Chapter 28
The day of the fight.
.
.
.
-Part 1-
It was a school day just like any other. Kit was just another student who took his seat in just another homeroom class to start the day. The rest of the classes were admittedly awkward due to the large amount of time which had passed since he had last set foot in them, to say that the teachers were all loading him down with makeup work from what he had missed was an understatement. He simply smiled, nodded, agreed, and took the work and filed it in his backpack knowing full well that he had absolutely no intention of ever seeing these teachers again much less returning their assignments. Algebra class was the exception. He had grown to enjoy it ever since when the Pythagorean thorium had been introduced a few weeks ago causing everything to suddenly make sense. He completed the work in there and turned it in just like he always had, but today seemed odd, foolhardy even. He was on the brink of a major life alteration and yet here he was completing algebra homework for no real reason other than his own enjoyment. "Might as well turn it in" he thought to himself as the bell rang. He made his way to the front of the class, slid his work into the tray, and was one of the last to leave the room. He was thinking about everything he had to pack and all he had yet to do within the next eighteen hours. What he was going to tell Molly, if he was even going to tell her anything at all? How was he going to answer her question from this morning? He had about five more minutes to think about it until he met her at the Elementary exit. Sometimes she would wait for him, other times he would wait for her, it was always a roll of the dice on whoever got there first. He was deep in his thoughts when a single familiar sarcastic voice from behind him drew his attention as the halls were starting to clear.
"Hay Cloudkicker! How're ya doin'?"
-END Part 1-
.
.
.
-Part 2-
Kit turned from the two boys sprawled out upon the ground in the school hallway, picked up his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and turned to walk away just as the second Crony returned complete with red stained gauze in his mouth and turned the corner with some of the faculty who had been at their various dismissal duties. There was no hiding the scene or who was to blame for it at first glance. The teachers didn't say a word. One brought her hand to cover her mouth as she took in the carnage while the others stood aghast at the blood and unconscious students as they were digesting what they were seeing.
Kit looked at them, looked at the second Crony, inhaled and exhaled as he shook his head, "Well…shit" he said to himself; he knew what was coming next but he was not one to go down without a fight. The boys behind him were covered in blood and so was the one in front of him while he only had a few stains on his right knee, the legs of his shorts, and some on his hands. He had to escape, he only needed to last just one more night! He couldn't afford to get detained now, not when the beginning of his future was so close and bright he could see and taste it! If only he had put his knife on this morning instead of leaving it in his room, he could've quickly escaped this situation, made to pick up Molly, get back to Higher for Hire, and then get the hell out of Dodge! A cut here, a slice there, and he could've slipped away, but things being as they were his options seemed to be slim to none.
Coach Plemons, a muscular rhino and contestant in the 1936 Houndland Olympics turned middle school general Ed PE teacher approached Kit slowly with his hands raised, palms out and open. "Common Kit, give it up" he demanded, "don't make this harder than it has to be."
Kit said nothing, not at first, and when Coach Plemons made to grab him, Kit backed away with a jump, turned, ditched his backpack in midair, and ran as fast as he could. He sprinted past Michael and his downed crony as fast as his legs would carry him. He ran like he had in the hospital but this time he really did need to break out through to the other side, but not to reach Baloo, no, Baloo was gone, this time he needed to get to Molly on the other side of the school and then put as much distance between him and all these bloody vultures who sought to feed upon his flame! Damn the consequences and damn the mistakes, he had to make his own fate!
Kit didn't get far however. He had made it halfway down the long hall when he felt the large hand of Coach Plemons grasp the back of his green sweater just below the neck and lift him up; he was no match for the former Olympian. But still he punched and kicked for all the good it would do, hitting only air, knocking only wind. His resistance was all in vain, though he had refused to relent, once Coach Plemons had caught him, it was all over. The other teachers surrounded them, each one taking hold of an appendage as necessary. He could not remember what was said, with his adrenaline pumping all he heard was tangled up muffled rumbles as the adults yelled back and forth in an effort to take control of him. He remembered Coach Plemons had wrapped his arm around his arms and chest, and the other teachers did the same down to his waist and feet. When all was said and done, he had been forcibly hauled off to the front office, carried horizontally by three teachers, a fourth one bringing up the rear with his backpack. The rest tended to Michael and his cronies.
