Chapter 3 - A Different Perspective

George could hardly close his eyes that night, knowing the Hunter boy was in his home. So when he heard Shawn shuffling about in the next room, it felt hypocritical to tell the boy he should be sleeping. George heard the shower running, and didn't blame the boy one bit; heard the washing machine running and was almost impressed, as well as sympathetic; heard the television, but on a very low volume, and then he heard shuffling in the fridge and pantry. He recognized the dialogue in the movie—it wasn't exactly a movie he would have recommended, but it wasn't inappropriate.

When the television went quiet, and light footsteps made their way up the stairs, he finally found himself able to relax.

It didn't last. His internal clock woke him, as it always did, at six sharp.

He went downstairs to make coffee and read the paper in the garden, and he took his time before heading back in. He made some breakfast, and he gave the boy until 8:30. It wasn't enough sleep, but if he let him sleep in too late, Shawn would likely spend the summer nocturnal.

The lights were already on in the bedroom, but Shawn was dead asleep, lying on his back under the covers.

George cleared his throat. "Mr. Hunter."

Shawn practically shot out of bed. "Oh no. What time is it?"

Realization dawned on George. "Your plans to sneak out before daybreak didn't exactly go as you'd hoped?"

"Oh no...oh no." He shoved a few items into his backpack. "Uh, sorry, my laundry—"

"It's quite alright. Am I correct in assuming you've made a decision?"

"Uh...look, Mr. Feeny...I can't stay with you. I mean, you're...you're...you're Mr. Feeny, you know?"

George sighed. It was for the best, he knew, but he was not as relieved as he felt he ought to be. "Very well. Pack your things, I'll take you over to the Matthews."

Shawn swallowed. "Uh..."

"Something to say, Mr. Hunter?"

"I forgot to put my clothes in the dryer."

"Why don't you go take care of that, then come into the kitchen for breakfast?"

Shawn nodded, apparently relieved to be able to put off the inevitable for a little longer. "After breakfast is good."

George smiled. He suspected he knew exactly how the day was going to go, and if he played his cards right, he might have his way after all. He jotted a note, dropped it off at the Matthews' back door, and went to start on breakfast.

It wasn't a bad breakfast. Shawn had half expected Feeny to make some disgusting mash or something equally inedible, but they had scrambled eggs and toast with real butter and jelly—well, preserves, whatever that meant.

Shawn ate so fast that Feeny ended up getting up to make more food. By the time they were done eating, it was almost 9:30.

"Uh...Mr. Matthews probably already left for work," Shawn said.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah." He swallowed hard. In some ways, maybe it would've been better to talk to Cory's mom, but she would be just as disappointed and exasperated with him. She felt sorrier for him then Mr. Matthews did, and Shawn didn't know if that was better or worse. Then he remembered something. "Mrs. Matthews is out running errands today. She wanted to leave early."

"I see."

"Uh, Morgan probably went with her. Maybe Cory stayed home…"

"You're not going to sneak over there and escape the due consequences of your actions, Mr. Hunter."

Shawn sighed. It had been worth a try.

"You can come help me with the dishes, and then we can find something to occupy your time until Mrs. Matthews returns."

Shawn took his dishes to the sink and grabbed a clean towel, and he and Feeny worked on the dishes quietly until Shawn asked, "So, what do you do in your free time?"

"Oh, I don't know. I usually enjoy some time in the garden, sometimes I play the piano. I read, I paint, I walk, I listen to music."

It all sounded pretty boring to Shawn. He assumed, anyway. Shawn didn't mind walking if there was somewhere cool to go. And he liked listening to music, but he doubted Feeny would listen to anything good. "Do you even watch TV?"

"Not much. I used to watch the news, but I much prefer to read it. Although I'll occasionally partake in a good movie in the evenings."

Shawn sighed. "I guess I'll go outside with you."

Feeny put away the last of the dishes while Shawn went up to change out of his sleep clothes, and then Shawn came down and followed Feeny out of the house.

It was a different part of the garden than Shawn was used to seeing. The part that was separated from Cory's yard by a fence was a lot smaller; this was more of a small field, complete with rows of plants and flowers but also trees and vines. And Shawn would never have admitted it to Feeny, but it actually looked good. Feeny had obviously put a lot of work into it. It wasn't Shawn's thing, but he could understand why Feeny liked it.

"How long have you been working on this?"

"Oh, I'd say some thirty years."

