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The Youth Center was crowded and noisy. Scott had been there three days and already he liked it better than the Mercer's. He had even streaked his hair with electric green, since his roommate had accidentally made too much dye.
Evelyn, Jack, and Angel had stopped by to visit and ask him to come home. Legally, she was his mother. Social Services could send him back with her. But he refused, insisting he wanted to go up to the detention center that had been previously discussed. Evelyn had not protected him. She would never care about him. He had had to sit with them for a few minutes. The counselors insisted he "give it a try". He hadn't said a word to them.
Now, Scott was sitting in the common room, playing checkers with a retarded girl named Suki. He didn't pay much attention to what she was saying, and he was cheating. He figured that the social workers would give him a few more days before sending him back to Evelyn's. Maybe they would even send him back tonight. If they did, he had worked out that he would steal Evelyn's purse and use the money to get to a bus station. Where he would go from there, he wasn't sure.
At the very least, nobody had questioned the scratches on his arm. It was a small consolation. He wondered if they would let him stay longer if he told the doctors they were self-inflicted, but then guessed they had too much to worry about. The only thing he really wanted to do was see his father. Evelyn would never let him visit now, and he didn't know where the jail was.
"Scott?" Almost perfectly on target, a young worker named Jenny was calling to him. Jenny was nice. She had long blond hair and cerulean eyes. Scott thought that, if he ever had a mother, he would want her to be like Jenny. "Honey, I know this is difficult for you, but Evelyn Mercer is here to take you home."
"That's okay Jenny." Scott responded. He tugged his sweatshirt on over his head. "I have to live somewhere, right?" She gave him a puzzled smile, and he followed her to the front hallway.
Evelyn and Jerry were waiting for him. Jerry was playing with his keys. Evelyn looked a bit like she had been crying, and Scott felt slightly guilty he had caused so much trouble. He still said nothing as they walked outside and got in the car.
"Scott, please." Evelyn sat next to him in the backseat. "Tell me what's bothering you. I want to help." Scott didn't respond. Jerry snorted irately. "Jerry, stop it." Evelyn warned. "Scott, please look at me." Scott swiveled his eyes in her direction. "There's someone at home we want you to talk to. It might help you."
"I doubt it." Scott said scornfully, propping his chin in his hand and turning away. He hated Evelyn. He hated fucking Detroit. All he wanted was to find his dad and live with him. He wondered what they would be doing, right now, if his father had never been taken away. Probably, Scott would be watching him drink in some smoky bar and playing darts with his drunken friends. A Hell of a lot better than sitting in a car with Evelyn and Jerry.
They pulled into the driveway a bit later and Jerry turned off the engine. He bit his knuckle and hesitated. "Okay kid I'm only saying this once." He turned to face Scott. "No one, not even my brothers, is allowed to make my mother cry. Do you understand?" Scott didn't bother to reply. Jerry was continuing anyway. Evelyn looked ready to burst into tears all over again. "I don't care how screwed up you are. I don't even care you're fourteen. If you make her cry again, I will personally kick your scrawny ass. You got me, Scott?"
"Jerry, please." Evelyn insisted. Scott opened the door and crunched into the snow. He still wasn't wearing a coat, but by now, the shock had worn off. His small bag of clothes had been abandoned at the shelter, which Evelyn may or may not have noticed. He rubbed his arms and followed Jerry and Evelyn into the house.
Mr. Sundry was sitting on the couch.
Jack sat beside him, Bobby nursed a beer at the kitchen table, and Angel leaned noncommittally against the doorway. In the kitchen, saying something to Bobby, was Brandon. Scott focused briefly on him. But Mr. Sundry easily occupied most of his attention.
"What the fuck." Scott grumbled. He turned to look at Evelyn, who guided him to the couch and sat him down.
"Scott, Mr. Sundry is here to talk to you a bit about what's going on." Evelyn said. She patted Scott's arm and sat in an armchair. Mr. Sundry cleared his throat.
"Scott, I want to start by talking about your problems now." He said. "Are you upset about your father?" Scott looked down, drawing his knees up to his chest. "How about the adoption? Is that the issue?" He traced a flower drawn on the toe of his sneaker. "Scott, nobody can help you but yourself." Evelyn crossed her legs. Mr. Sundry leaned over and patted Scott's knee comfortingly. "Would it help if you and I talked in private for a bit?" Evelyn started to stand.
"No!" Scott shouted. He scrambled to his feet, furious. Mr. Sundry looked shocked and upset. No one noticed his expression, though. All eyes were focused on Scott. He pinched his lip and clenched his fist. "I- I hate you." He whispered.
"Scott!" Evelyn cried. "Stop, right now!"
Scott grabbed a frame and threw it. "God damn it." He seethed, winding a lock of hair around his index finger. Fuck it. He didn't even care that Evelyn wouldn't believe a single word. It wasn't like he was fucking staying. "I hate you. I hate what you did to me and what you made me." He said coldly. "If you own my future, then I don't want one." Mr. Sundry stood slowly, clearing his throat. Scott pointed a shaky finger at him. "Go to Hell." He whispered, turning and walking through the front door.
The porch was freezing. Scott rubbed his eyes and sat on one of the chairs. He tucked his legs beneath him and wrapped his arms around himself. The front door slammed open and Bobby threw Mr. Sundry hard into the front lawn.
"You stay right there!" He yelled. "I'm not fucking finished with you." He turned to Scott. "I just wanted to say welcome back." He was weaving, and his eyes looked red in the dull light. He jumped off the porch and kicked Mr. Sundry hard in the stomach. The guidance counselor gasped and folded in on himself. Scott leaned back and watched Bobby kick him again and again. He dropped to his knees, straddling Mr. Sundry and lifting him up by the collar. "You son of a bitch!" Bobby yelled. Angel and Jerry were standing on the porch, arms crossed. "What the fuck did you do to my brother, you sick fucking freak?"
