Title : Fathers and Sons, Chapter 6
Author : Dani Kin
Genre: Drama
Rating: PG-13
Summary : Being a parent is never easy and family relationships never run smooth. Now the warden finds out there is trouble at the Lil Gifted Kids School.
Beta: Sharelle in the mornin', sharelle in the evenin', sharelle at supper time….. With special thanks to dal_niente for being my creative consultant.
~~~~~~~~~M~~~~~~~~
He had barely walked into the schoolhouse before stopping dead in his tracks and taking in the fact that every surface was covered in what appeared to be blue paint. Oh, lord. That and the fact that the school was now in a completely different location, as well as the thin reedy tone of voice of the teacher when she called him this afternoon, added up to nothing good.
"Sit down, Mr. Woodridge. We have to discuss some very serious matters concerning your… son," she said frostily. The placement of the pause in there put him further on edge.
"Look, I know Blue can be a handful but he's a good kid –" the warden started, but he was quickly interrupted.
"We have a list of incidents that show otherwise. He rarely pays attention in class and has very limited social skills." The woman spoke as though she was reading from some kind of prepared speech and that annoyed him.
"Well, that was one of the reasons for sending him to school, so he would learn them," the warden replied, and then instantly regretted the way it made him sound like he was trying to be a smart ass. "Look, I just know that things have been a bit rough since the incident with the popcorn but I think if you just give him a little time to settle in –"
She continued as though nothing he said made any difference. "Mr. Woodridge, in the three months that boy has been here he has set fires, broken windows, and personally threatened me with a dodgeball. The damage would be worse If not for the Scott boy being able to rein him in. He could seriously injure another child. And I'm afraid that's not the kind of behavior we are equipped to handle at this facility." She laced her fingers together and meeting his eyes.
"Then there is the matter of the explosive device he set off today."
"With all due respect, a little paint does not constitute an explosive device," the warden said defensively.
"We have a very strict zero tolerance policy at this school towards weapons, including explosives, Mr. Woodridge. Now you may be used to rough behavior from the criminals in your facility but that is not appropriate behavior her at the Lil' Gifted School!" her voice becoming shrill.
The warden rolled his eyes. The kid had gotten paint everywhere. He didn't blow up the building
"He might do better in a facility that caters towards children who have severe behavioral problems," the woman finished.
"Excuse me?" The warden was so shocked at that statement that he could only blink at her for a moment. "If his problems are this severe why is this the first I'm hearing of them? I knew about the incident with the popcorn but there have been no other communications-"
She cut him off again. "Mr. Woodridge. You're not his parent. You're not even his legal guardian," she lectured him sternly and crossed her arms. "I'm not even sure if you have the authority to enroll the boy in school."
"Funny, that wasn't brought up when I paid the money to enroll him." The warden mimicked her nasty tone and narrowed his eyes at the woman.
"Well, these issues were raised by a parent of another student in the class who did some looking into the matter. The fact is you misled us and exposed vulnerable children to a boy with a history of violent and dangerous behavior problems."
He gaped at her. There was no way they were talking about his kid. Blue wouldn't knowingly hurt a fly. All he did was constantly try to impress Wayne Scott and the rest of the children with his creative inventions and try to get their attention in his own theatrical way even though he was different.
Then the extension of that line of reasoning hit him like a ton of bricks.
"Which parent?" The chill in his voice surprised even him. "Which parent is making the complaints and 'looking into the matter'?"
"I don't see how that's relevant," the woman stammered.
"Oh, I think it's plenty relevant. If there is an issue with Blue and the Scott boy, then why the hell aren't his parents here?"
"The Scotts, as well as other parents, have made their feelings perfectly clear to me. We cannot continue to accommodate a child that threatens the welfare of this institution."
The warden responded slowly, thinking aloud. "You mean you cannot continue to accommodate a student whose very existence might lead to more questions than the Scott family wants to answer, don't you?"
The teacher narrowed her eyes at him. And everything suddenly became clear.
