John ambled slowly alongside the old railroad tracks. Bursts of almost-identifiable whistling made the birds on the power lines start for a second, and then they returned to scanning for their next meal. Kicking up the dust, John raised his gloved hand to his ear and fingered the small diamond stud. Well, that was a different detention, he thought. Who'd have guessed? Me and the Princess. Beauty and the Beast.
The weekend had finished the way all his weekends finished – a drunken father, a tearful mother, an absent son. He'd snuck back in late last night, and glanced in to see his father passed out in his chair, bottle beside him and the ball game on the TV. Mom had long since gone to bed, and for once it was quiet.
This morning he had surprised his mother by asking if she was OK, before grabbing a doughnut and, as usual, leaving before his father woke. Hell, he'd surprised himself. It wasn't that he didn't care about what went on, it was just that when he got involved, he only succeeded in making himself the target. Sometimes it was necessary for his mother's sake, but usually he just kept away.
He stopped for a while, and looked around. He walked this way to school each day, but somehow today he was much more interested in his surroundings. From here, he could see into the distance all around. Ahead, he could make out the rooftops of the school buildings, and beyond that the river. Behind him stood the housing developments, amongst which was his home, and just the other side of there was the freeway. To his right, the office blocks rose over the trees, and to his left, the white fences and slate roofs of the rich people's homes. He'd given them no thought before, other than to inwardly despise them for their attitudes and manners, their wealth and their opportunities. But now it was different. Somewhere over there was Claire's house, and so he couldn't get so worked up today. The truth was that he really didn't know what to expect when he saw her. Would she demand the earring back, furious with herself that she gave away such an obviously valuable piece of jewellery? Would she pretend that nothing had happened, making him feel that he had to return it on his own? Or would she look at him, and let him see that the actions of Saturday's confinement had moved though thought into feelings? Just because he'd travelled down that unfamiliar road, it didn't mean that she'd walk with him. John was used to this kind of disappointment.
Shrugging his shoulders, he walked down the slope towards the underpass that would take him through to the school grounds. He'd find out soon enough.