-END Part 2-
.
.
.
-Part 3-
The school was still and quiet with all the students gone, more silent than he had ever heard it. It was as if even the air did not dare move against itself in an effort to allow the walls of the classrooms to rest from the daily controlled chaos.
Kit looked out the window to the early evening sky and the clouds floating above the city. He envisioned the freedom of surfing through them while he leaned back in his chair with his arms folded. When the teachers finally released their grasp on him, they had thrown him in this tiny room, shut the door behind him, and locked it tight. He was alone with nothing inside but a square table and two chairs, it reminded him of the cells back at his first orphanage except only cleaner and less drafty. He had heard the sound of sirens outside grow louder and then suddenly be cut off at about the same time red flashing lights started shining in through the window and reflecting off the wall. "Must be Michael's ambulance" he deduced to himself. "Serves him right." Kit delighted in the lifelong injuries he was certain he had inflicted upon Michael and his buddies. "I hope that pervert has to drink the rest of his meals through a straw!" As his heart beat the heat of his rage through his being, any guilt he may have had quickly evolved into justified righteous wrath.
He had to have been alone and ignored in that room for over an hour without anyone intruding to talk to or even peep in the hallway door window at him. He didn't know what to expect next. He figured that a principal or counselor would step in and speak with him, maybe he would be written up, given suspension, or expulsion, none of which he cared anything about. He would take the loss and move on; it was his last day of school anyways so mostly anything they could sentence him to would ultimately amount to nothing more than inconsequential bureaucracy with irrelevant repercussions. On the other hand, if the cops became involved and they came to arrest him, that could spell problems for everything he had planned, but it overall wasn't the end of the world. In the grand scheme of things, he wasn't even concerned with that in the slightest. He figured he had more than enough money to make bail, pay the fines, or at least pay for a lawyer to get him off the hook; he had been attacked and defended himself three to one after all. He sat and considered what tomorrow may bring. Eventually though, the sound of the door handle turning over filled the room, disturbing the silent stillness and interrupting his mind's wanderings.
In walked Ms. Cunningham, the door closing behind her. Her hair was styled like it always was, but her face looked as exhausted as it did apathetic. She casually made her way to the side of the table opposite Kit, pulled out the only other available chair, sat, folded her arms, crossed her legs, leaned back, and just looked at him, past him, and through him. He didn't know how to feel or what to think; surly last night's conversation had made things abundantly clear to the both of them. Was he supposed to do or say something? Or wait for her? Was she expecting him to beg her to save him from some trivial juvenile punitive actions? There was no way he could even begin to guess at what she was doing though he did know this, there was no way he was going to grovel before her.
After a minute of her overbearing presence and that disgusting frown on her face staring him down, his patience gave way to his curiosity. "Why are you here?" he asked, squinting at her as he did.
"They called me" she shot back in a flash. "Either I sign a bunch of papers and take you home, or the cops are going to take you to jail."
Kit turned around to gaze upon the now unlocked door considering his options and adapting his plans in light of this new information before returning his attention back to her; avoiding confinement was now his primary objective. "I guess I can't leave now, can I? Leave Higher for Hire, I mean."
Ms. Cunningham shook her head clearly unconcerned, "Not unless you'd rather end up behind bars."
There was a pause between them and once again the awkward silence reigned supreme, only the ticking seconds of the clock on the wall filled their ears as they sat staring at each other wondering what the other was thinking.
"How bad is it?" Kit asked his voice monotone and full of resignation.
"Really?!" Ms. Cunningham responded; her voice raised with genuine surprise. "I just told you that I am the only reason you're not in handcuffs right now! That should clue you in!" Ms. Cunningham shook her head with a sigh, looked away, and blinked. She was starting to question why she even took time out of her busy day to show up to deal with this, to deal with Him.
