he couldn't figure out what that could be. They had more than enough money, so they didn't want him around for the same reasons Art did. Maybe they were like some of those rich people who volunteered all of the time. The ones who felt guilty because they had so much. But Mr. Cohen had already told him that it was his wife that made the money. Any guilty feelings they had over being so rich should have been taken care of by Mr. Cohen's job as a public defender.
The only other option Ryan could come up with was that they really did care about what happened to him. But they couldn't...no one else ever had. They probably felt sorry for him. They were just being nice and being nice didn't mean anything. It didn't give them the right to butt into his business.
If only they had been normal. If they'd just been like everyone else in his life, he'd be in Chino right now. He'd be back where he knew what to expect out of people. All of these questions wouldn't be constantly plaguing his mind and clouding his judgment.
Ryan had been shocked to hear that the Cohens had hired a private detective to look into his life. No one had ever gone to that much trouble for him before. From the looks of the Cohens' lifestyle, they didn't do anything cheaply. Whoever they got was probably very expensive and very good at what they did. It was the only explanation for Mr. Cohen finding out about so much about him, specifically his experience stealing.
Even before his talk with Sandy, Ryan had doubts about stealing from the Cohens. He kept finding it harder and harder to fathom stealing from people who had been so kind to him. However, as hard as it might have been to imagine stealing from them, it would be much worse to deal with Art's reaction if he refused. But now he didn't have a choice. There was no way he could go through with Art's plan.
Ryan didn't know what he was going to tell Art. If the Cohens' house was burglarized, they would be sure to put two and two together and come up with Ryan as the thief. Their kindness and their patience with him would come to an abrupt stop. There would be no getting out of Juvie this time.
Damn the detective and Art's friends for not being able to keep their mouths shut.
Suddenly, it occurred to Ryan that Mr. Cohen had been right about one thing. He couldn't go back to Chino today or ever again. By now Art's friends, most likely Al and Nate, had sobered up long enough to tell Art about the conversation they'd had with the detective. They would leave out the details making them look bad, but Art would still know that someone had been asking about him. Art was going to kill him, literally.
Now the question was what exactly was he going to do. Going back to Chino would be like signing his own death certificate. He needed to calm down and think. He needed a plan.
Vegas. He'd always hoped that someday after he turned eighteen and no one could make him go back to Art, he would head to Vegas. He'd never been there, but he'd seen pictures. It always looked like a place he where could easily blend into the background. For once in his life, maybe he could truly become invisible.
He needed to be careful. He could make it on his own once he got to Vegas, but getting there was going to be a problem. He couldn't afford to get caught. This time it would be harder to runaway than when he had been a little kid. Art hadn't even been looking for him when the cops picked him up. By now, Art was probably beginning to wonder where he was at. Ryan had thought he would be back in Chino by now, surely Art had thought so too. He and his friends were bound to be looking for him by now. If by some slim chance, talking to Al and Nate hadn't given Art the desire to kill Ryan, catching him running away would.
Then there was the problem with the Cohens. He couldn't be sure that they wouldn't have the cops looking for him. Between Art, his buddies, the Cohens, and the cops he was constantly going to have to be watching his back.
He'd have to be smarter than he was the last time. But then again, he'd only been twelve. He'd learned a lot these past three years.
A bus would be the quickest way to get out of town, but also the riskiest. It would be the first place Art and the cops would look for him. He'd have to try and get at least a couple of hours away before chancing going to a bus station, and even then it would be dangerous. He'd hide during the day and travel at night, making sure to stay away from the highways and interstates. He would be decreasing any chances he had of being able to hitchhike, but it was his only choice.
Money was the next big problem. In his original plan, the one where he had time to plan before running away, he had hoped to be able to hide money from Art. He wanted a clean start, and not to begin a new life as nothing more than a petty criminal.
Picking pockets wouldn't exactly help him stay under the cops' radar, but it couldn't be helped. He didn't have a dime to his name.
Just like the bus station, he would have to wait until he was farther away before attempting anything. It meant going a few days without eating, but he was used to that. At first, he would only need enough for a bus ticket. Then, once he got to Vegas, he would steal only enough to help him get started...a couple of meals, a cheap place to stay for a few days. After that, no more. He swore it.
It was a risky plan, but he had nothing to lose. He shook his head. No, he couldn't think like that. He had to stay focused, stay positive. He was finally going to be his own man. Free from everything and everyone. He was going to be just fine. Or at least he would be once he found his jacket.
