When Jim was almost thirteen, he finally let his anger take over.
(It was about damn time, too.)
He can't stop the anger, now, it's been boiling within him since Sam left, gathering heat for years before that.
He has tried to settle the anger by punching things (and sometimes people) and by riling up Frank, just so he can yell back at the man. All of these are only temporary fixes, though, and the third solution often causes his anger to grow, rather than shrink, since Frank knows all the right buttons to push on Jim, just as Jim knows which buttons to push with Frank. Usually, though, fighting with Frank only makes his situation worse, since Jim never knows when to stop, and often relied on Sam to stop him before he pushed Frank so far that the man finally resorted to violence.
This is the last straw, though. Jim caught Frank walking out to the trash with an armful of pictures, plaques, and medals, items Jim has only ever stolen glimpses of when his Mom is out. They were his Dad's, and Frank has no right to even look at them, let alone throw them out. Frank is trying to defile his father's memory, and Jim will not let that happen. Not while he is still around to have a say in it, anyway.
While Frank gives a self-satisfied smile and grabs a case of beers to sit on the couch with, Jim pulls all of the items out of the trash and brings them quietly to the safety of his room, hiding them in a box, pushed up against the wall under his bed. Then he climbs out his window, for dramatic effect, and when he is back on solid ground makes his way over to the red Corvette in the driveway. Jim is filled with the urge to do something completely reckless and stupid, so long as it will get back at Frank for what he tried to do.
Jim likes cars, normally, and usually has a special appreciation for the well-kept antiques, but seeing this car just makes him even more outraged.
Having spent the past twelve years watching his mom fix the farm equipment and their cars, Jim, of course, knows how to hot-wire one. He also knows, from experience, that this car roars quite loudly to life, which means he really has to move quickly after that, before Frank comes storming out to kill him.
It is all too easy to get the car started, but as the car comes roaring to life, Jim realizes that he has a problem: he isn't quite tall enough to reach the pedals.
Hearing the back door slam open, Jim slides as far forward in his seat as he can, slamming both his feet down on the gas pedal as Frank (as predicted) comes screaming towards him.
Really, the man could have been a little more original.
Or maybe he is too much of an imbecile to think of anything better and less cliché.
Who knows?
As Jim mentally evaluates the relationship between level of intelligence and originality of reactions, Frank proves himself unworthy to even be put in the graph of said relationship by yelling as Jim drove off, "Get back here you little bastard! Turn that car around right now, or I'll call the cops – I swear, I will!"
As he speeds away, Jim does consider turning around – to leave behind an incredibly squished Frank, with tire marks leaving no doubt as to the cause of death. Well, that's how it goes in Jim's head, anyways. He knows the real result would never look as cool as it does in his imagination, and if it doesn't look exactly the same, it really wouldn't be worth the trouble – or the chance that Frank might survive.
Besides, why should he turn around? What could the cops do to him that would be worse than the things Frank got away with?
Jim can't come up with any answers to that question, either. Instead of slowing down or turning around, he takes a sharp right off of their street and on to the main road, zooming past cornfields and barren plots of land, wondering if he would ever be able to get away from it all.
His thoughts are cut short, though, when the car's phone started to ring. Kirk knows who it is straight away, but answers it anyways, hardly paying attention as Frank's voice rings out, "Hey, are you out of your mind? That car's an antique. You think you can get away with this just 'cause your mother's off-planet? You get your ass back home, now! You live in my house, buddy. You live in my house and that's my car. You get one scratch on that car and I'm going to whip your a-"
With no little satisfaction gained from the action, Jim pushes the button to end the call, turning the radio on and blasting it as loud as it will go.
For the hell of it, Jim decides to take the top off, flipping the levers and watching as the roof goes flying behind him. Absently, he wonders if that counts as getting a scratch on the car.
It probably does, but Jim can't bring himself to care. He is pushing eighty five MPH, cruising down an empty road, with the wind blowing through his hair. His problems all feel like they are miles away as he lets out a resounding "Yeah!"
Or maybe, he thinks, noticing the shape coming up, the road isn't so empty after all. When he gets a better look at who it is, Jim called out to his classmate with a wave, noticing the confused expression on the boy's face, "Hey, Johnny!"
Not a minute after he passes Johnny, Kirk hears the telltale sirens, and wonders if Frank had really called, or if the cop was only there because he was speeding. The officer pulls up next to him and orders, "Citizen! Pull over."
Since it is a direct order, from a police officer, no less, Jim decides he will pull over – onto the side road that leads, he knows, to the old quarry. Sure enough, a gate comes up in front of him, but rather than stopping and trying to open it, Jim drives straight through it, following the old dirt road towards the cliff that he knows is fast approaching.
