II. The Boy's Gone Home
Someday is the property of Sugar Ray.
The Boy's Gone Home is the property of Jason Mraz.
"You should sue her," instructs Paul, straightening his seatbelt.
Zack fools with the zipper on his backpack, stares out the backseat window of Gary Rubenstein's, Paul's uncle, Civic. Suing the woman whose car he crashed into was the last thing he'd been thinking of during those strange five minutes. He thought the opposite actually, that she'd be angry with him for being so careless with his board, not looking in the right direction. Instead, she appeared shaken, like he had a third head. Good thing he had to meet Paul so they could go over to Buzz Comics.
"She was the one that was out of it," explains Zack. "Staring at me all weird."
"Well, you're not that ugly, so that's not the problem," jokes Paul.
"Very funny," says Zack. "But have you ever felt like you met someone before...like, even if you don't know their name?"
"A few times," answers Paul. "Then the feeling goes away."
Well, this feeling isn't going away. In fact, it's pretty strong, so strong the image of her face is registered in his mind. Still, he would never see her again, so what's the point? He should focus anyway, on what he came to do. He was a bit surprised that his parents agreed to the trip, but Paul kept hammering in the fact that he was only getting one bar mitzvah and that he'd like to celebrate beforehand with one of his dearest friends. He actually used the word dearest. Ugh, thought Zack, but it worked. It's no wonder Paul never gets punished; he can influence any adult. That power actually also got Paul's father to pay for the plane tickets, and Chris Crewe paid for Zack's Leafs ticket. Zack felt guilty about not telling his dad the real reason why he was going to Toronto, but doesn't he have the right to find out more about himself? It isn't easy to walk around with so many questions, is it?
"What you fellas talking about?" asks Gary Rubenstein, adjusting his rear view mirror.
"Nothing," reply Zack and Paul at the same time.
"Oh, evasive, huh?" chuckles Gary. "That can only mean you're talking about girls."
"Uhhh...," starts Paul.
"I got so much tail in college," says Gary. "I was the BMOC."
"Not again," mumbles Paul.
"Quarterback for the football team, homecoming king," continues Gary, stroking his black beard with a hint of grey at the bottom.
Paul warned Zack that his uncle was stuck in the past, because he had such an unsatisfying job selling car parts, no wife, no kids. It resulted in him reliving the glory days over and over again.
"Asked to join Gamma Phi Gamma," whispers Paul to Zack, smiling.
"Asked to join Gamma Phi Gamma," says Gary, loudly, not hearing the boys.
Gary continues on, with Paul and Zack ignoring him. Zack unzips his backpack, peers in.
"All those from your treasure chest?" whispers Paul.
Zack nods. "The comic book, the issue of the Grapevine, a pack of skateboard decals, and a Degrassi sweatshirt."
"And you got it on your birthday? That's a strange present."
Zack thinks back to his birthday, with Gary now talking about how he'd been offered to model for his college's MVP trophy. Lindsay Crewe always made a big deal of his birthday; she said you only get so many before you're off to college. She was always so sensitive, maybe because she was a nurse who worked with terminally ill kids, guessed Zack. The fact that she couldn't have kids, which she told Zack about when he was ten, lead to his adoption and his father's very strict rules. All in all, Zack tried to obey them as much as possible, emphasis on the word try. At school, a much different story. He got bored easily, as did a lot of his fellow students. He'd rather his fellow students laugh, then sleep, so yeah, he pulled many a prank. But the day they told him about the treasure chest, he thought that was a prank.
"You gotta be kidding me," said Zack. "A treasure chest? What, like from a pirate ship? Not Johnny Depp, last time I checked."
Chris and Lindsay sat down next to him on his bed, Lindsay stroking his hair.
"We were waiting for the right time to give it to you," replied Lindsay. "We think you're mature enough to take care of what's inside, handle what's inside."
Chris goes outside for a moment, comes back with a grey, locked box the size of two lunchboxes. Zack's pulse races, and he runs a hand through his hair.
"What is inside?" asked Zack.
"We're not sure," informed Chris. "It's yours, so we haven't opened it. It's your decision what to do with it."
"It's a gift from your birth parents," explained Lindsay.
"My birth parents," said Zack to himself.