On a last ditch effort to find it before leaving he looked under the bed. Finally! He found it. He'd forgotten he'd hidden it there after stealing Seth's alarm. Now he could get out of here.
He pulled Mr. Cohen's borrowed shirt over the top of his head.
"Oh my God."
Ryan spun around to see Kirsten standing in the doorway looking horrified, her hands covering her mouth.
Damn. Damn. Damn Why hadn't he just left? He'd only been in the pool house a couple of minutes, but he had known every moment counted, and those precious minutes had been a few too many. Damn jacket, he could have just replaced it. What had he been thinking? Maybe Art was right about him. Maybe he really was just that stupid.
"Ryan, your shoulders."
"It's nothing, Mrs. Cohen."
"Don't tell me it's nothing. I saw it. You're covered in welts. Is the rest of your back?" She stopped, unable to finish the question. She couldn't quite believe what she had just seen.
"Yes. I mean no. I mean..." He sighed. "It doesn't matter. It's not really that big of a deal. It doesn't even hurt that much anymore. Can't you forget you ever saw it?"
"No, Ryan, I can't just forget about it. You're hurt. Turn around and let me see."
"No." Ryan shook his head. "You've been nicer to me than anyone else in my entire life, but I can't do that. I've got to leave. Right now."
He made a move for the door.
"Not a chance." Kirsten moved so that she stood directly in front of him. "I'm sorry, Ryan. I can not and will not let you go."
If it had been Sandy, he would have tried to push past him. But he couldn't do that to Kirsten. She could fall. He might hurt her. Besides the occasional street fight, he had never deliberately hurt anyone in his life, especially a woman. He wasn't about to start now.
He couldn't believe he had managed to get himself trapped again.
"Ryan, we weren't done talking." Sandy rushed into the pool house. He looked at Ryan and then at Kirsten. "Honey, is everything all right in here?"
"Not hardly," she answered. "Ryan was trying to run away. And did you know about his back?"
"His back? What about his back?"
"Ryan, turn around and show Sandy what I'm talking about, please."
Ryan didn't see any point in arguing. He turned around and tried not to jerk away when he felt his shirt slowly being lifted. He heard a sharp intake of breath and knew it was Kirsten. All Sandy could muster was a muffled, "Oh, kid."
"Ryan," Kirsten began. He felt her cool soft touch on his skin. "Some of these are infected. A simple first aid kit won't be enough. You need to see a doctor."
He quickly turned around.
"I can't see a doctor. I don't have any insurance or money."
"We'll pay for it."
"You don't understand," he replied desperately. "If I go to the doctor, they'll call the police and social services. Then there'll be all kinds of reports. I'm not going to tell them what you want me to. I'll tell them I fell down the steps or off my bike. But they'll still take pictures of me. I hate those pictures. Please don't make me go."
Kirsten stared into his pleading eyes, and felt herself begin to melt. As sorry as she was to admit it, Ryan's back was exactly what Sandy had said they needed last night. They would have concrete proof of Art's abuse, which was crucial part in being able to put the man behind bars. However, if Ryan refused to cooperate, what good would dragging him to the doctor do? It certainly wouldn't help them gain his trust. She wasn't willing to just let the wounds on his back go. She knew they needed medical attention. She had to come up with another solution.
"I'll call Susan."
"Who?"
"Susan Andrews, our neighbor, she's the doctor I mentioned the other day." Kirsten glanced at her watch. "She probably hasn't left for work yet. I'll ask her if she can come over here and take a look at you. If she can prescribe something for you without you having to go in, we won't take you. However, if she believes you need further treatment, you will be going to the emergency room or wherever she thinks you should go. Is that a deal?"
He knew he didn't really have a choice in the matter, but he nodded his head yes anyway.
"I'll go call her now."
"Wait a minute, please." Sandy reached out to stop her. "As you've probably already figured out, our talk didn't go as well as I had hoped. We still have some things that need to be discussed. I would really like it if you stayed and continued with us this time."
She rubbed his arm.
"You're right. Of course I'll stay. There will be enough time to call Susan after we talk. I need to be here."
Sandy smiled at his wife to show his appreciation, before motioning to the bed. "Have a seat, kid."
Sandy waited until Ryan sat down.
"I don't know exactly what happened back in the house. I do know, however, that it couldn't have been easy hearing those things about your life, and I'm sorry if I upset or offended you. I wish there was some way we could have this talk without having to bring up all the abuse you've had to endure in your life, and I really wish you hadn't had to go through it all in the first place. But Ryan, everything I said back there was the truth. There's no denying it now, not after what Kirsten and I just saw."