"No, I get that. I meant…" Kit paused as if he was nervous or embarrassed to continue speaking. She saw it displayed on him, even if just for an instant before he returned to his new normal stoic self. "…with you."
Was this a hint of remorse or a drop of humility she was detecting in him? Was he worried about what she thought about him? She wasn't sure, she wasn't convinced. She looked upon her son and the dark road he was speeding down and felt her own mind and heart assault her. She should have just hung up the phone without paying him a second thought. She should have cast him off just like he had done to her. She should have just shown up for Molly and left him there for the school and the law to deal with him; allowing his exodus from her life to reach its completion. She sat in her chair enduring her burning meditation, contemplating all the things she could have done, allowing her dark broodings to enter her to briefly make an attempt to usurp the love she still had for the boy in front of her, and then pass through and out of her as they retreated back from whence they came.
He hadn't lied to her yet, she had to give him that, but he was starting to keep secrets, he was getting into lots of trouble, his blatant disrespect toward her when he was off the clock was majorly problematic. He required discipline, correction, but she wasn't sure she was ready to subject him to 'tough love' just yet, though he admittedly was the tiniest straw away from breaking the proverbial camel's back. Either way, no matter how the next few minutes went, she would play along. If he begged for forgiveness, she would give it one last time. And if he did not, certainly by now the officers were just outside the room in the front office. She looked upon her son and weighed her options. This morning she had been convinced that she had lost him, and now, suddenly, he needed her, all the cards were back in her hand, she needed only to decide. She could be rid of him. He would be locked up for a good long while with no one to blame but himself. Or she could stop it. She could relent and extend her mercy and love to him once more, but was it worth it? Would he turn over a new leaf, or would he just take her generous leniency for granted and continue down his current path with reckless impunity? His pride, his ego, she had seen them both grow substantially and rapidly since Baloo had ended up in the hospital, but what she didn't see was his growing hunger for power and his desire to make real the destiny that the future had promised him. Still, even given her ignorance on the matter, she was not so naive so as to believe that he was making a genuine appeal for clemency. Or was it she who was seeing what she only expected to see? Nonetheless, the curiosity of her heart would not permit the dismissal of wondering: Was the good boy whom she used to know still in there? Or had the rot in his heart, mind, and soul taken so large a root so as to be irreversible? "I haven't decided yet" she answered truthfully, the sternness clear in her voice.
Kit nodded and grimaced, "You're not gonna yell at me?" he uttered softly, the air emotionally still between his words.
Ms. Cunningham couldn't figure out what angle Kit was coming at. His words spoke remorse, but his tone and body language seemed to dismiss her like she was nothing, as useless as an itty-bitty grain of sand. She decided to press him and see where all this was going, she had to know, was he still in there? "No, I'm just gonna let the cops have you, they can do what they will. I've tried my best, but you won't listen, and I am at the end of my rope. You want me to be done with you? You got your wish. The only reason I'm here is because they called me because I have custody of you." She paused a moment before looking him straight in the eyes, uncrossing her legs, leaning forward, placing her hands on the table, and continuing. "You're going to jail Kit, maybe that'll straighten you out."
Kit gave no reaction to Ms. Cunningham's words beyond that of downcast eyes. She remained seated for a moment but when his response came too slow, she stood as if to go, and it was at that moment Kit decided to reveal the heart of the matter. "He said he was gonna rape Molly. Him and his cronies, all three of them, one after the other."
"Do what?!" Ms. Cunningham sat back down in her chair and looked at Kit wide-eyed and serious with more attention than she had ever paid him before, her ears open like he had just spoken divine gospel. As a two-time rape victim himself she knew that Kit wouldn't joke about this. That in combination with the fact that he had never lied to her gave her reason for great concern.