Shawn blinked, and before he could think twice, he asked, "So your wife worked with you, too?"

"Oh, yes. Lillian loved the garden."

Despite everything, Shawn found himself smiling at that. "What was she like?"

"Quick as a whip. Dare I say, quite a bit more intelligent than myself."

He figured as long as they were talking about this, he might as well ask. "Was she a babe?"

"She was beautiful."

Feeny's tone of voice was one Shawn had never heard him use before. Shawn didn't know what it was like to love someone like that, or for that long, but he knew what it felt like to lose someone. He'd always thought Feeny was the last person alive who could understand him—for the first time, he wondered if maybe Feeny understood more than the Matthews ever could. Shawn shifted his weight. He suddenly felt like if he didn't change the subject, he was going to break down. "Uh. You play the piano?"

"Yes, I do. Do you play, Mr. Hunter?"

"Could never exactly afford lessons."

"Ah." Feeny looked down, clasping his hands. "That's one subject I've never had the honor of teaching."

Shawn looked up at him. He wasn't sure if that was an offer; he might have hoped it was, except he didn't think he could bring himself to accept it.

Feeny glanced back toward the Matthews's house. "How long do you think Mrs. Matthews will take to run her errands?"

"Oh, a few hours, at least." Shawn wasn't exactly in a hurry to get back.

"Until lunchtime?"

"Probably. But then, you know, she'll be putting away groceries, making lunch, cleaning up after lunch, making real estate calls. She'll be busy."

"Best wait until Mr. Matthews gets home?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"What time is that?"

"Uh, I think around six? But, well, then they'll be sitting down to dinner."

Feeny raised his eyebrows. "After dinner, then."

"Maybe after Morgan goes to bed?"

"Won't it be getting dark by then?"

Shawn's insides squirmed. "We could talk to them tomorrow."

"You don't think they'll be worrying about you?"

"Nah, I'm not—I'm not their kid, you know?"

Feeny was quiet for a long moment. Then he looked up at Shawn. "I left Mrs. Matthews a note before she left the house."

Shawn's jaw dropped. "What? That wasn't the deal, man!"

"If I hadn't, I would have been the first person they asked when they noticed you missing. I've seen you climb out of that window on many a night, Mr. Hunter."

"So you just...went behind my back?"

"Much like you're doing to them?"

Shawn winced. That was fair. It felt like a gut punch, but it was fair.

"Mr. Hunter, what do you expect Mr. Matthews to do when he finds out you snuck out and got yourself picked up by the police?"

"I dunno." Shawn shoved his hands in his pockets. "Probably yell at me."

"Am I to understand you're hiding from the Matthews to avoid something I'm sure Jonathan does quite frequently?"

Shawn shook his head, his voice catching. "It's different."

"Explain it to me."

Shawn chewed on his bottom lip. He didn't want to tell Feeny about the way Cory's dad looked at him, like he was debating whether Shawn was good enough to keep hanging out with Cory or if Shawn was too bad an influence. He just fell back on what he'd been saying before: "I'm tired of feeling like a burden on them. They don't want me there. They're just being nice."

"Mr. Hunter, look at me." Feeny looked him right in the eyes. "You would be quite welcome to stay here."

Shawn swallowed. It felt wrong. He should want to stay with his best friend, not with the teacher he didn't even like. But here, he had space and time to process what had happened to Jon, with someone who understood what grieving was like. There was no risk of ruining a great friendship, because he and Feeny didn't have one, at all. And he'd still live next door to Cory...

It wasn't forever. It was just until Jon got out of the hospital. And if Feeny got sick of him and kicked him out, he could always go back to the Matthews.

Shawn didn't want to ask, but he had to. "What would you do about last night?"

"Well, it's a first infraction, from where I stand. Given the circumstances, I think a few hours of hard labor would be more than enough to atone for your crimes."

Shawn could live with that. Jon usually took away privileges-it sucked, especially when Jon got really mad and didn't let him see Cory. "If I stay with you, I get my own room and bathroom, right?"

"I believe that's what I said."

"And you'd take me to visit Jon?"

"Every day, if you wish."

"And I can still spend, like, most of the time with Cory?"

"By all means."

"And you'd teach me how to play piano?"

Feeny's eyes widened. "If you like."

Shawn hoped he wouldn't regret this. "Okay. I can see this working."

"Very well. Let's go inside and discuss rules and expectations, shall we?"

He already regretted it.