At that point, he hadn't been thinking too much about them. He figured they didn't want him so why think too much about them? Plus it hurt a bit to think his father was dead. Alright, it hurt a lot. Zack's eyes start to water.
"Will you guys stay with me while I open it?" he asked.
Lindsay and Chris smiled at each other, nodded. Chris presented him with a key.Taking a deep breath, Zack took the key, unlocked the chest. A grin immediately formed on his lips when he opened it. A comic book. How'd they know he would like to read them? He assumed his dad would know. Skateboard decals. Very, very cool, and maybe he'd use them someday. A newspaper? Hmmm, he'd just signed up to work on the newspaper, mainly because Veronica kept harrassing him about it. And the sweatshirt? That was pretty nice. He put on the sweatshirt, his parents staring at him with concerned faces.
"Feels warm," he said, sniffling.
Lindsay cried a bit, Chris hugging Zack to his chest.
II.
Paul elbows Zack, the image of himself opening the chest fading.
"We're here, men," says Gary, grinning.
"What time did that Isaacs guy want to meet with you?" questions Paul, as he and Zack get out of the car.
"Two thirty," says Zack.
"Dude!" cries Paul. "That's in seven minutes."
"Man!" exclaims Zack. "Thanks, Mr. Rubenstein."
"I'll be back in an hour," says Gary.
Zack and Paul run to the building that houses Buzz Comics, a tall, brick building with a large grey sign announcing the address in front of it. They go inside, see a receptionist popping gum in her mouth, talking loudly on the phone.
"Just because we made some hot videos that got online somehow doesn't mean I'm not good enough for her son, you know?" complains the woman. "I mean, she used to be a stripper so..."
She looks at the boys, annoyed.
"We don't give out free samples, munchkins," says the receptionist.
"I have an appointment with Toby Isaacs," assures Zack. "Zack Crewe, two-thirty."
The girl pops her gum again, checks something on the computer, dials a number after putting her friend on hold. She hits speaker phone when Toby picks up.
"Toby, some kid is here to see you," says the woman.
"Amy, it would help if I knew the name," says Toby over the speakerphone.
"Who am I, your secretary?" snaps Amy. "You aren't my boss."
Zack and Paul glance at each other, shrugging.
"His name's Jack or Zack or something," supplies Amy. "Happy?"
"Very," says Toby, dryly. "He's clear. Send him up."
Amy clicks him off, hands Zack a visitor's badge, points him to the elevator. Paul stares at Amy, hopefully.
"Can I go up?" asks Paul.
"No," answers Amy. "This isn't ESPN Zone, okay? You can't just go walking around without clearance. I have to tell people when I'm going to the vending machines when I freakin' want a stick of gum, so why should I let a little brat wander around?"
"I'll...get you some more gum from the vending machine," offers Paul.
"Bazooka Joe?" says Amy.
"Whatever you want, miss," replies Paul.
"Machine's next to Toby's office," says Amy, handing him a dollar. "Fourth floor."
Amy hands Paul a badge, then starts to chat with her friend again.
"That was interesting," says Paul, hitting the up button on the elevator.
"Hope Mr. Isaacs isn't that mean," says Zack, as they board the elevator. "But he sounded nice when he agreed to do this."
The elevator goes up, chiming when it hits the fourth floor. Zack and Paul enter, both smiling at the same time. It definitely looks like a fun place to work, graphic art plastering the walls from various comic book series; computer screens showing different stages of production; action figures on cubicle desks. There were a lot of cubicles, but Toby told Zack to look for the one with a lot of Black Adolescent, the archnemesis of the Crimson Kid, art.
"I want to die here," gushes Zack, shouldering his backpack.
"I want to get married here," says Paul.
"To a girl that loves Carrey and comic books as much as you?" says Zack. "Good luck with that."
"I'm going to get gum," says Paul.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," cautions Zack. "Which isn't much."
Paul laughs, nods, heads in another direction. Zack takes out a notepad with his list of questions, then searches around the offices. He finally spies a cubicle with several images of the Black Adolescent on the wall. Looking in, he sees a man with glasses, dressed in a loose-fitting shirt and jeans, really Zack's ideal work outfit. This is going to be cool, he thinks.
"Mr. Isaacs?" asks Zack.
"Hi," greets Toby. "You must be Zack. Hope you didn't get lost."
