Bobby
"That whole chocolate thing is going to backfire on you, dude," Chuck was saying all-knowingly as he and Jamie passed Karen's Café with Logan trailing at a snail's pace a few steps behind them. "Madison is a girl, after all."
"Oh, really? I hadn't noticed," Jamie muttered through gritted teeth. "She totally enjoyed it; Harry Potter movies need good chocolate, end-of-story."
"But it's bad for you," Chuck sing-songed annoyingly. "And one day, it's going to make her fat, and then she'll hate you, just saying."
"Hey, you're the one who made up a song about your collection of Halloween candy," Jamie retorted with an eye roll. He glanced over his shoulder; "Speed up a little there, Wolverine," he urged. "What do you think about girls and chocolate?" He frowned as Logan's gaze jerked up at the question, tense and oddly nervous. "Hey, are you okay, buddy? Get over here." Jamie nodded at the wide gap between himself and Chuck; keeping him at a distance was the only way to deal with the other boy's teasing. The eight-year-old shuffled over quickly and released a sigh when Jamie gripped his shoulders. "Are you nervous about the whole baby check-up thing today?"
"Evans is always nervous about something or other," Chuck teased, taking the lead when Jamie slowed down to keep pace with Logan and scowled at his irritating friend.
"Shut up, Chuck," he snapped, watching Logan anxiously as his cousin's gaze remained fixated on one of the apartment blocks they were walking past. "What are you staring at?" Jamie pressed. He frowned at the cop car parked in front of the building Logan was watching intently. "Earth to Wolverine!"
"That's Bobby's house." Logan looked visibly paler as he sidled closer to Jamie; "I don't like this road, can we just get away from here fast, please?"
"Nice car," Jamie commented appreciatively; "Is his dad a cop or something?"
"Yup," Logan confirmed with a stiff nod. "His dad is a cop...and he hates me, so we need to move in case he hasn't left the house yet."
"Why would he hate you? Who is this kid anyway?" Jamie asked with a puzzled grimace.
"A classmate," Logan muttered quickly. "And I don't know why he hates me," he added with a helpless shrug. "But I normally try to avoid him; he says all sorts of mean stuff when we meet."
"What kind of stuff?" Chuck cut in curiously, falling back slightly to join the cousins.
"The kind of stuff I don't need to hear the day Mom and Dad are meeting their new baby," Logan said shortly. His tiny fists clenched and began to tremble as Jamie glanced sternly at Chuck, silencing any teasing quip his best friend might have been about to say.
"This boy sounds like a total egghead," said Chuck instead, smirking at Jamie's amazed expression as he patted Logan on the back. "I know lousy parenting, okay? You have nothing to worry about, junior."
"You're just full of surprises, Scolnik," said Jamie, gaping at the other boy. He glanced over his shoulder at the mysterious Bobby's apartment and smiled at Logan encouragingly. "We've been through this, buddy; the baby isn't going to change how much your parents love you."
"You promise?" Logan pressed hopefully, his big brown eyes full of insecurity.
Jamie ruffled his hair affectionately, smirking when the smaller boy ducked out of his reach with a grimace. "Of course I promise, you dork," he said gravely. "And if this Bobby kid ever says anything to make you doubt that, we'll kick his ass, simple."
"You said a swear," Logan protested mischievously. "Would you seriously do that?"
"Nobody messes with my dorky little brother and gets away with it," Jamie vowed. "Your dad may be the one obsessed with superheroes, but back when Chuck used to pick on me, my dad wore a cape to school to put a stop to it. Pretty cool, don't you think?"
"Wow, just like Superman!" Logan gasped, while Chuck had the good grace to look slightly ashamed. "Is it true that Mom, Aunt Brooke, and Aunt Haley went around town dressed as superheroes, too?"
"You bet it is," Jamie nodded. "It was just before Lydia was born, too; you didn't want to be the one to piss my mom off in that state. They went around in costume telling bullies to back off; it was kind of awesome."
"The moral of the story is this Bobby kid can't mess with you without getting shown who's boss," Chuck interrupted. "You've got the superhero name; own it, okay? On that note, I'll race you to school, slowpokes!"
"We've got your back, Wolverine," Jamie promised again. "But right now, we actually should hurry, chop-chop!" And with that, the cousins took off after Chuck, ready to face whatever the day would bring in the knowledge that they had each other.
A few hours earlier
Detective Kevin Riley hated working the night shift with a passion. This Sunday had proved no exception; he dared say it was worse than usual. With days to go till Christmas, the infuriating festive jingles dominated the police department's radio all night. After a solid eight hours of that nauseating holiday cheer pounding in his ears, Kevin had spent an hour after his shift ended at 3 a.m. drowning his grumpy mood in alcoholic beverages at the local bar. His intoxicated vision saw the streetlights as mere blurry pinpricks when he swerved mercifully to a halt in front of his apartment, knocking over the neatly stacked parcels of paper set out for recycling as he staggered up the front steps. Swaying slightly, the detective flicked on the light in the entrance hallway. Scowling, he ducked sideways into the kitchen and stared at the leftover pizza on the counter in disgust.