"That's why he is here," he continued, "Why they founded this school. To hide him in plain sight. And Blue doesn't exactly hide does he? He might expose the fact that Wayne Scott isn't human."
"Your 'son' doesn't strike me as particularly human either," she replied curtly.
"Well, I may not be his father, but I do have the authority to remove him from an environment that clearly doesn't seem to have his best interests at heart. Good day, ma'am," he said curtly and marched out of the building.
His anger seemed to increase with every step as he walked to his car, threw himself inside the vehicle, and slammed the door. Then he released a ragged breath. How did this all get so wrong? This was supposed to be a good place for him. It was a gifted and talented school with another goddamn alien on the roster, for crying out loud! Where the hell else was he ever going to belong better than this?
Jesus. Problems this severe didn't happen overnight. This must have been building for months.
And the boy didn't tell him. It was like pulling teeth to get that boy to give up anything, even when he knew it was important. But without even knowing that things were going so wrong…..
Dammit, that made it all make sense.
There had been signs - giant blinking signs - that something was wrong. The boy had been quieter than usual since he started at that school. After the fiasco with the popcorn maker, he spent all his free time sketching out more inventions and hours building things that the warden didn't quite understand (like gun that made little glowing cubes) because the boy refused to tell him what it was for. He would only make vague pronouncements about how this would be the one, or how impressed the other children would be.
And he knew the kid was somewhat bored, but what child wasn't sometimes bored in school? He seemed to be learning something in the English and social science classes but the math classes bored him to tears. He wouldn't say anything about music except that he didn't like to sit in the circle with the other kids.
And here the warden had been, like a fool, telling him to give it time, telling him to do good in school, telling him to just be himself and try harder next time. Which the boy had taken literally as he kept trying to build something that would curry their favor. The warden realized he had inadvertently been making the whole situation worse because each time the boy would fail he would get the message to blame himself, and try harder.
Fuck fuck fucking fuck.There was a tinge of heartbreak in that realization, but mostly there was anger.
Anger at the bitch of a teacher who would let something like this go on. Anger at the Scotts, thinking they could do whatever they wanted because they had money. Anger that their kid, who could throw his considerable power around and use it to bully someone who was markedly different so no one would look twice at him. Anger at the other kids who just let it happen ,and anger at the boy for not telling him.
And anger at himself for not knowing. He should have known. Dammit, he should have seen it. He knew him better than anyone, except maybe Minion. He knew something was wrong, he knew the boy was acting strangely. He knew he was struggling, but he thought it was just an adjustment period after a lifetime of social isolation and he was trying to give the boy space. But he should have pressed harder, he should have called the school, he shouldn't have fallen down on this.
Fuck.
He started the car and the thoughts just continued to come. These children had probably been prejudiced against him from the start. A scrawny bald blue boy in a prison uniform? Oh that would make for a hell of a first impression. If only he had forced the boy to wear those jeans.
Getting a bus to drive him less than a block? Yeah that was fucking stupid. How was he supposed to be seen as normal being dropped off in a prison bus? Not to mention the fact that the pair of guards he had tasked with dropping him off returned to the prison laughing hysterically at the prank they had pulled by bringing him into the building in chains.
"We thought it would be funny," one of the guards had offered lamely. The irritated look on the warden's face and the sharp reassignment to yard duty quickly confirmed that it was not, in fact, funny.
And then the inventions. He should have asked why the hell the kid was building a helmet anyway, and he should have pressed him - forced him - to explain what was going on. Instead of just letting him flounder willy-nilly until he lashed out.
The warden felt ashamed. This was all his fault. He had failed so totally as a parent that his child was incapable of interacting with a peer group. He should have been a better parent.
Fuck fuck fucking fuck.
He pulled out of the parking lot with his hand at his temple, raging at the unfairness of it all.
~~~~~~~~M~~~~~~~
When he got back to the prison he made a beeline for that familiar little cell.
"Blue! Get over here this minute, young man." He tried to keep a handle on the tempest of frustration and guilt roiling inside himself, but he was probably failing at that too.