"And I believed him. He said they were going to visit her after they had finished with me, so I let'em have it; I let them have it all. I just thought you should know that before you bring her back here on Monday." Kit then looked up at Ms. Cunningham, the look of betrayal and hellfire raging in his eyes, "The cops can take me, I don't care! Prison will be easy compared to the Iron Vulture! But no one is going to hurt Molly as long as I can help it! You may not care about her, but I ALWAYS will!" Kit then turned from her and bowed his head as if accepting his new fate, "Now go away and leave me alone."
Ms. Cunningham sat speechless as she worked to wrap her mind around these new variables; this changed EVERYTHING! Yes, she was wounded slightly at Kit's remark about her "not caring" about her own daughter, but that cheap shot was easily dismissible by the fact that Kit not only truly cared for and loved her daughter, but the fact that he backed those words and feelings up with actions to protect her by taking not only one or two, but three boys who were all bigger than he was to task and defeated them all, not just now, but for good! And the fact that he was willing to sacrifice his freedom to go to prison all in the name of protecting her honor and her person was worth more to Ms. Cunningham than all the gold in Shere Khan's bank vaults.
"Kit, I need to know and I need to know now" she said, abrupt and to the point gaining the boy's attention as well as confusing him slightly, "Did you throw the first punch?"
Kit raised one of his eyebrows, "No. And why do you care? I'm going to jail, remember?!" Kit snarkyly answered.
"Kit, if you honestly think I'm going to let you end up in jail or even tolerate the school writing you up for defending yourself against three thugs bigger than you, of which all of whom said they were going to harm Molly, let alone rape her, then you obviously haven't learned a single thing about the job of a parent."
Kit couldn't believe what was happening. For the past hour he was expecting for his life to more or less become a living hell behind bars for the next few years or at least become a mess tied up in court that would drain all his hard-earned money, and all of a sudden, just like that he was facing exoneration. For the first time in many weeks, he felt joyful, light, like he could breathe easier, and things started to move faster but clearer.
"Now get up" Ms. Cunningham continued, her disposition now determined as opposed to apathetic, angry as opposed to resigned, "You've done a lot of things as of late to piss me off, but today you just did the one thing to make up for all of it!"
Kit was having trouble processing everything, it was all moving so head-spinningly fast that Kit, who normally was quick and on point, felt as though he couldn't keep up.
"Common Kit, we're going to the front office, we're going to pick up Molly, and if I can help it, we're getting this whole thing resolved before dinner! Oh, and if what I'm about to do doesn't prove to you that I want my new son around, nothing will! Anyone who messes with my kids better prepare for the fight of their life!"
Ms. Cunningham opened the door with such ferocity that Kit could have sworn it was about to fly off the hinges. She walked through and he could hear the voices of the teachers from down the hall along with the sound of Ms. Cunningham's heavy breathing as she attempted to collect herself.
-END Part 3-
.
.
.
-Part 4-
"I understand, and I will convey this to law enforcement. Rest Assured that the school will take all due measures to insure all proper disciplinary actions are administered to those responsible and will cooperate fully with any and all legal proceedings and litigation and….hello?...Mam, are you there? Hello?!"
Mr. Pomeroy, the school principal, tapped the plungers of the phone until a busy signal issued forth from the receiver to assault his eardrum followed by his slamming the handset down on the cradle to hang it up, standing, and barging out from his office; if there was one thing he hated more than lazy students and uninvolved parents, it was the disrespect of being hung up on mid-conversation. He made his way into the main front office of the school where Coach Plemons, the front office staff, the teachers who had responded to the fight scene, and two officers of the Cape Suzette Police Department were waiting, the presence of the officers coming as a clear surprise to Mr. Pomeroy who had not expected such a quick response to the school.
"What I can't figure out is how such a small boy was able to take on all three of them at once without suffering so much as a scratch! I've been teaching for seventeen years and broken up my fair share of schoolyard scuffles but never have I seen anything like this" one of the teachers stated in conclusion to their small talk conversation before turning her attention to her supervisor.
"So, what's the verdict?" one of the other teachers asked inquisitively.
"About what you would expect" he said as he folded his arms. "The parents are furious, threatening to get a lawyer to sue the school, and want the kids who did this to be taken in."
