Title: Elsewhere

Summary: It's an emotional rollercoaster, taking care of three little boys. Especially when they're not yours, and you don't know how long they're staying.

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Chapter Nine

"She's coming," Andy said, trying to remain confident. "I know she is."

Early December snows had drifted over the ground, washing the world in lacy white. It was a week and a half after the boys had first come to stay with Troy and Sharpay, and Mary, the social worker, had arranged a visit with their mother.

Kathleen had agreed to attend a residential drug and alcohol treatment program and attend counseling and parenting classes. If she could get her life back together, it was decided, it would ultimately be better for everyone involved. Kathleen sounded like she was ready to make an effort, Troy thought, wondering how well she'd succeed. He didn't know. The visit had been scheduled for twelve thirty. . . it was one fifteen now.

The air in the tiny office was electric with anticipation. It was true, Troy realized, that kids really did harbor loyalty to their parents, no matter what kind of parents they had. He'd done a lot of reading, and several sources had examined the effects of abuse upon children. Often, they tended to transfer the blame from the perpetrators of the abuse to themselves, which, he realized, Kevin had done very strongly. Kevin. God. . . the kid had hardly said a word in the past few days. Who did he talk to? Andy?

Troy grinned. He loved Andy, but he doubted you could get much out of the kid that made any sense. A few days before he'd wandered past the boy's bedroom at night and peered through the door. Kevin and Zac were both asleep. Andy was staring out the window, murmuring softly.

"What are you doing?" Troy had whispered.

Andy looked up, not at all startled, and smiled at Troy. "The moon people," he said. "I'm singing to them."

That had prompted Troy to go over and feel Andy's forehead, expecting to find the kid burning with fever and delirious. He wasn't, though. . . his skin was cooler than it had been in days and he seemed completely lucid, except for the bizarre things he was saying.

"The moon people like it when you sing to them," Andy explained. "You have to sing the moon people song."

"How does that go?" Troy knelt next to the bed, wondering if the child was possessed.

"Moon people, moon people, moon people, moon people," Andy sang. "Everybody go to sleep. Everybody go to sleep. It's night. It's late. Everybody go to sleep."

"Everyone can see the moon people!" Andy assured him. "You just have to look. But Ike doesn't. He tells me all the moon people fell off the moon, and they're dead."

Troy tried hard not to grin. "Why'd he tell you that?"

Andy scratched his head. "I don't know. I woke him up in the middle of the night so he could see the moon people, and he said he'd rather sleep."

"Kevin certainly has his priorities mixed up," Troy commented.

"He does not!" Andy narrowed his eyes at Troy. "He's is the best older brother I ever had in my whole entire life."

"He's very nice," Troy agreed. "But he doesn't want to see the moon people?"

"No." Andy shook his head. "Even though I told him the moon people want to meet him." He smiled at Troy. "They wanted to meet you, too."

"Oh." Troy felt vaguely uncomfortable. "Hi, moon people!" He waited. "What are they saying?"

"They say they want you to sing to us," Andy said. "The moon people song."

Troy nodded. "Okay. Let me remember it." He took a deep breath. "Moon people, moon people, moon people, moon people. Everybody go to sleep. Everybody got to sleep. It's night. It's late. Andy had better go to sleep."

Andy giggled. "No, I'm not tired."

"Well, you'd better go to sleep, or I'll do a little moon peopling of my own. . ." Troy had no idea what that meant, but decided it sounded sufficiently intimidating.

"Sing it again," Andy prompted. Troy took a deep breath.

"Moon people, moon people. . ."

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Jesus, Troy thought, looking at his watch. It was nearly one thirty. Zac had climbed into Mary's desk chair and was scribbling on a piece of paper. Kevin was sitting on the edge of his chair, his feet planted firmly on the floor and his hands clasped between his knees. Head down, he contemplated the carpet. Andy was staring through the slats in the blinds, scanning the parking lot for any sign of his mother.

Troy and Mary exchanged a knowing glance. She wasn't coming.

"When's my mommy getting here?" Zac piped. He tried to remember what his mother looked like, but could only remember Sharpay. He wanted to see his mommy. He remembered that she had blond hair too and sometimes she liked him. Sometimes she didn't like him. Zac bit his lip. "She said she would come, so where is she?"

"She's coming," Andy said, hope rising in his voice. "I think I saw her in that car."

"Where?" Kevin, Mary, Troy and Zac all turned to face him at the same time. Andy squinted out the window.

"It isn't her," he decided, his voice trailing off. "It isn't. . ."

"She never does what she says she's going to do," Kevin muttered. "She doesn't even care enough to come and visit her own kids."

"Kevin. . ." Mary extended a sympathetic arm to him, but he backed away.

"Don't touch me. Please?"

Troy and Mary exchanged another glance. He wasn't going to be able to hold it in much longer. . .