The boy didn't look surprised. He got up from where he was sitting on the bed and stood in front of the warden warily.
"You're not going to be going back to that school anymore."
The blue boy looked relieved and then guilty, which then morphed into an odd little smile.
"Is it because I'm the bad boy?" he asked excitedly.
"What? No," the warden shook his head at the silly question. "But I know you set of a paint bomb and made a giant mess," the warden spoke harshly.
"It's not my fault! They called me Mr. Blueberry Head," the boy replied defiantly, as though that was justification.
The warden sighed and started to respond. "That is no excuse, young man. Children… can be mean sometimes-"
"The teacher didn't stop them. She would just watch," the boy interrupted him angrily.
His eyes narrowed. That bitch. So it was worse than he thought.
"Blue, what the hell happened with you and Wayne Scott?" the warden asked, crossing his arms.
The boy's lips tightened.
"I'm the bad guy."
"What does that mean?" the warden asked, baffled.
"He has superpowers, daddy!" Blue crossed his arms across his chest and his tone resentful. "He can fly and he's invulnerable and he has hair! And it always looks perfect!"
The warden just blinked at him. "What does his hair have to do with anything?"
"You're not listening!" the boy actually stomped his foot. "He has superpowers, and everything I do is wrong! It's all bad! He is the good guy and I'm the bad guy!"
"Blue, everything you do is not bad-" the warden started but the boy started yelling.
"And I'm good at it! I'm smart and they're not nearly so smart, especially not stupid Wayne with his stupid stars. So I made them blue to see how they liked it." The boy scowled , then gave an impression of the evil little laugh from playing superheroes.
"Blue, I understand that these kids were pretty rotten to you, but that is not an excuse to cover everything in paint," the warden said exasperated.
"They hate me," the boy said defensively.
"They don't hate you. They don't know you. They just…. They see someone who is different and that scares them."
"I'm scary?" his eyes got wide.
"No." God, he was explaining this wrong. "They just see you and they think that they can pick on you. Because you're different. But it won't be that way forever. You'll grow up and get out there in the world and see that you can make things however you want them to be."
The boy took that in with a funny smile. "Whatever I want?"
The warden hoped to god so. Because he had no idea what the hell to tell this kid otherwise. He had underestimated how much everyone was going to take one look at the boy and see a freak. He had underestimated it a lot.
~~~~~~~~M~~~~~~~
When he got back to his office he slammed the door and paced. Hell of a fucking day. He thought about having a scotch, but the idea of sitting still to sip it made him feel nauseous. He had too many thoughts racing through his head.
Maybe he had been all wrong to hide the boy. After all, it's not like anyone had come looking for him in the last eight years. He had let his paranoia rule him. Now the child had no clue about life outside this prison.
The kid couldn't spend his whole life trapped here, and clearly even pre-screening safe places like that school was a crapshoot. He deserved to be able to go out and make his own way in the world. Travel. Learn more then he could just get out of books. There must be some people out there who would enjoy his intelligence instead of holding it against him.
And screw the Scott family, just screw them. They had the money and power and connections to build an entire school just for their precious little alien darling. There was no doubt in the warden's mind that the Scotts didn't cower and look around corners when it came to their son. They probably had these plans lined up since he was in diapers. Wayne Scott looked human enough to pass as their biological child and or at least one they could have easily adopted.
No one was ever going to challenge their ability to enroll their son at school, he thought bitterly. Because everyone will always believe that he's theirs. That was not a luxury he would ever have. Plus, he had nothing - nothing - to showed that Blue even existed, much less was his.
Blue didn't have a birth certificate or a social security number. Was he a citizen? Would he need a green card? How was he going to function in society as an adult without any legal paperwork proving his existence? The tension finally overcame the warden and he had to sit down.
He had been going about this all wrong, all kinds of wrong. He didn't need to protect the boy from the world by hiding him from it. He needed to turn this anger into something productive. He needed to play the game. Clearly that's the way the Scott's were handling their unusual circumstances and he had just been colossally outplayed.
