Chapter 7

 

     Chris had been watching all day for an opportunity to hand Todd the note he’d written.  But as was normal for Todd lately, when he and Chris weren’t in a class together, Todd was with Matt Moran.  Todd had even stopped sitting with Chris and the other members of the basketball team during lunch period, to instead sit in an isolated corner of the cafeteria with Matt and his gang.

    

     The school day was set to end in twenty minutes.  Chris was in Mrs. Banner’s English class, seated in the last desk of the fourth row.  Todd was sitting across from him.  Chris’s eyes darted to the heavy-set buxom teacher as she slowly paced the front of the room while reading a passage from Romeo and Juliet.  His eyes traveled to Todd next.  The boy was slumped on his desk, his head buried in his arms.

 

     “Todd,” Chris whispered through clenched teeth. “Todd, wake up.”

 

     When Todd didn’t respond Chris glanced at Mrs. Banner again.  As she turned to walk the length of the room once more, Chris slowly reached out a hand.  He jostled Todd’s elbow.

 

     “Todd. Todd, wake up.”

 

     “Huh? What?”

 

     “Shhh.”

 

     “Come on, Chris, lay off.  I was—“

 

     “Be quiet,” Chris urged in a stage whisper.

 

     Mrs. Banner closed the book and turned.  She took her reading glasses off and pinned Chris with a penetrating stare.

 

     “Mr. DeSoto, is there a reason why you feel the need to disturb my classroom this afternoon?”

 

     “Um. . .no.  No, Mrs. Banner.”

 

     “You don’t like my reading perhaps?  Or maybe Mr. Shakespeare doesn’t meet your approval?”

 

     “No.  I mean yes.  I mean—“

 

     As his fellow students laughed at Chris’s obvious discomfort and red face, Todd dropped his head back to his arms with disinterest.

 

     “Detention in this classroom after school, Christopher.”

 

     “But I have basketball practice after school.”

 

     “You should have thought of that before you decided to cause trouble.”

 

     “But I wasn’t—“

 

     “Yes you were, Mr. DeSoto.  And I shall see you in this room promptly at three forty-five, or you’ll be serving detention for me tomorrow as well.  Understood?”

 

     Chris’s eyes fell to his desk.  He’d never been given a detention before, nor was he accustomed to getting in trouble with a teacher.

 

     “Christopher?  Is that understood?”

 

     “Yes, Mrs. Banner,” Chris mumbled as he stole a glance at his sleeping friend.

 

     When the bell rang to signal the dismissal of school for the day Todd shot for the door.  Chris followed him.  He’d have just enough time to get his books from his locker before returning to Mrs. Banner’s class to serve the detention that would involve Chris sitting in silence and doing homework.   Chris didn’t need to worry about letting Coach Donaldson know why he wasn’t at practice.  Several of his teammates were in Chris’s English class.  He could easily imagine how eager they’d be to let the coach know he was in hot water with Mrs. Banner.

 

     Chris ran to catch up with Todd. 

 

     “Todd, wait!  I wanted to give you—“

 

     Todd turned around but ignored the note Chris held out to him.

 

     “No time, man.  I need to get home to deliver papers.”

 

     “Deliver papers?”

 

     “I have a job after school now.  That’s why I quit the basketball team.”

 

     “But—“

 

     “I gotta go, Chris.  Talk to you later!”

 

     Chris watched as Todd joined up with Matt at one of the school’s doors.  Though their conversation had been brief, Chris had easily observed how red Todd’s eyes were.  He also observed Todd popping a purple capsule into his mouth before he and Matt walked out of the building.

 

     Chris sighed, then headed for his locker.  No matter how much he tried to help Todd, things appeared to only grow worse.

 

 

_____________________

 

    

     That evening Chris treaded down the hallway with light steps.  He risked a glance in John’s bedroom through the half open door as he passed. His mother was seated in the rocking chair with John on her lap.  It was seven-thirty now, and Chris’s father hadn’t called to talk to his family, which meant he was out on a run.  John had been given his bath, and was now reclining, droopy eyed, in his mother’s arms while she read to him.

 

     Jennifer was seated at the kitchen table doing homework.  She looked up as her older brother entered the room.  He laid a paper in front of her.  Chris shot a quick look toward the hallway.  In a voice pitched just above a whisper, he said,  “Jen, I need you to sign Mom’s name to this.”

 

     “What?”

 

     “Sign Mom’s name to that.”

 

     “Why?”