"She's not coming?" Andy's lower lip quivered. "You think she's not coming, Kevin?"

"She's coming, don't worry." Zac turned around, concerned, and patted Andy on the back.

"She's coming, right Kev?"

"No," Kevin informed him, dourly.

"Don't listen to him," Zac told Andy. "She's coming."

"No she's not!" Kevin's voice sounded dangerously close to breaking.

"Yes she is, too." Andy defended, as Zac's eyes filled.

"Maybe she won't come! Maybe she forgot!"

"The three of you!" Troy interceded. "Maybe something happened to her. Maybe she ran out of gas. Maybe her car broke down. Maybe something happened and she couldn't call. I'm sure she wouldn't forget about you."

"I'm not," Kevin scowled. Troy had to admit that the kid had a point.

"My mommy hates us," Zac observed, his voice emotionless. Troy pulled him into his lap.

"She does not hate you."

"She does too." Zac rested his head against Troy's chest and put his thumb in his mouth. "She does too hate us."

"No she doesn't," Troy murmured. "No she doesn't."

"Maybe that's her. . ." Andy began, his eyes darting hopefully toward a particular car.

"Andy, she's not coming," Kevin told his younger brother.

"Yes she is! Don't say that!" Andy clenched his hands into fists and scowled. "She is too!" He thought. "Maybe we should wave out the window or something for her. Maybe she wants to come in, but she can't see where the room is."

"Honey, I don't think so," Mary began, hesitantly.

"Well, maybe she doesn't want to come in," Andy suggested. "Maybe she wants to stand in the parking lot and wave."

"She wouldn't take the time out of her busy schedule," Kevin scoffed. Troy found himself amazed by the kid. He was smart. . . you couldn't put anything past him. . . but he sensed a building desperation surrounding Kevin. . . he was someone who wasn't going to put up with much more, who couldn't put up with much more. He didn't know any eight year olds who knew so much about life, but what Kevin had seen hadn't impressed him much.

"She isn't going to come. I knew she wasn't." Kevin let out a long, shaky breath. "I didn't think that she'd come. I didn't ever believe it."

"But she said she would!" Andy struggled not to cry. "She said she would come."

"She doesn't want to see us," Kevin told him. "We should know that."

"Andy, Kevin. . ." Troy rested his chin on the top of Zac's head and wondered if there was anyway he could make this any easier, any less painful. "You know, I don't know what happened with your mother."

"Maybe she will call," Mary suggested. "We could always reschedule the visit. Would you excuse me a second? I have to go make a phone call. . ."

"See?" Troy asked, as soon as Mary left. "We can always reschedule the visit for another day."

"No we couldn't." Kevin set his jaw firmly. "Because I don't want to see her." The instant he said the words, he wished he could take them back, but he couldn't. "I don't want to see her..."

"You have to, Kev, it's Mommy!" There was a note of desperation in Andy's voice. "It's Mommy!"

"Well, if she doesn't want to see me, I don't want to see her," Kevin insisted. "I don't."

"She isn't coming," Zac said, simply. "Mommy's not coming."

"See, he knows it," Kevin told Andy. "He knows it, but you don't believe it."

"Mommy isn't coming?" Andy drew in a deep, shaky breath. "She's not?"

"No," Kevin told him.

"Buddy, it doesn't look that way," Troy began. "I wish I could tell you she was. . ."

Zac looked from Troy to Kevin. "Why does she say she's coming, and then not come?"

"Because she's a liar," Kevin told him. "You can't believe a single thing she says."

"You're a liar!" Andy burst out. "And I don't believe a single thing you say."

Troy saw a flicker of deep pain in Kevin's eyes, but it disappeared so quickly he wondered if he was imagining things. "Go ahead. See if I care."

"And Mommy's not coming," Andy said, his voice even, level and calculated, "because of you."

The room fell silent. "That isn't true," Troy said. "Andy, that isn't true at all. . ."

Kevin stood up suddenly, and dashed out the door and down the hall. Carefully, Troy set Zac into the chair and started after him.

Zac turned to his brother. "Andy, you shouldn't have said that."

"I know!" Andy wailed. He burst into tears.

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"Kevin?" Troy pushed the door to the men's' room open. "kev, are you in here?"

"I hate her, I hate her, I hate her I hate her, I hate her, I hate her, I hate her, I hate her. . ." Kevin was beating his fists against the tiled wall, taking his anger out on something that couldn't hit him back. He was seething.

"Kev, don't do that. You'll hurt yourself." Troy put his arms around Kevin to hold him away from the wall. Kevin fought against him with all the strength he could muster.

"Let me go, okay?" the tone of Kevin's voice bordered on hysterical. "Let me go!"

"Are you going to throw yourself against the wall again?" Troy asked.

"Yes," Kevin assured him.

"Sorry," Troy apologized. "I can't, in that case. You'll hurt yourself."