Toby rises from his chair, shakes hands with Zack. Under the lenses of Toby's glasses, Zack thinks he sees a trace of surprise, but it passes.
"No, sir," replies Zack.
"You can call me Toby. I'm not that old."
"Alright. Thanks for meeting with me."
"No problem."
Zack glances around at prints of the Crimson Kid zapping different villains with his laser gun, coasting on his skateboard made of steel, fire coming out of it from underneath. No wonder his dad liked it.
"Can I just say that you have the coolest job ever?" cries Zack. "I mean, you get to work on comics."
"It's a great industry," agrees Toby. "Hopefully, I can give you some decent insight into it."
"I figured I'd have better luck with an editorial assistant, and I want a young opinion."
"Sounds wise to me. We're also easier to track down."
Zack laughs. "Yeah. So why the Crimson Kid?"
III.
Toby leans back in his office chair, pretending to soak in every word as Zack asks him question after question. In the back of his mind, he thought this kid looked like someone he's met before, especially the eyes when he got excited. Sure, he himself got excited about working on upcoming issues, especially if it meant a storyline with the Black Adolescent, a character he co-created with his wife for the storyboard artists, but it couldn't match this twelve-year old's excitement.
Twelve years old. He barely remembers being that age, though it certainly wasn't several hundred years ago. His clearest memories were at Degrassi, with J.T., Emma, Manny, and Liberty. Well, that and the summer before he came to Degrassi. Jeff Isaacs made him go to this pretty lame summer camp, North Week Summer Camp, because he thought his son was too much of a loner. We just moved to Toronto, Toby tried to point out. Of course, I don't know anyone. He wasn't like Ashley, who went shopping with Terri every weekend. Kate was the one who convinced them to move out of their house. Jeff didn't want to hear it, telling him it would be good to get out, meet new people. But meeting his new best friend there was the last thing Toby expected.
Unfastening his suitcase, Toby Isaacs lugs it inside the cabin, cursing himself for bringing all this junk. Most of the beds were already taken, except for a bottom bunk in the small corner. He sees one kid laying on the top bunk, chuckling as he reads a comic book. It's the only one left, he thinks, going over there. He starts to undo the sheets, spying something yellow and squishy in the center. Vomit.
"Gross!" cries Toby, inching back.
The boy above him laughs loudly, leaps off his bed onto the floor. He picks up the squishy thing, squeezes it.
"Fake vomit," sighs the boy. "Works everytime. Why did you think this bunk was free?"
"You...," starts Toby.
"Easy, tiger," says the boy. "It was either that or fake feces."
"Fake feces, huh?" says Toby. "Guess it could've been worse. Is there anything else I should be looking for?"
"No," says the boy. "That's it."
Toby shrugs, opens the drawer nearest his bed. A phony-looking snake is cradled in the corner.
"Nice try," says Toby, taking out the snake. "Not that dumb."
"Dude...that's real!" exclaims the boy. "I...I didn't put anything in there."
Toby drops the snake, which makes a hissing sound, and shrinks back. The boy laughs again.
"Relax," says the boy. "It's not real."
"Looks real," says Toby, picking it up.
"Yeah, I go for quality," says the boy, taking it from him. "See. It even hisses."
Toby grins. "Cool."
"Put this in my friend Manny's bookbag and she went ballistic," informs the boy.
"Girls are so much easier to scare," says Toby.
"You're telling me," agrees the boy. "I'm J.T. Thanks for not beating me up over the vomit. That's happened...before."
J.T. looks down, bites his lip.
"Toby," says Toby. "It's cool."
"This your first year?"
"Yeah, my dad made me come. Thinks I should get out more."
"That's some stupid excuse to get you out of the house," says J.T. "They like sending you away so they can hog the TV, walk around in their boxers, and watch Conan O' Brian, who's not as funny as they think, while they eat stuff they say is bad for you but don't mind eating themselves."
"And I'm betting that 'I'll miss you, Tobes' was a lie too."
"Meanwhile, we have to make lanyards and do campfire activities where we come up with witty game sayings, like 'My name is J.T., I'm from Japan, and I like jalapeno peppers.' Like the letter J is so important. Still, I'd rather run out in the woods than clean my room."
"I hear ya," says Toby. "I just hope I can survive these two weeks."
"It helps if you know the secret handshake, shared by the scrawnier and nicer guys," says J.T. "I'll show you."