Mr. Sundry was coughing up blood. Evelyn, sobbing now, stood on the first step and watched Bobby with her hands pressed tightly to her lips. Her shoulders shook. Angel stepped forward and put his arms around her shoulders.
"Scott?" Jack stood with his hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. "Why didn't you say anything? I'm only trying to help you." Scott shrugged.
"I'm a liar and a brat and no one would have believed me." He replied. Jack pulled him up and shepherded Scott toward the house.
"I would have believed you, kiddo." He swore. Scott looked over his shoulder to see Mr. Sundry staggering to his feet and wiping his mouth. Then Jack pushed him into the doorway and sat him down on the couch.
Brandon was sitting on the edge of it, but he sat down next to Scott and Jack sat on the other side. The voices outside reached a fever pitch. He could definitely hear Bobby, the loudest. He also heard Jerry and Angel. Someone who may have been Mr. Sundry, loudly protesting the accusations. This was funny, because Scott didn't remember accusing anybody. The front door banged open and Bobby dragged Mr. Sundry in, one arm locked behind his back, his fingers secured around the back of his neck. Scott stared up at him.
His nose was bleeding freely and he was sporting a black eye. His lip was split. There were bruises on his exposed skin. His clothes were wet and dirty, soaked in blood and mud. Bobby kicked the back of his shins, so he was forced to his knees.
"What do you have to say to my little brother, you god damn pervert?" Mr. Sundry opened his mouth and made a gurgling sound. Scott couldn't help it. He giggled. Jack rubbed his shoulders.
"Good to hear you laugh." He said.
Bobby was grinding Mr. Sundry's face into the carpet with his boot. "I said what are you going to say to my brother? You're going to school like this tomorrow, and everybody's gonna know what you are." Mr. Sundry made the noise again. It sounded like a cat being drowned. "Scott, you want to take a shot?"
Scott slid off the couch and crouched in front of his tormentor. He forgot about the eyes of his foster family, and Brandon, on him. He leaned down to whisper in Mr. Sundry's ear.
"Kind of ironic, isn't it Mr. Sundry?" He let his lips brush discreetly against the guidance counselor's ear. "I mean, you said no one would believe me. And they all did. But no, that's not the ironic part. The irony is that now, I control your future." He flicked open the pocket knife his father had given him for his ninth birthday, stabbing it roughly into Mr. Sundry's stomach. The teacher slumped against him, breathing shallowly.
"Scott, get him off you." Angel said firmly. Scott put his free hand on Mr. Sundry's shoulder and pushed him off.
"Dead weight." He said in explanation, holding up the knife. Bobby stared at it, and looked at Mr. Sundry.
"Did you kill him?" He asked. Scott shrugged and wiped blade on his pants to clean it.
"I dunno. Maybe." He stood, wavering unsteadily on his feet. Brandon caught his arm.
"Oh, God. Scott." Evelyn moaned. Jerry, staring in shock at Mr. Sundry, lifted her off her seat and brought her towards the kitchen. "Scott, why didn't you say something?"
Brandon and Jack herded Scott over to the stairs. "I did it for my dad." He said to Jack. They led him up the stairs into his and Jack's room. "Now I can see him again."
"I get it." Jack said hastily. "Just go to sleep now." Scott sat on the edge of his bed. He wondered where Evelyn was. Jack was leaving the room, and Brandon sat next to him.
"I know they aren't your brothers." He said quietly, lacing his fingers and looking at his feet. "But Jackie really cares about you. Give them a chance."
It was kind of funny, really. He wasn't attracted to Brandon, so the dream wasn't making things awkward. At the same time, he couldn't stop remembering it. And that was making things awkward.
"You think he's dead?" He asked Brandon. Brandon shrugged slowly. He lifted his finger to fool around with his nose ring. "Do you like my lip ring?" Brandon stared at it.
"Pretty gaudy." He admitted. "But it's cool. Did it hurt?" Scott nodded. "Yeah, so did this." He lifted his shirt to show off a large, snarling tiger tattooed over his heart. "Beauty is pain."
"You got that right." Scott muttered.
He leaned forward and clumsily kissed Brandon.
He seemed surprised, at first. Scott pulled back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Brandon stayed frozen where he was.
"W-what was that about?" He stammered. Scott dipped his head lower and ignored the question. "Um, I'd kinda like to know, since, you know, it involved me as well as you."
"Um, stress?" Scott suggested. "I don't know. Forget about it. I'm going to sleep." He fell back against a pillow and faced the wall. Stress. That was the understatement of the year. He was so stressed it felt like his eyes were tearing themselves out.
"Well, alright. I'll just sit here and- watch you, then." Brandon rubbed his palms together rapidly. He stood and walked out of the room, swearing. God, the Mercers were so fucked. He went downstairs, where Bobby was dragging a half-conscious Mr. Sundry from the house. "What's going on?" He asked Jack, who sat at the base of the stairs.
Jack glanced up at him, eyes watering. "Scott used a pocket knife. It wouldn't have killed him. Bobby's gonna drop him off at the hospital, and we're not gonna say anything as long as he doesn't."
Brandon put an arm around Jack's shoulders and kissed his forehead. "It's gonna be okay, babe. Don't worry."
In the hallway above them, Scott wrapped his arms around himself and retreated into his room.
He was happy for Jack. As happy as possible, considering.
Thanks to all my reviewers. You make me happy inside.