"Welcome home," came a tired voice, and Kevin whipped around to see his wife Melissa standing in the kitchen doorway, bracing her hands on both sides of the frame as if she might keel over. Her shoulder-length brown hair was in tangles, and her eyes could barely stay open, but she offered him a faint smile anyway.
"You call that a welcome?" Kevin growled, motioning jerkily with his thumb over his shoulder at the stone-cold pizza.
"Bobby wanted pizza," she said in a steady voice, but Kevin saw the flicker of dismay in her deep hazel eyes, and the hint of a smile faded at his curt tone.
"Well, I want not to hear those disgusting Christmas tunes all night and then come home to bloody pizza!" Kevin snapped. He took a faltering step towards her, dangerously close to seeing double as his head throbbed. "It looks like only Bobby gets what he wants; you are useless."
His rant guided them down the entrance hallway into the living room, and Kevin threw their glittering Christmas tree a dark look as he flicked on the television. Melissa cowered into one of the armchairs he had practically backed her into and watched him warily. She could smell the alcohol on his breath from all the way across the room, but to say anything about it was asking for trouble when he was in this mood. "What the hell is this?" Kevin snarled suddenly, breaking her petrified reverie. He was brandishing a letter addressed to her, which he had just discovered on the coffee table.
"My application for that opening as a receptionist at Tree Hill High," she said softly. "I told you about it."
"You don't go by Melissa Ryan anymore," he said accusingly, jabbing a finger at the address on the envelope, which had her maiden name neatly printed on the front.
"There are already many teachers by the name of Riley at the school," she explained. "This is just for administrative convenience, okay?"
She raised her hands, looking defeated, but all it did was make Kevin angrier; "Not okay if that's a fancy word for wanting out of this marriage," he said in a dangerously low voice and yanked her unceremoniously to her feet. "Are you planning on leaving me, sweetheart?" he breathed in her face, and Melissa shook her head vigorously, feeling nauseous at the stench of alcohol.
"Kevin, please," she whispered, ignoring the throbbing his merciless grip on her wrists was causing; it could be worse. "You'll wake Bobby; just please calm down."
Her breath was coming in desperately shaky gasps as he abruptly released her wrists, faintly bruised by his tight grip already. "I'll show you calm," he said with a maniacal glint in his eyes as he paced over to the little Christmas tree in the corner, reached to its tip, and lifted the porcelain Christmas angel from the topmost branch. "Merry bloody Christmas," he hissed, throwing the ornament hard at her. The porcelain angel sailed across the room, and Melissa couldn't help but shriek when one of the carefully sculpted wings grazed her face before hitting the ground at her feet and shattering beyond repair. Kevin stomped off to bed as she dropped to her knees and tried to clear away the broken glass. Neither of them even noticed eight-year-old Bobby's wide eyes peeking through the gap in the winding staircase.
Three miserably long hours after the yelling woke him and destroyed any chance of drifting back to sleep, Bobby Ryan quickly closed his eyes when his mother peeked in on him. "Rise and shine, sweetie," she said, crossing over to the bed to nudge him gently. "The joys of Monday morning, right?" she joked, but her smile looked more like a grimace as she self-consciously adjusted the bracelets on her wrists.
"I'm not going," Bobby scowled, sitting up to look closer at her face. "You can stop pretending nothing happened last night. I heard the yelling."
Melissa lowered her gaze and sighed: "Not going to school?" she repeated skeptically. "Bobby, please, I don't have the energy to argue with you."
"Who's arguing?" Bobby shot back, shoving his dark brown hair away from his eyes so he could stare at her more piercingly. "What if he hurts you again?"
His mother bit her lip thoughtfully and let her smooth hand trail across his cheek affectionately; "He won't," she promised. "He just had a rough night; it was all because of the drinking, okay?" She kissed him on the forehead between his big, worried eyes. "I'll be fine as long as you get to school," she insisted. "Please?"
"It's not okay, Mom," he said quietly, leaning forward to hug her carefully. "You make excuses like this every time Dad loses his temper, and he says sorry every time, but it doesn't stop!"
"Come on, you need to eat something before school," Melissa urged, ignoring the disappointment all over her son's face. Bobby shook his head and led the way down the stairs, coming to such an abrupt halt at the bottom that she almost collided with him. "What's wrong, kiddo?" she asked as he stood stiffly rooted to the spot, staring at the battered Christmas tree.
"Where's Aunt Katie's angel?" he asked, pointing at the bare tip of the fake pine with a shaking finger. He turned to face her with a quivering lip and so much pain in his eyes that the fact he was only eight years old hit her with full force. "Mom, where is the angel?" Just minutes ago, Bobby had seemed exasperated that she seemed blind to Kevin's faults, now his words were agitated and desperate.
"I'm sorry, baby." Melissa took his hand gently and tried not to flinch when he glared darkly at her. "Your dad…he broke it last night," she confessed. "You know how he gets."
Her helpless justifications fell on deaf ears as Bobby pulled his hand from her grasp with a frown; "My point exactly," he said, staring past her as Kevin's drunken snores drifted down from the upper floor. "On second thought, I'm not very hungry," he muttered. Then Bobby stomped out to the driveway and didn't say another word to his mother all the way to school.
A / N Presenting my last update of 2013, sorry it took a while, but OC development is more challenging than I thought. Enjoy all! xx