J.T. positions Toby's hands above his head, claps them, then does a series of movements. This is a pretty cool handshake, thinks Toby, cool for camp anyways. Then, he teaches Toby the vocalizations, which are,unfortunately, not too cool. But hey, he's already making a friend.
"Miki Hiki Wopem, Miki Hiki Yep. Miki Hiki Wigwamp. North Week Summer Camp!" yells J.T. and Toby at the same time, doing the handshake.
"Don't you feel all warm and fuzzy all over?" says J.T., sarcastically.
"Totally," laughs Toby.
"You seem like an alright dude, so I'm willing to share a little somethin' somethin' with ya," says J.T.
"Somethin' somethin'?" says Toby, giving him a puzzled look.
"You don't watch MTV? The hip-hop countdown?"
"I watched MTV once. I'm more of a computer guy."
"Great. I'm going to have to spend the summer de-dorkifying you," jokes J.T., punching him in the shoulder. "But that's okay. I'm a big comic book dork."
"Really?" says Toby.
J.T. opens up a small bag filled with more fake vomit, a Frisbee, a clown wig, and a laminated comic book.
"The Crimson Kid," says J.T., holding the book up proudly. "Mint condish. Number one. The only keepsake I have from Dad."
"Hmmm," says Toby, evaluating it. "Never read it."
"Yeah, well, you're missing out," insists J.T. "It's a classic. This dude has a rack of special powers, and rides his flame skateboard everywhere. There's a mushy romance with this reporter chick, but you can skip all that. Going to let you read it, but be careful."
"Dude, I don't know. If it's mint condish...," begins Toby.
"We've bonded through the secret shake, Tobes," says J.T. "And I can't hang with you if you don't know the story."
Toby takes the comic book. "Thanks, man."
"Yeah, whatever," says J.T., leading him to the mess hall. "Did you know there's a girls' camp not too far from her? The counsellors are supposed to be hot. Have a thing for older women, you know what I'm saying?"
"Nice," says Toby, grinning.
That meeting with J.T. somewhat reminds him of today, maybe the way Zack is at the edge of his seat as he goes on about how the Crimson Kid has become so popular over the last twelve years. Twelve years ago, the Crimson Kid was just some book to him, nothing special like it was, but for J.T. at sixteen, the priorities were shifting too. On the day they made a treasure chest, a chest Liberty told him about after graduation, he and J.T. went for a drive to nowhere particular, the radio blasting. J.T. was telling him all about the event.
Someday, when my life has passed me by
I'll lay around and wonder why you were always there for me
One way, In the eyes of a passerby
I'll look around for another try, and all fade away
"And Danny sacrificed his beloved decals for the kid," says J.T., turning up the air conditioning.
"Wish I could've put something in," admits Toby.
"You've done so much for me and Liberty already, Tobes," says J.T. "Watching her, being there for us. Can't thank you enough."
Toby stares through the windshield at the open road. He's not sure where J.T.'s driving, but wasn't that basically like the whole year? Just heading in a direction without any knowledge? In September, the last thing he thought would happen was J.T. fathering a child. And if he was confused about how to feel about it all, he's sure that J.T. and Liberty were. Giving up their son only contributed to more emotions, emotions he can tell they're still sorting out.
"Happy to help," says Toby.
"If we kept him, you would've been the godfather," says J.T., glancing over at Toby. "At sixteen."
"Weird," whispers Toby.
"Yeah," says J.T., blowing out a deep breath. "But that's all over."
There's a tinge of disappointment in his voice, though he can tell his best friend is doing his best to cover it up. That's J.T., thinks Toby. Put on a smile, suffer inside. Although, he'd been a bit more open since his counselling sessions after the near overdose.
"And you don't like it?" supplies Toby.
"I just...I just wanted to meet him once, you know?" answers J.T. "Hear him call me Dad. I didn't get to hold him. I practiced with that stupid doll Danny forced on me, you know so he wouldn't tell Liberty's folks."
"Sorry, man," says Toby. "Maybe someday you'll get a chance."
Some say, better things will come our way
no matter what they try to say, you were always there for me
Some way, when the sun begins to shine
I hear a song from another time and I'll fade away...
"Well, nothing's set in stone, right?" replies J.T., earnestly. "I got to see him at least."
"True," says Toby, warmly.