"Kids?" Coach Plemons probed. "You did tell them that this was all done by a single student, right?"
Mr. Pomeroy threw his hands in the air, "OF COURSE I TOLD THEM! Though that only made matters worse! Now they don't only want Kit taken to jail, they want him UNDER the jail!"
"Excuse me" one of the officers interjected, "though we need to hear it from them before we can file anything official downtown, can you confirm the parents said that they wish to press charges?"
"Would it matter?" one of the front office staff asked, their hands clasped while leaning back in their chair.
"Yes, it actually makes a big difference!" said the other officer. "We already know that the school is forwarding this to the school district in preparation for possibly pressing charges in general per your standard policies; the severity of this incident is already beyond what could be handled in-house by the school principal alone; had it not, we wouldn't have been called. But if the parents of the other children all decided to not press charges, then the parent of the child in question, Kit, I believe you all said his name was, could sign for his release to them. They would then maintain custody and legal responsibility of the child should another incident take place and this matter could then be resolved within the school district alone instead of referring the matter to us and getting courts involved. This stack of papers here seems to indicate that you were all attempting to pursue just such an avenue of legal recourse." Mr. Pomeroy inhaled and opened his mouth to speak but was cut off as the officer continued. "If however, the parents of even just one of the assaulted boys decided to press charges then those papers become null and void, law enforcement will be forced to get involved, and no matter what you or Kit's parents say, we will be forced to take custody of the child, place him under arrest, and forward the matter to the juvenile court system."
The silence persisted for a moment as Mr. Pomeroy wanted to ensure that he would not be cut off again and once he was sure that the officer was finished, he spoke. "Well things being as they are, I just got off the phone with Michael's parents and they have clearly expressed their wanton desire to press charges to the fullest extent allowable by the law. I can't say I fully agree with their sentiment, in my opinion Michael finally got what he had coming to him. Those people have given that boy everything but discipline since he entered kindergarten while Kit, I am sure probably does not even know where my office is and yet, here we are, the wrong student about to be escorted out of here in handcuffs to have his life permanently ruined" Mr. Pomeroy fell into one of the office chairs and shook his head, fretting at the state of things.
The officers took out their notepads and forms and started their paperwork as the educators continued to speak amongst themselves. "Now, what was this boy's name? I heard you say Kit, but what was his last name? How old is he?"
"His legal adoptive name is much longer" Coach Plemons said, "but all his paperwork here just lists him as Kit Cloudkicker, and he is twelve."
"Wait, you mean-" the officers looked at each other for a moment in shock, each one knowing exactly what the other was thinking before returning their gaze to the school teachers, "does he wear a green sweater by chance?"
"Almost every day" Coach Plemons said, the teachers and principal looking around the room at each other in a curious bewilderment before returning their attention to the officers. "H-How did you know that?"
"We shouldn't be telling you this, but seeing as he is getting arrested, it's all going to come out in the press now anyways once it hits the court system." The taller officer placed his pen down on his notepad and removed his glasses before continuing. "Everyone on the force knows, or at least has heard of the infamous Kit Cloudkicker; it's not every day a preteen sky-pirate enters a police station."
"Sky-pirate?!" one of the other teachers blurted out in shock.
"You're kidding…" mumbled another monotonously.
The taller officer merely nodded once in response and then continued. "Before getting adopted and enrolling here, he was the protégé to and was forced to serve under Don Karnage and was actually instrumental in not only putting him behind bars but foiling his assault on Cape Suzette about a half a year back. And as for the sweater, Don Karnage used to brutally beat him. He wears the sweater to hide the scars on his back."
The shorter officer then turned to the teacher closest to the door, "He was taught how to fight and kill in between planning pirate raids and being abused aboard the Iron Vulture. That should tell you how such a small boy was able to take on three at once and win. I'm even willing to bet he hardly even broke a sweat in that fight too."
"Hold on!" one of the front office administrators blurted out. "Did you say he planned pirate raids?!"