Ryan shifted uncomfortably. "So what happens now? I won't testify against Art. I can't. There's no way I can sit in some court room and tell about everything that's happened in the past three years with him sitting right there. I won't do it. I'm sorry."
"You were right before when you said that Art's friends' stories won't hold up. The odds of them cooperating when they're sober are slim to none, and even if they did, it's all hearsay. I'm afraid you're pretty much it, kid. I promised you I would make sure you won't get into trouble for what Art has made you do and I mean it. However, just because you're a minor doesn't mean Art's lawyer would take it easy on you. He would do his best to discredit everything you said." Sandy patted Ryan's knee and gave it a slight squeeze. "I want you to understand that I don't blame you if you won't help put him away. God knows you've been through enough."
"So you're saying if I don't help you, nothing is going to happen to him?"
"That's right. His life will be no different than it is now, except without you around he'll have to come up with a new way to supplement his drug money. Maybe he'll find another single mom with a young son that he can mistreat and use for his own gain."
Sandy was playing dirty and he knew it. Truthfully, he would have given almost anything for Ryan to not have to go to court, but his desire to see Art punished and to stop him from doing it again overrode the guilt he was feeling and his need to protect Ryan from ever having to see Art again.
Ryan bit his lip and nodded. "I'll think about it, Mr. Cohen, but I won't promise anything."
"Thank you, Ryan. That's all I can ask of you."
"If I decide not to testify, what about me? You can't prove Art's done anything wrong. Who's to stop me from leaving and going back to him right now?"
"Me, for one." Kirsten answered. "I couldn't sleep knowing you were back with that monster."
"She's right, kid. There's no way we're letting him get anywhere near you again. Besides, you never should have been with him to begin with."
"What do you mean?"
"Did you know that Art isn't your legal guardian?"
"No."
"Well, he isn't. He had ninety days after your mother's death to petition the court for custody. He never filed a thing. I'm sure because with his record, he knew he'd be laughed out of court. He has no claim to you whatsoever."
"How is that possible? How come no one ever checked to see what happened to me? Didn't anyone care?"
Now it was Sandy's turn to be uncomfortable.
"I wish there was a good explanation, but there isn't one. Art was smart. He moved you out of Fresno before anyone had a chance to look at anything. After that...I don't know. I'm sorry."
Ryan shook his head in disbelief. "It's okay, Mr. Cohen. It's not your fault. I wasn't important enough to remember."
He bowed his head once again. For the moment, Sandy was at a loss for words. It was just as well; Ryan needed a few minutes to process what he had just learned.
Finally, Ryan looked up.
"Um, if Social Services forgot about me once, couldn't they do it again? I mean, what would be the harm in you letting me go? You could tell them I ran away. It'd be the truth. I won't go back to Chino. I promise. It'd be fine. I can take care of myself."
"You've said that already, and I'm still not buying it. You have no job, no money. Where would you go? How would you live?"
"I...I kind of thought I might go to Vegas."
"Ryan, you're fifteen. You don't even have your driver's license yet."
"I'd get by."
"How? By stealing? That's a hell of a plan, kid. Sounds like you've put a lot of thought into it."
Ryan dropped his gaze.
"Look, kid. I don't mean to come across as the bad guy here, but running away is not an option. If you were caught stealing with your record, you'd end up in Juvie, and you don't belong there. I won't let you throw your life away. I know it's hard to believe, but Social Services is not the enemy. They're there to help kids like you."
"I was in foster care once before, right after my dad went to prison. They let me go back to Mom after a couple of weeks. The guy who owned the house was just like my dad, a mean drunk. I was still scared all the time. It wasn't any better than home."
"Things will be different this time."
"How?"
"You have us."
Ryan almost looked up.
"We're not going to drop you off at Social Services and walk away. We care about you. I've got friends there. I can talk to them and make sure you're placed somewhere safe. And, if I can swing it, somewhere close by."
"That's right, Ryan," Kirsten added. "We want to be a part of your life. Make sure you're okay. Hopefully, you'll still be able to spend some weekends with us."
"What if there's no places like that available? Then what?"
"I can't promise anything, but I'll see if I can't arrange for you to stay with us until a proper home opens up." Sandy glanced nervously at Kirsten. They hadn't really discussed that particular problem. He hoped she wouldn't disagree with him later when they were in private. To his great relief, she looked completely receptive to the idea. Nodding her head, she smiled at him and then at Ryan. With that one small nod of her head, Sandy's hope that Ryan could stay and live with them grew tenfold.