"Plus if I dropped him on his head, I'd damage the kid," says J.T. "I'd never hear the end of it from Liberty."
They laugh.
"Never," agrees Toby.
J.T. pulls his car up to the side of the road. "Ah, here we are."
Toby looks anxiously around. They're at a cliff, not too steep, but a decent amount of space seperating the edge of the cliff from the ground, covered in high trees. J.T. gets out, and Toby reaches to turn off the radio.
"Leave it on," instructs J.T. "If I can't hear myself think, that'd be good."
"Sure," says Toby, getting out with him.
J.T. goes to the edge, stares up into the blue sky. Toby folds his arms, glances up too. There used to be a time when J.T. cracked jokes left and right, and now the jokes are few and far between.
Just close your eyes and I'll take you there
This place is war without a care
We'll take a swim in the deep blue sea
I go to leave as you reach for me
He knows that J.T. will eventually get back to normal, that him downing those pills was a moment of weakness, but honestly, it scared him, and it certainly scared Liberty. If he didn't get back to normal...well, he didn't want to think about that.
J.T. closes his eyes. The song changes over to a melancholy ballad, a sad guitar strumming.
The boy's gone. The boy's gone home.
What will happen to a face in the crowd
when it finally gets too crowded.
And will happen to the origins of sound
after all the sounds have sounded
"Why are we here, dude?" questions Toby.
"Ever since Liberty got pregnant, I come here to relax my mind," admits J.T. "I can't...you know, be worried around her."
"I...I understand," stammers Toby.
"Really want my son to have a decent life," says J.T. "My dad ditched me. Hope he doesn't feel that way."
"He won't," assures Toby.
J.T. massages his forehead. "All those plans gone up in smoke. The apartment we were going to get, the names we were thinking about."
Toby says nothing, stares at the dusty ground.
"So what are your plans, Toby?" asks J.T., suddenly.
"Um...not sure," replies Toby. "I don't think there'll be any little Tobys running around anytime soon."
"Good," says J.T. "No, there's time for that. You'll get married, get a nice fancy computer job."
"Me married? Nah?" shrugs off Toby.
"Toby, come on. I can see you stomping on that glass, dancing at your wedding."
"With who?"
"With whoever you want, man," says J.T.
They grin at one another.
Well I hope I never have to see that day
But by God I know it's headed our way
So I better be happy now that the boy's
going home. The boy's gone home.
"Maybe Kendra will come to her senses and track you down," says J.T.
"Eh, don't know about that," says Toby.
"And you have to have a cool job, because I'm pretty sure I'm going to be stuck at the convenience store for the rest of my life," says J.T. "No more TV gigs."
"You'll get back on T.V.," comforts Toby.
"If I don't, I had a good run," says J.T.
And what becomes of a day for those who
rage against it
And who will sum up the phrase for all left standing around in it
Well I suppose we'll all make our judgement call
W'll walk it alone, stand up tall, then march to the fall
So we better be happy now that we'll all go home
"Suddenly feel like I'm sixty," says J.T. "Pondering our future."
"Me too," says Toby. "But like you said, as long as it's a good run, you can die happy, I guess."
Be so happy with the way you are
Be so happy that you made it this far
Go on be happy now. Please be happy now
Because this is something else
this is something else
"Where do you go afterwards, you think?" asks J.T., staring at Toby.
"Heaven, if you're good, probably," answers Toby.
I tried to live my life and live it so well
But when it's all over is it heaven or is it hell
I better be happy now that no one can tell
nobody knows
I'm gonna be happy with the way that I am
I'm gonna be happy with all that I stand for
I'm gonna be happy now because the boy's going home.
The boy's gone home.
J.T. frowns, his eyes glazing over. "You ever wonder what it's like?"
"In synagogue, yeah," confesses Toby. "Whatever is there has to make you incredibly happy, I'm sure. Computers and hot girls for me."
J.T. laughs. "Yeah."
"And for you? Um...Crimson Kid comics and a stage to perform. No more itchy mascot uniform."
"Sweet," compliments J.T. "But that's a long ways off, you know? Eh, let's go. Wrestling's on."
"Yeah, you've got my brain hurting thinking about all this deep stuff," says Toby, chuckling.