"Yes, I did" the shorter officer answered seriously. "He may not look it or act like it, what with being twelve and all, but that kid is super smart, more so than you or I will ever be, and from what I've heard he is also indirectly responsible for the deaths and displacement of thousands, not to mention all of the property stolen and damaged."
Upon receiving this revelation, Mr. Pomeroy became unglued. "You mean to tell me that I've had a high-profile criminal attending my school all this time, placing all of the other students in life threatening danger and that you knew about it?!" Mr. Pomeroy accused, pointing to the officers in the office, the rancor of a custodian of children clearly illustrated upon him. "How come I wasn't notified!?"
"Because he's not a criminal and because none of it was his fault" the taller officer answered.
Just then the heated discussion on the matter came to a grinding halt when the officers and all the educators heard a door from down the hall slam into the wall as it was opened and turned to look at an open doorway and the apparent angry mother headed straight for them.
-END Part 4-
.
.
.
-Part 5-
Ms. Cunningham entered the front office from the hallway that led to the small room where Kit had been held. She was furious yet had calmed herself down so as to handle the situation as civilly as possible, however there was no hiding the fact that her guns were loaded and ready to fire. Kit on the other hand was already partially spent and had entered the room shortly after she did, apprehensively hiding behind his mother as if she were some sort of shield and before anyone else could speak Ms. Cunningham took control just as if she were negotiating a business deal. "I want all charges against my son dropped right now on grounds of self-defense of himself and the defense of my daughter Molly. Further, I want to press charges against the boys who attacked my son for assault and conspiracy to rape my daughter!"
Mr. Pomeroy glared at Ms. Cunningham in awe of her audacious claim and made a mental note of it yet said nothing as the officers took control of the situation.
The taller officer held up his hand with a single finger extended, "Mrs. Cloudkicker-"
"My name is Rebecca Cunningham" she said sternly, maintaining her composure. "My daughter is Molly Cunningham, and this is my son Kit Cloudkicker. He was adopted by Mr. Baloo von Bruinwald and I have guardianship custody over him while his adoptive father is in the hospital."
"My apologies Ms. Cunningham" the taller officer corrected. "With respect, this is not a court and we are not judges. If what you say is true, then all charges pending against Kit will eventually be dropped, until then, I'm sorry to say that the parents of the other children are pressing charges. We will however note your comments in our report." The shorter officer looked at the taller one and the taller one responded with a simple nod.
"Soooo" Kit said worriedly looking back and forth between the officers, school administrators, and up at Ms. Cunningham with the sudden realization of what was about to happen, "does that mean…?"
"Kit Cloudkicker, you are under arrest." The shorter officer said as he produced a set of silver-colored handcuffs and stepped toward a now panicking Kit. "You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." He reached around Ms. Cunningham and grabbed Kit's right hand, pulling him away from her and slapped the cuff on, and placed it behind him and Kit, for all his tough talk earlier, began to shake with the understanding of reality settling in. Ms. Cunningham meanwhile froze as the scene unfolded in front of her. "You have the right to a lawyer and to have him and your parents with you while you are being questioned." He then took ahold of his left arm and did the same, the rapid clicks of the cold handcuffs locking into place. "If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed to you before any questioning if you wish."
"Mom!?" Kit whimpered, his dread and dismay filling the room.
Ms. Cunningham watched her son look upon her with sorrowful eyes beginning to tear, his calling her name snapping her out of her ice. "Get your damn hands off him!" She yelled approaching the shorter officer ready to fight him with everything she had only to be held back by the taller one, one hand on her shoulder the other grabbing around her waist.
"Mam" he stated authoritatively, "I know this is hard to watch, but if you don't stand back, I will be forced to arrest you as well for interfering with police business."
The smaller officer then placed one hand on Kit's cuffed hands and the other upon his shoulder, turned him around, and pushed Kit forward and began to escort him out to the squad car in front of the school. "You may decide at any time to exercise these rights and not answer any questions or make any statements. Do you understand each of these rights I have explained to you?"
"MOM! HELP ME!" Ms. Cunningham and all the school staff heard him yell as he and the shorter officer left the building.