Ryan looked at them in disbelief.
"Why are you doing this? What's in it for you?"
"Peace of mind. Knowing that you're safe and not on the streets. Knowing that someone is finally taking care of you. You may not believe this, Ryan, but you deserve better than the hand life has dealt you so far." Sandy waited a minute. "So what do you say, kid? Are you willing to give it a chance?"
Ryan didn't say a word.
"I know it's a lot to take in. Give it some time and think it over?"
"I don't really have a choice, do I?"
"No, I'm afraid not, but I'd like you to go willingly. Why don't you come on in the house, maybe get something to eat?"
"Can't I stay out here? I'd really like some time alone."
Sandy shook his head. "I'm sorry, kid. It's just that..."
"You don't trust me not to run away." Ryan stood. "It's okay, Mr. Cohen. I get it."
He grabbed his jacket and slipped it on.
"Seth might be awake," he explained. "He kind of knows about my back, but I don't want him to see it."
"We understand, kid. You don't have to say another word." Sandy began to guide Ryan out of the pool house. "Unfortunately, I can't say the same thing for my son."
ococococococococococococococ
Seth was exhausted.
He had never imagined that having your bubble burst could be so tiring.
He felt like an idiot. He kept thinking back to how many times he had complained to Ryan over the past two days. How many times had he talked about how rotten the people were here? How horrible his life was? All the time Ryan sat there and listed to him whine while it was his life that must truly be unbearable. Ryan must have wanted to punch him.
Seth wasn't completely naive. He had seen movies. He watched the news. He even helped his mom set up for fundraisers to help less fortunate kids. He just never imagined that someone like Ryan would be one those kids. He was too cool, too tough. He wasn't supposed to have a parent who hit him.
He pushed aside his bowl of cereal. He didn't have much of an appetite this morning..
He hoped that Ryan was wrong, that he wouldn't have to end up in a group home. Seth had done some researching on the net after his parents had holed up in their bedroom last night. He didn't blame Ryan for not wanting to go there. Seth had always wanted brothers and sisters, but the idea of being forced to live with a bunch of strange kids wasn't even appealing to someone as lonely as himself. He couldn't imagine a private guy like Ryan living in one of those places.
He was being stupid. There was nothing to worry about. His dad could fix this. He would know what to do. He wouldn't let Ryan rot away where no one would notice. With his mind at ease, he picked up his video game controller and switched on the t.v.
Seth hit the power button as soon as he saw his parents and Ryan walk in the house. It didn't look like things were going well.
"Whoa," he exclaimed when he saw their expressions. "What'd I miss? I've got to tell you I've seen happier faces on the chess club on rope climbing day in P.E."
"Not now, Seth," Kirsten said.
"Nope, not again. You promised to keep me in the loop."
"I know what we promised, but now is not the time. We need a few minutes to get some things settled."
"And then you'll fill me in?"
"Yes, we promise."
"Good. Because I've got to tell you, this is the three of you." He pointed in the air making three dots with his right hand. "And this is the loop." He drew a circle around where the three dots were. "And this is me." With his left hand he pointed high in the air, opposite the imaginary loop.
"We get the picture, sweetie." Kirsten looked at Sandy. "Excuse me, I need to call Susan. It's getting late."
"Of course, honey. I need to make a few phone calls myself, but they can wait until you're done. I'll just sit here and keep the boys company."
With each step his mother took, Seth scooted himself closer and closer to the kitchen. When he heard her pick up the phone, he leaned over the edge of the couch, straining to hear what she was saying.
"Seth," Sandy said sharply. "No eavesdropping."
"If I don't eavesdrop, I'm only going to get farther away from the loop. Pretty soon I won't even be able to see it, let alone be in it."
Sandy picked up the extra game controller. "Here, why don't you get your mind off you and your loop by showing me how to play this game of yours?"
"I've got to tell you, Dad. You and the smoothness are getting to be just like me and the loop...not exactly close."
"Son, would you please drop the loop-talk. It's getting on my nerves."
"All I'm saying is that ever since Ryan got here, you've tried to speak in code, distract me, or change the subject. And you've failed miserably each and every time."
Sandy tried to silence him with a look.
"See," Seth said pointing. "Just like that. You're trying to get me to shut-up again and it's not going to work. For one thing, you know that only Mom has mastered "the look." I think it has to do with the eyebrows. It's hard to take you seriously when you have two giant wooly worms living above your eyes. Have you ever thought about getting those things trimmed down?"