They climb into the car, J.T. starting it. Toby snaps his seatbelt into place, glancing at J.T. He'd had so many worries that year, to the point where he'd harrassed Toby for money, but their friendship survived. Maybe fake vomit creates lasting bonds, thinks Toby, shaking his head and smiling.
"I guess what's funny is that...nah," says J.T.
"What?" encourages Toby.
"What's funny is I might get what I want in the end. That heaven is going to be the most perfect home I could hope for. More deep stuff, right?"
J.T. switches the car out of park, driving down the road.
IV.
Zack finishes writing the final words out of Toby's mouth. Toby feels bad that his mind kept wandering to moments he hadn't thought about in years, though he gave Zack a lot of nice information. J.T. would've liked to hear it too, he bet. He did get the cool job, helping to keep J.T.'s most prized possession in stores nationwide, all over the world in certain countries. The bonus was yes, being around a computer all day, like he enjoyed.
"Thanks a lot, Toby," says Zack. "This article is going to rule over all the articles in the paper."
"Hope I didn't sound too geeky," says Toby.
"Not to me," says Zack, and he's thankful because it sounds genuine.
Zack glances over at a picture of the Black Adolescent hurling a sword in the air as the Crimson Kid zips to the right of an oncoming train.
"The Black Adolescent is tight," says Zack. "You created that?"
"Me and my wife," says Toby, nodding towards a photograph in a frame.
Zack stares at Kendra, beaming as she stands in front of Degrassi Community School with two of her gymnastics students.
"A girl who likes comic books," says Zack, nodding approvingly. "You lucked out."
"I did," agrees Toby.
"Wait...she teaches at Degrassi?'
Zack picks up the frame, blinks maddeningly at it. Toby's surprised to see Zack's entire face fall, especially since he'd been enthused since he got there.
"Yeah, has for two years now," answers Toby. "We went there, met in school."
"Did you...did you know a girl named Liberty?" asks Zack.
Toby's heart speeds up as he leans forward. "Van Zandt?"
"Yeah...yeah, that's her," stutters Zack.
"We were friends," says Toby. "Close friends. She was moving, so I can't give you her number. How do you know her?"
Wordlessly, Zack starts to shake, his hands shaking more as he pulls out the copy of the Grapevine.
"She's sort of...my mom," replies Zack.
Toby lets out a deep breath, and he starts to see it, the traces of J.T. he thought he saw before now becoming brighter.
Zack takes out the mint condition of the comic book too, and yes, Toby would know that anywhere.
"That's J.T.'s," breathes Toby, staring hard at it.
"I...I didn't know his name," stammers Zack, sinking down in the chair opposite Toby's. "I don't know a lot of things."
Toby takes off his glasses, his eyes growing cloudy, but clearing again. If J.T. was looking down, what would he do, say, think? His son is here, actually here. But didn't he say that he didn't want his son to feel ditched, alone?
"Do you...do you want to know?" asks Toby.
Zack nods timidly. "Anyone that knew him and her well, maybe?"
Toby takes the newspaper, flips through. Just as he thought, there's a group picture of people preparing for the variety show that year, grade eleven. Unfortunately, J.T. wasn't in the picture, but his name was mentioned throughout.
"This is Manny Santos," says Toby, pointing to one picture. "She was good friends with your dad, and your mom later on. Maybe she has Liberty's number. She teaches dance at the community center."
Zack writes down her name hurriedly, Toby seeing that his eyes are tearing up. Still, he thinks he should keep going. Flipping to another picture, he sees Paige, and Zack records her name. He also gives Zack information for Danny, Emma and Mia.
"Is that enough?" asks Toby.
"Yeah...more than enough, and thanks," says Zack. "Can I have a tissue or something?"
Toby hands him a tissue, gives him a pat on the shoulder.
"This is some really funny, messed up fate," whispers Zack, wiping his eyes.
Toby laughs. "Sounds like J.T.'s type of fate."
"I wish...wish I could meet him," says Zack.
"He said the same thing about you," says Toby.
Zack finally smiles again. "Did he know a lot of cool stuff like you?"
"I think so," replies Toby. "There was this handshake we did."
"Can I see it?" asks Zack.
"Raise up your arms," instructs Toby.
Zack gently raises his arms, Toby doing the movements, all of them coming to him, like he had the same partner, the same boy who actually didn't leave, wasn't watching down on them from his new home.