With the taller officer still breathing down her neck as he held her back, Ms. Cunningham calmed down and controlled herself and once he was sure that she would allow the officers to do their job, she was released. "Ms. Rebecca, we are taking him downtown. The same station you brought him to to record his abuse. Do you understand?"
Ms. Cunningham wiped her eye, folded her arms, and bit her lip as she looked at the remaining officer and nodded. "Can I speak to him before you leave? Please?"
The officer sighed. "Normally, no. But things are always different when kids are involved." The officer gathered his paperwork and shot Ms. Cunningham a sharp glance with a gesture of his neck, "Common, make it quick." The officer then left the school building with Ms. Cunningham following directly behind.
"Ms. Cunningham" Mr. Pomeroy announced after her. "I know you're dealing with a lot right now, but I just wanted to say that, if what you said is true and Kit was defending himself, I will do everything I can from the school's side to protect him. Also, I want to remind you that we still have your daughter in the after-school daycare."
Ms. Cunningham nodded while making her way out to the squad car, "I'll pick her up in a few minutes, and thanks."
Mr. Pomeroy watched as she left the building and after she was out of earshot, he promptly returned to the front office, picked up the yellow-slip used to formally write-up Kit, and tore it in half to the dismay of the staff remaining in the room. "I want all academic and disciplinary records new and from years past and a new yellow-slip on my desk for Michael and the other two boys before anyone goes home today. Make them as detailed as possible; I have a feeling we're going to need them. And, if anyone here is interested in helping me get everything organized to keep a good kid out of jail, feel free to call your families and tell them that you'll be working late; dinner's on me."
.
.
.
.
The Taller officer opened the back door of the squad car and stood by while the mother and son spoke, "Stand back and make it quick" he said.
"Kit, I'm so sorry. I'm going to do whatever I can to get you out of this. Do what they tell you but whatever you do, do not answer any questions until I get there, do you understand me?"
Kit looked up at her, his hands behind his back, his stomach heavy as lead, and he nodded to show he understood. Her hair was not as nice as it was when she had walked into the small room he had been locked in earlier. It seemed like it had fallen, gotten heavier just as he felt heavier, a sharp contrast from his elated feeling from minutes before, and she was shaking. Or was he shaking? He felt cold even though it was somewhat warm outside. Just then, he had an idea, the echo of a plan he had made right before Ms. Cunningham had arrived. "Mom" he said surprisingly confident, "Before you come to get me, go home, please. In my room, in my nightstand by my bed, in the drawer is a small orange container. Bring it with you!"
"Okay" she said and without missing a beat, the taller officer shut the door.
"That's all you get, mam. We got to go. You can see your son downtown." And without another word or look, the taller officer opened the front passenger door, got in, and slammed it shut without emotion.
"Kit!" he heard her say, her voice muffled by the engine as the squad car began to pull away, "I love you!"
"I love you too!" he tried to say back, but was sure he was out of range, or not loud enough. He prayed that this was not the last time he would see her so that he could tell her what he said in person. For all the frustration and anger between them over the past months, in a single act of selflessness, it seemed like all the proverbial bad-blood and sin had melted away into nothing. Where once there was a hard and callused soul, only a pure and innocent heart remained and it was trembling not for what was coming, but for what and who he was on the brink of losing. Whereas a day earlier he could not help but look forward to once again being out on his own, now he was afraid of losing the love he had come to be enveloped in. He felt the exact same now as he did when Ms. Cunningham had called the cops on him to report his abuse, except this time he really was going to be locked in a jail cell, no Baloo by his side to protect him, no Ms. Cunningham to hold his hand as he walked up the stairs and though the main hall of the police station. No "child victim room" ruse, no Ms. Gold interview, and no mercy. Just the cold hand of blind justice. He knew he deserved such a thing for other past sins he had committed, but not for this, not for protecting who he loved, not for doing the right thing for once in his life. He looked out the window and savored what could very well be his last sights of the city without bars.
-END CHAPTER 28-