"I hate to break it to you, but they're genetic. You're time will come, my son."
Seth started to feel his eyebrows.
"You know, they were a little out of control this morning. I thought it had to do with the humidity. Speaking of which," he turned to face Ryan. "Why are you wearing your jacket? In case you haven't noticed, it's not exactly cold today."
Ryan glared at him.
"See," Seth pointed. "Now that's a look."
"A look of what?" Kirsten asked as she walked back into the living room.
"Nothing, just your son's rambling. Did you get a hold of her?"
"Yes. She'll be here in fifteen to twenty minutes."
Sandy was relieved to hear the news. He wanted to be around when the doctor saw Ryan. However, he needed to call the bank and have Dave's money transferred to the office this morning. And, more importantly, he wanted to call his contacts at Social Services. He hoped that he could iron out a few details over the phone before they met with Ryan today.
"Good. That should give me plenty of time. Let me know when she gets here. I'll be in my office."
Kirsten had barely sat down on the loveseat when her phone rang. She glanced at the number and once again silently cursed. She was tempted to let it ring, but she knew her
father. If she didn't answer, he would be at her doorstep in a matter of minutes. She didn't know why he couldn't have stayed in Japan for just one more day.
"Dad," she said with forced cheerfulness. "I thought I told you I'd be in late today. Is there a problem?...You've been thinking about what I told you?" She glanced nervously at Ryan. "No, Dad. Do not come over. Sandy and I have things under control...What do you mean he can't be trusted?" She stood and started to walk towards the kitchen, but not without constantly glancing over her shoulder and checking on Ryan.
"It's okay, Mom. Go talk to Grandpa in private, because we have no idea that you're discussing Ryan." Seth stood and waved his mother out of the room. "I've got it. Watchdog Seth is on the case. I do think I might need an increase in my allowance if I have to continue guarding Ryan all the time."
At any other time she would have lectured Seth on the inappropriateness of his humor. Instead, she mouthed "thank you" and once again left the room.
"So, buddy." Seth returned and took a seat next to Ryan on the couch. Ryan glared at him. "Ouch. That look is worse than the last one. I'm sorry about the watchdog comment. I guess it was too soon for the infamous Cohen wit, huh?"
Ryan continued to glare at him.
"You're not really mad, are you? I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I really wouldn't make a very good watchdog. I'd run at the sight of an intruder. I'm more like some type of spaniel. Loyal, affectionate, a bit clingy, and a touch on the yappy side. Those are my traits. Pretty interesting stuff, don't you think? Don't let anyone ever tell you that you don't learn a lot when you watch those dog shows on t.v. Anyway, I don't think most people would think of a spaniel and a watchdog in the same terms. So you can see, I really wouldn't be very good at watching you. Plus, it kind of makes this place sound like a prison, and I mean, come on, look at it." Seth waved his arm around the room. "This would be one posh prison. I don't even think Martha Stewart had it so good when she had her little time away. Not that I've ever been to any type of prison before, even as a visitor. I would have totally visited you in Juvie, but I didn't know you then. And from what I understand, you weren't in there long enough to receive visitors. But if I had known you and you'd been in there awhile, I'd have totally been there for you. Well, not literally. I mean I wouldn't have been your cell mate or anything. I'm not cut out for the big house. Basically, all I'm trying to say is that we both know I'm not really your watchdog. If anything, I'm more like a babysitter."
Ryan turned his head, shooting Seth another look that made him shift a little farther away on the couch.
"Okay. I see your point. Maybe babysitter isn't the right term either. For one, I don't really have any experience babysitting. It's not like I have any younger brothers or sisters to watch. Dad always said that they broke the mold after I was born. I prefer not to think about all the different meanings behind that statement. And we're all aware of the fact that you don't need me to take care of you. You could totally kick my ass any time you wanted to. Not that you ever would, would you? Because we're friends, right? I don't have a lot of experience with friends, but I don't think they do that sort of thing. You know, I don't even know how old you are. That could shoot the whole babysitting thing down, too. You could be older than me. We never really got around to talking about when our birthdays are. I'll be sixteen on January 29. Which is good. I think I need a few more months to practice my moves before asking Summer on a real date with my own wheels. Not that I'm going to automatically going to get my own car as soon as I get my license. I'm pampered, but not spoiled. Which leads me to sometimes speak before thinking. Which brings us back to my earlier comment. Which ..."
