"You did what?" Gus demanded, absolutely dumbstruck.
"I enrolled in the Police Academy." Shawn repeated, like it wasn't any big deal.
Gus stared at him across the Psych desk, his eyes as wide as tractor trailer tires.
"Why?"
Shawn gritted his teeth.
This was the part he was dreading.
"Because I really want to be a cop."
The words actually hurt coming out of his throat…like tiny, serrated daggers…
For once in his life, he felt guilty about lying to Gus, but he didn't have a choice. The Chief had made it very clear that being undercover meant he couldn't tell anyone what he was really doing.
Not even Gus.
"No, you don't." Gus snorted. "You haven't wanted to be a cop since you were nine!"
"Sure, I have." Shawn argued without conviction, slumping onto the couch.
"No…" Gus shook his head thoughtfully. "It went cop…superhero…back to cop…professional mattress tester…astronaut…I think you wanted to be a dog trainer at some point…"
"Attack dog trainer." Shawn corrected.
"Still. Cop hasn't been on your possible career list in twenty years! Why now? What's going on, Shawn?"
Shawn just shrugged.
"Why not now?" He mumbled.
It was his default line when it came to taking jobs or trips or stupid risks of any kind.
Gus had heard it a thousand times before.
"Why not now?" Gus shouted, finally losing his last ounce of patience. "You didn't even tell me! That's why not! We're supposed to be partners, Shawn! What about Psych? We still have six months left on our lease!"
Shawn sighed.
"I didn't tell you because I didn't know if I was even going to get in until I took the test last Saturday…but I got in. And it's not like I have to live at the Academy, Gus. I have class from 7 to 5 every day, weekends off. No big deal. It's not going to change anything. We can still take cases. We'll just work nights and weekends."
"I am not working nights and weekends, Shawn." Gus snapped bitterly. "I already have another job. Remember?"
"It's just for six months."
"Six months?"
"Yeah."
Gus was furious. He pushed back from the desk and stood up.
"You just put my life on-hold for six months and you didn't even bother to tell me?!" He fumed, glaring at his best friend.
Shawn looked down at the floor, but didn't say anything.
Gus wouldn't have heard him, anyway, as he had already stormed out of the room without even looking back.
Shawn groaned as he hit the screaming alarm and rolled back over.
It's not time to get up…
It can't be time to get up…
It's dark outside…
He glanced over at the clock, which read 6:00.
6? He thought, his mind still dull from sleep.
…It's dinner time…?
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open as the realization dawned on him.
Oh, God.
It's not that 6 o'clock…
It's the other one…
…The bad one…
He groaned again and pulled the pillow over his head.
He hated the Police Academy already, and it was only his first day.
He finally forced himself out of bed, but his early morning didn't get any better when he saw the blue uniform hanging on his chair.
Oh, God…
I actually have to wear that thing!
He glared at it spitefully for a minute, as if the uniform could actually perceive his malice, then slowly pulled the pants on and buttoned up the shirt.
I hate blue…
But the worst part was definitely the black, shiny shoes, which were sitting on the floor by the bathroom door.
He groaned for the third time in only seven minutes as he stepped over them to brush his teeth.
They look like…grown-up shoes…
He slipped his feet into them on his way back out of the bathroom, wincing as if they were filled with thumbtacks.
Finally, after strapping on the gun Lassiter had loaned him, he was ready to go.
He looked at himself in the mirror as he walked out the door, hoping it wasn't as bad as he thought it was…
But it was.
It was that bad.
I look like my dad…
I can actually feel my hair thinning…
He pulled his hat down low over his brow as he stepped out of the apartment and shut the door behind him, just praying he wouldn't run into anyone he knew.
His first class was called Patrol Tactics.
Who the hell wants to learn about patrol tactics at 7 o'clock in the morning? He wondered resentfully as he slid into his seat mere seconds before it was supposed to begin.
He looked around at the other eager cadets, who were buzzing about the room and talking to each other as they got pencils and pads ready.
Most of them, he noticed, were quite a bit younger than him.
Great…
I'm going bald and I'm old…
That's just perfect.
He sighed and pulled out his own notebook, ready for a riveting hour of pointless doodling.
"All right," a familiar, gruff voice suddenly cut through the air. "Find a seat. Let's get started."
Shawn dropped his pen and looked up at the front of the room in horror.
No…He pleaded silently. No no no no no no…
Not him…
Anyone but him…
But no amount of wishing, pleading or praying would change the fact that his father was standing in front of the class, apparently about to teach.
What the hell is he even doing here…?
Henry didn't seem to notice Shawn as he glanced down at his watch and dropped a stack of books on the table.
"This is Patrol Tactics." He said, addressing the class. "If you're not supposed to be here, get the hell out."
Shawn had to stop himself from making a mad dash for the door.
He slid down as low as he could into his seat, praying his father wouldn't see him over the student in front of him.
Don't see me…
Don't see me…
Not here…
Not in a uniform…
"Take out your books," Henry continued, turning to the chalkboard. "…and if you sit any lower in your chair, Shawn, you're going to fall on your ass."