Kevin twisted around to face him. "Why do you care?"

Troy didn't pause. "Because I care about you. Calm down, you really will hurt yourself."

"You do not," Kevin told him. "You're lying too. Everybody lies!" He squeezed his eyes shut. Blood was trickling down his arm from where he'd scratched it on the tile. He tried to wrench out of Troy's grasp. "Just leave me alone, okay?"

"Leave you alone and let you do what, Kev? You can hit it and hit it, but you'll get hurt before the wall will." Troy's voice remained calm. "Now, what would you think of me if I let you do that?"

"I would be happy," Kevin told him. "At least I'd be dead, and I wouldn't have to see you anymore."

Troy almost grinned at that one, in spite of himself. "Yeah, that's true. Andy and Zac would be out of luck, though."

"I don't care," Worn out, Kevin had long ago stopped trying to fight his way out of Troy's grasp. "Mom can take care of them. She only likes them."

"Andy didn't mean that," Troy said, loosening his grip on Kevin, waiting to see if the kid were going to throw himself against the wall again.

"He did too." Clumsily, Kevin ran the back of his arm across his eyes, in a futile attempt to hide the fact that he was crying. "He did. . . because it's true."

"No it's not," Troy shook his head. "No it's not at all."

"Then why did she leave?" Kevin was standing against the wall, and Troy was kneeling on the floor, looking up at him. "Why did she leave? Why can't she just stick around and be like everybody else's mother?" His back against the wall, Kevin sank to the floor, shaking with the effort to hold back sobs that were threatening to overwhelm him. Troy sat down next to him.

"I wish I knew, Kev, I wish I knew. But it wasn't because of you. It didn't have anything to do with you."

Kevin looked up. "I should have stopped her."

Troy looked directly into his eyes. "How?"

"I should have," Kevin repeated. "I don't know how. . ."

"Yeah, because that's not your job," Troy told him, gently. "You can't be responsible for what your mother does because she's a grown-up. She makes her own choices. And when she makes a bad choice, like she did when she left, and like she did today, you and Andy and Zac are the ones who have to live with it. That isn't very responsible of her."

Kevin, who had curled into a ball with his knees drawn up to his chest and his chin resting on top of them, was listening intently, a faraway look in his eyes. This was the first time anyone had told him anything like this, told him that it wasn't his fault. He'd never even considered that his mother's behavior might not be his fault.

"Think about it. How easily can your mother make you do something?" Troy asked.

Kevin thought. "Pretty easy," he quavered.

"And how easily can you make her do something?" Troy asked him.

Kevin looked up. Tears were streaming down his face. "When she's drunk or high or something?"

Troy grimaced. This kid was going to break his heart. "Well, even then. Can you make her do anything you want?"

"No, not really." Kevin murmured, not lifting his head.

"So do you think you could have made her stay?"

Kevin drew in a deep breath. "If she loved us, she would have stayed. . ." That statement did him in. He broke down, the most completely alone human being Troy had ever seen.

"Buddy, come here a second." Without even thinking, Troy put his arms around Kevin again, as easily as if he were Zac. This time, Kevin didn't struggle away. It was the one of the first times in a long time that someone had touched him with no intention of hurting him. . . except for Sharpay. Sharpay was different. She would always be different. . .

A lot of time passed, or maybe a little. No one came in to the bathroom, and so Troy let Kevin cry, deciding it was the best thing that he could do right now. The kid was eight years old, and, even if he acted like he was going on twenty, his emotions were those of a little boy.

Finally, Kevin calmed down, his sobs turning into long, shuddering breaths. He closed his eyes and rested against Troy, too tired to move. "I'm sorry. . ."

Troy brushed his hair back from his forehead. "What do you have to be sorry for?"

"For crying. . ." Kevin sounded matter of fact.

"Hey, it's unnatural for eight year olds not to cry," Troy noted. "Every eight year old cries."

"I didn't cry when I was seven," Kevin told him.

"Well, when I was eight I cried every day," Troy lied. "Sometimes all day."

"You did not," Kevin informed him.

"You know that for a fact?" Troy challenged.

Kevin thought. "Yes."

"Okay, so I didn't cry all day," Troy said. "But I did cry sometimes."

"Why did you cry?" Kevin asked him.

Troy thought. "I cried because. . . I cried because, sometimes, when you're a kid, crying's all that you can do."

"Yeah, I'll say," Kevin agreed, sighing. "Troy?"

"Uh huh?"

"Don't tell anyone, okay?" The question hung in the air between them, heavier than either of them imagined.

Troy answered immediately. "No, I won't tell."

Kevin sounded relieved. "Can I trust you on that?"

Troy was bemused. "Kevin, you can always trust me."

"Okay. . ." Kevin nodded. And from that moment on, he decided that if he had to trust anybody, he would trust Troy. Or maybe Sharpay. But he'd trusted her from the beginning . . .

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