 

     “ ‘Cause you write just like her.”

 

     “But—“

 

     “Jenny, please.  Just do it.”

 

     “But, Chris—“

 

     “Please, Jen, do it,” Chris begged, tossing a nervous glance over his shoulder.

 

     Jennifer took a moment to read the document she was supposed to be forging her mother’s name to.  She looked up with wide eyes.

 

     “You got a detention?”

 

     “Shhh.  Be quiet!”

 

     “Chris, you have to tell Mom about this.  You’re gonna be in even bigger trouble if I sign Mom’s name on it.  And I’ll get in trouble, too.  You’d better just tell her and—“

 

     “Jennifer, please. Please sign it for me.”

 

     “Sign what for you?”

 

     Chris slowly turned at the sound of his mother’s voice.  She was standing behind him with her arms crossed over her chest. 

 

     “No. . .nothing.”

 

     “Jennifer, gather up your books and finish your homework in your bedroom, please.”

 

     “But, Mom—“

 

     Joanne pointed down the hallway. “Now, Jennifer Lynn!”

 

     Though Jennifer didn’t want to miss the humongous trouble Chris was about to get in, she knew better than to argue when her mother was this angry.

 

     The ten year old picked up her books and pencil. Chris wouldn’t meet her eyes as she passed him. 

 

     “And shut your door, please,” came Joanne’s last instruction. 

 

Joanne waited until she heard Jennifer’s door close before turning to Chris.  She picked up the paper that Jenny had left on the table.

 

     “What exactly is this, young man?”

 

     “You can read.”

 

     “Christopher, now is not the time to get smart with me.”

 

     Chris rolled his eyes. “It’s a detention slip.”

 

     “For what?”

 

     “I was talking during Mrs. Banner’s English class.”

 

     “Why?”

 

     “I had. . .I had something to tell Todd.”

 

     “Something that couldn’t wait until after class?”

 

     Chris’s eyes fell to the carpeting.  “Guess not.”

 

     Joanne read over the form that outlined what Chris had told her. He’d created a disturbance in class and had been issued an after-school detention, which he’d served without incident.  Joanne or Roy needed to sign the form acknowledging their awareness of the detention, and Chris was to return it to Mrs. Banner the next day.

 

     “Just what did you have to discuss with Todd that was so important it had to be done during class?”

 

     “Nothing.”

 

     “Nothing?”

 

     “No. . .nothing.  Just. . .nothing, Mom.”

 

     Joanne took a deep breath in order to calm herself.

 

     “All right, young man, here’s the deal.  First of all, getting a detention for anything is not acceptable in this household, and you know that. Second of all, trying to convince your sister to forge my name to this paper was wrong and deceitful.  I can’t believe you’d do such a thing, Chris.”

 

     “I. . .I’m sorry.  I just. . .look, it’s not that big of a deal.  It’s just for talking in class.  I won’t do it again.”

 

     “If it’s not that big of a deal, why did you try to hide it from me?”

     “I don’t know! Because I knew you’d be upset.”

 

     “Of course I’m upset!  You’ve never done anything like this before, Chris.”

 

     “I know, and I’m sorry.  It was a mistake, okay?”

 

     “It was more than a mistake.  It was wrong, Chris.  Everything. . .the detention, hiding it from me, trying to get Jennifer to forge my name, it was all wrong.”  Joanne grabbed a pen from a kitchen drawer.  She quickly signed her name to the detention form, then thrust it at her son.  “You turn that into Mrs. Banner tomorrow and assure her you’ll be discussing this with both your parents.”

 

     Chris sighed.  All hope he had of keeping this from his father was now over.

 

     “And, because of this entire fiasco, you’re grounded through Sunday.  That means you’ll come straight home from school.  No basketball practice, and no basketball game on Friday.”

 

     “But if I don’t play in Friday’s game Coach will bench me next week!”

 

     “Then that’s the price you pay for your actions today.”

 

     “But, Mom—“

 

     “No ‘but, Mom’ with me, young man.  Now go to your room and do your homework.  I don’t want to hear any music, and I want the light out at nine o’clock.”

 

     “But—“

 

     “Christopher Roy DeSoto, I mean it!”

 

     Chris stared at his mother just long enough to make her wonder if he was going to refuse to do as she ordered.  But finally he turned and stomped off to his room.  Joanne winced at the sound of the door slamming.  She waited, but when no cry came from John’s room, she knew the baby had slept through the disturbance.