He stuck his head outside the office and shouted to his receptionist. "Bernice, get me the number for Franklin Jacobs."
"Franklin Jacobs the lawyer?" she asked in surprise.
He resisted the urge to snark back something like 'No, Franklin Jacobs the potter' and instead simply snapped, "Yes." He went back in his office and resumed pacing.
Franklin Jacobs was the most hard-nosed and most expensive lawyer in Metro City. He was more than just aggressive; he was well connected and manipulative as fuck. The warden had met the man in court a few times and each time had been distinctly unpleasant. Being cross-examined by him was like being constricted by a patient yet hungry python.
Jacobs was also rumored to be on personal retainer to the Scott family. So if there was anyone in this city who might know how to get documentation for an alien child it was going to be him. Jacobs was the best. And the warden knew if he was going to do this, he needed to do it right.
He poured himself that glass of scotch and tipped it back. Soon Bernice brought him the number and the warden swallowed nervously before dialing. People like Jacobs understood power.
"You've reached the office of Jacobs and Associates. How may I direct your call?" an overly cheerful receptionist answered.
"This is James Woodridge, warden at the Metro City Prison for the Criminally Gifted. I need to speak to Mr. Jacobs. Personally." He kept his voice even and firm, but not too forceful.
"Do you have an appointment for a conference call?" the receptionist asked.
"No." He let the silence hang in the air.
"Is this about a client?" she tried desperately to clarify, a bit taken aback.
"Yes." Again he let the silence speak for him.
The woman stammered at him for a moment then put him on hold. After a moment or two of banal saxophone music, he finally heard the recognizable voice of the man he was calling.
"James Woodridge. Not someone I expect to call me out of the blue. Has one of our clients done something at the prison that we should know about?" Jacobs characteristic drawl managed to make him sound both aggressive and bored at the same time.
"No, this isn't about a prisoner. It's something of a more….. personal nature. I'm looking to engage legal counsel," the warden said, trying to keep his tone even and measured.
The man on the phone scoffed. "If that's what you need I can transfer you to our appointment clerk and-"
"No. I want you to handle this matter." He interrupted abruptly, but he was careful not to give it away. He could hear the wheels turning in the other man's mind.
"And what type of matter would that be?" Jacobs asked, with an air of practiced detachment.
The warden took a deep breath before speaking again.
"First, I want your personal assurance this is not something you're going to hand off to one of your flunkies on their first year out of law school or your yes-men junior partners. The fewer people that know about this the better." There was a long silence and the warden's heart was in this throat, waiting to see how that would go over.
"Acceptable. Now what type of legal assistance to do you find yourself needing, James?" the man purred.
"Immigration and citizenship." He laid it out bluntly.
"Look, I've got better things to do than help you procure a green card for your sexy housekeeper." Jacobs was almost teasing him now, and it played on his last good nerve.
" And I'm not talking about someone to clean the floors. I'm talking about a child. A child that is not merely an illegal alien, but one who actually doesn't come from this world. I believe you have handled something like this before, no?"
There was a long pause.
"I have some… experience with the unique challenges a situation like that would present."
"Good."
"But it's a long process. And I assume you would want a certain amount of discretion until matters became finalized."
"That would be correct," the warden replied a bit too quickly.
"I don't come cheap, James," Jacobs added with that slow bitter drawl.
"Money isn't an issue."
Oh, it was an issue. The warden had savings but he had no idea how much something like this could cost. But he couldn't blow the deal now by appearing weak. He would cash in his 401K or sell his stuff or something. At least he didn't have to worry about private school tuition now.
"Well then, I'm happy to welcome you to the Jacobs and Associates client roster. Let's set up something for next week. You can explain the situation and bring the child down here –"
"No. You don't need to see the boy to get this done," the warden said curtly. He couldn't open the boy up to more gawking.
Jacobs chuckled. "Fine. I'll have preliminary papers drawn up by Friday. You're a tougher man than I thought, Woodridge."