For one brief moment, as he approaches the edge, Jim seriously considers staying in the car and going over the cliff. He wonders what it would feel like, to die, and wonders if he would finally get to meet his dad. But, he realizes, if he did meet the Great George Kirk, what would he ever say to him? How could he look the man in the face, knowing that his Dad had given his life so that Jim could survive, only for Jim to throw it away thirteen years later? No, he can't face his father, yet; he hasn't earned that right.
Crying out as he goes, Jim frantically turns the wheel, trying to turn the car's course away from the edge, to no avail. Moments before the car goes over, Jim flings himself out of the car, feeling, for one fleeting second, as though he is flying, before he falls to the ground, hands struggling to grip something, anything, as he slides towards the edge.
His motions become more frantic as he very nearly falls over the edge, but his hands find purchase in the soil not a second too soon, and he manages to pull himself up onto solid ground once more.
Panting from the effort, he stands before the cop, who continued to chase him and asks, as though he has not just destroyed a car and almost fallen to his death, "Is there a problem, officer?"
The cop does not look impressed (not that robots could convey much expression at all) as it spoke, "Citizen, what is your name?"
Proudly, almost as though his name can save him or protect him, he replies, "My name is James Tiberius Kirk."
The officer is not all that impressed by his declaration, and brings him to the Riverside Police Station, under charges of speeding, trespassing, grand theft auto (so Frank had called the cops on him, after all) and operating a motorized vehicle without a valid driver's license. When they get to the station, there are actual humans there, all of whom are appalled at the idea that the robot brought in a kid. The charges are legitimate, though, so they have to keep him at the station.
To Jim, it's all kinds of exciting to see, first hand, what it is like to be arrested. The officers who book him give him a look he knows all too well, though – the look that says, more or less, 'I know who your dad was. I'm sorry about your life'. Frankly, he's sick of getting that look, but can do nothing about it – unless he wants to make his situation worse. He does give the officers a Look, though, when they began talking as though he is not in the room, saying to each other, "The poor kid," and, "What has he thinking, driving out to the quarry like that?" and, as if it isn't obvious, "He could have gotten himself killed."
"I can hear you, you know," Jim finally says, as they begin to talk about how his parents must have neglected him something awful. "If you've got so many questions, why don't you just ask me, instead of speculating as though I'm not even here?
"Alright, son," the tall, balding officer says, "is there anyone who can come pay your bail?"
"Well," Jim answers, pretending to give the matter thought, "my Mom is off-planet, my older brother is who-the-hell-knows-where, and Frank probably called that robocop in the first place. So, no, unless you know how to get in touch with any of my dead father's relatives, who probably don't even know that I exist."
The officers are clearly not expecting such attitude and cynicism from a not-even-thirteen year old, judging by the surprised looks on their faces. "Well, kid," says the shorter, rounder one, at length, "if no one comes to pick you up, you're gonna have to stay here until the hearing, assuming that whoever's car that was decides to press charges."
Jim sighs. Knowing Frank, the man will press charges, and probably try and get him shipped off to juvie, to boot. Knowing they will ask, Jim supplies, "The car was Frank's. Technically, he's my step-dad, but if you ask him, he'll deny ever meeting me, which is the only thing we have in common. He'll probably want to press charges, so you should probably let him know that you've apprehended me, and all." He even gives them the number for his house, and watches while the tall one calls up Frank and tells him about Jim's situation.
Even from six feet away, Kirk can see the anger in Frank's face when he hears of the fate of his beloved car, and knows, even before the officer asks, that he should get comfortable, since there is no chance of him being picked up any time soon.
Once the officers reach the same conclusion, they close the transmission with Frank, and both the tall man and short man look at the terminal with no little disgust on their faces, clearly wondering how any man could leave a child under his care in jail willingly.
After a while, the officers pull out a chess set, and begin to play. Jim watches, enthralled, as the two men play, learning most the game by watching, and asking questions when certain rules remain unclear. After the match is over (the stout officer won, for the record), Jim asks, hesitantly, "May I play?"
Had the officers simply said 'no,' they would have been saved much embarrassment. Although Kirk loses his first few matches, he quickly improves his strategy until he can beat both officers without too much thought.
Naturally, the officers ask the inevitable question, "Why did a kid as smart as you do something as stupid as stealing a car and driving it off of a cliff?"
Before Kirk can answer, a call comes in, stating that Jim will be moved to a juvenile detention center until his hearing, which is scheduled to be in a week, when he will receive a formal punishment for his crimes.
In the squad car en route to the center, Jim numbly realizes that, not only is his Mom coming home just in time to see his hearing, but the hearing is going to be held on his Birthday.