"Seth," Ryan said sharply. "It's okay. I'm not mad at you. Could you, could you please just be quiet for just a little bit? Please."
"Sure thing, buddy. I can do that. My lips are sealed. El zippo'ed. You won't hear another word out of me until you are ready to talk. I won't say another word. Not one word."
"Seth!"
"Oh yeah, sorry."
Seth didn't know what had went on this morning between Ryan and his parents, but he knew something major had just happened. He did realize that his new friend might need a little space. He could do that. He could let Ryan sit here in peace and quiet and let him gather his thoughts. He would wait until Ryan was ready to talk to him. He was not going to pester him with constant talking and endless questions.
He lasted forty-two seconds.
"So you want to tell me what you and my folks talked about this morning?"
"I thought..."
"I know. I know." Seth interrupted. "But technically if you tell me what happened, I wouldn't be talking, you would. And believe it or not, my friend, I can be a very good listener. Besides, I'm going to find out sooner or later anyway, and I'd rather hear your side of it. Come on, spill. It's not good to keep things locked up inside all the time. You could develop an ulcer."
"You're not going to shut up until I tell you, are you?"
"Pretty much."
Ryan sighed in defeat.
"Fine. Remember those nice, safe, happy places we talked about last night?"
"Yes."
"Well, it looks like I'm on my way to one."
"Really? Are you sure? Of course you're sure. It's just that I thought my dad..." He couldn't believe it. His dad had never let him down before. "When?"
"I'm not sure. Today or tomorrow, I guess. If not, a week at the most."
"Dude, I'm sorry. That sucks."
Ryan nodded his head in agreement.
Seth nodded too. Then, not a minute later he jumped off the couch. "I've got it. Eu-freakin-reka, I've got it! And before you ask what I'm talking about, I mean a solution to our problem. Technically, it's your problem, but we've already established that we're friends so therefore, your problems are my problems."
He could see that Ryan was getting frustrated again.
"Sorry. I'm talking about the whole getting stuck in a group home problem. I could ask my parents for you to live here with us. They've never said no to me before."
"I don't think so, Seth."
"Why not? We've got all these extra rooms and a pool house that we only use when my wayward aunt decides to show up. It could work."
"I'm a thief."
"We all know you tried to steal a car, but that was a one time thing. Lesson learned, and all that, right?"
"No, it wasn't a one time thing. I steal all the time. Cars, purses, wallets, you name it. If it isn't nailed down, I can steal it."
"Really?"
"Really. I don't think I'm the type of kid your parents are going to want around on a permanent basis. I think I'm what you call a bad influence."
"But..."
"Just drop it, Seth. It's never going to happen."
Seth did manage to sit there quietly for the next few minutes, until Ryan stood up.
"Um," Seth began, nervously.
"Down, boy. I'm only going to the bathroom."
ococococococococococococococ
Kirsten and Sandy walked into the living room at almost the exact same time.
"Where's Ryan?" Kirsten asked, clearly concerned.
"Wow. I just got a case of deja vu. That's the same thing you said to me last night, and just like last night, I've got it covered. He went to the bathroom. You don't need to worry. I've been listening for the front door, and he hasn't tried to make a break for it."
Kirsten ran into the hall.
"Ryan, Ryan, are you in there?" she called and knocked on the door.
"Uh, Mom, sometimes a man needs a little privacy."
"Seth, how long ago did Ryan leave the room?"
"I don't know. I'm not timing him. That would be gross."
"There is a window in this bathroom."
"Oh, I didn't think of that."
Kirsten didn't take time to comment. She reached up and retrieved a key from the top of the door frame.
"When did you hide the key up there?"
"After you locked yourself in the bathroom three times in one week," she managed to answer while fumbling with the lock.
"Give a guy a break. I was only four, okay seven, but..."
Neither one said another word, as Kirsten opened the door to an empty bathroom. The window was open and the curtains were blowing in the soft breeze.
She turned and cried out, "Sandy, I need you. Ryan's gone."
He was one step ahead of her. He had already called down to the front gates as soon as he saw Ryan wasn't with Seth.
"What do you mean you didn't get my message?...I know you change shifts at seven...Never mind that now, did you see the boy I described?...You did. Good. Can you still see him? Can you stop him?...What?... When?...Can you describe the driver or the truck?...Son of a bitch!"
Sandy hurled the phone against the wall, smashing it to pieces.
"Call the police. He's got him, honey. That bastard's got his hooks in Ryan again."
tbc