 

     “He is so lucky he didn’t wake up John,” Joanne said as she began unloading the dishwasher. 

 

     The woman anxiously waited for the phone to ring while she worked.  If there was ever a night she needed to talk to Roy, this was it.

 

 

_____________________

 

    

     Johnny wasn’t trying to eavesdrop as Roy spoke to Joanne on the phone in the station’s kitchen, but it was hard not to overhear his exclaimed, “What!  He got what?  He tried to get Jennifer to do what?”   

 

     It was eight o’clock before Squad 51 had returned to the station from its most recent run that Monday night.  Captain Stanley and the engine crew had eaten supper two hours earlier and were out back, playing basketball beneath the floodlights.  The paramedics had gone on three calls since four o’clock and had missed the evening meal altogether.  Johnny fixed sandwiches for himself and his partner while Roy talked to Joanne.  When Roy didn’t ask to say good night to any of his children before ending his conversation with his wife, Johnny knew something had him very upset.

 

     Roy sat down at the place Johnny had set for him at the table.  He didn’t touch his food, but instead propped his elbows on the table, folded his hands together, and stared off into space.

 

     Two minutes of silence passed before Johnny pointed at Roy’s dinner.

 

     “It’s okay, you know.”

 

     “Huh?” Roy shook himself from his reverie and looked at his partner.  “What?”

 

     “Supper.  It’s okay.  I know I’m not the greatest cook, but it’s kinda hard to screw up a ham sandwich.”

 

     Roy glanced down at the sandwich and potato chips on his plate.

 

     “Oh. Sorry.”  The man took a small bite of his sandwich. “It’s good.  Thanks.”

 

     “Listen, if what I’m about to ask is none of my business, just say so, okay?”

     “Okay.”

 

     “Is everything all right at home?  I mean, I couldn’t help but hear part of your conversation with Joanne, and now you seem pretty upset.”

 

     “I am pretty upset.  And no, everything isn’t all right at home.”

 

     “What’s going on?”

 

     “Chris got a detention in school today for causing a disturbance in his English class.”

 

     “What kind of disturbance?”

 

     “Talking out of turn.”

 

     “That doesn’t sound like something Chris would do.”

 

     “No, it doesn’t. Or at least not something he used to do.  And then to top it off, he tried to hide the detention slip from Joanne, and tried to get Jennifer to forge Joanne’s name on it.”

 

     “Chris?”  Johnny asked with disbelief.

 

     “No John. Of course Chris!  That’s who we’re talking about here, isn’t it?”

 

     “Look, Roy, you don’t have to get ticked off at me because you’re mad at Chris.”

 

     “I’m not ticked off at you!”

 

     “Well, you’re sure acting like it!”

 

     Chet Kelly slowly backed out the door.  He was entering the station to get a drink of water while the other basketball players took a break from the game.  He didn’t wait to hear what else was said between Roy and Johnny, which also meant he didn’t hear the apology Roy gave his partner for blowing off steam at him.

 

     Chet found Marco leaning against the building while Cap had Mike looking at something beneath the hood of his car.  Chet kept an eye on his captain as he talked quietly to his friend.

 

     “There’s big trouble brewing, Marco.”

 

     “What kind of trouble?”

 

     “I just heard Roy tell Johnny that Chris got a detention for yelling at a teacher.”

 

     “You’re kidding!”

 

     “Swear on a stack of Bibles.  Then he tried to hide it from Joanne, and tried to make Jennifer forge Joanne’s name to the slip.”

 

     “Oh man, that is trouble.”

 

     “Yeah, but that’s not all.  Now Roy is pissed as hell and him and Johnny are fighting.”

 

     “Over what?”

 

     “Chris.  Gage was giving his opinion on how Roy should handle things, and Roy just about ripped his head off.  I thought they were gonna have a fistfight right there at the table.”

 

     “Johnny and Roy?”  Marco questioned with disbelief.

 

     “Yep.”

 

     “Then maybe we’d better go in there.”

 

     “No need.  They’ve calmed down now.  I don’t think they’re gonna come to blows, but I bet they’re not on speaking terms.”

 

     Before Chet could pass along any more gossip, Hank threw the basketball to him.

    

“Ready to play another round, Kelly?”

 

     “Sure, Cap.”

    

     By the time the game ended and the weary men trudged into the kitchen for cold soda, Roy was in his bunk reading a book and Johnny was asleep on the couch in front of the dayroom’s TV. 

 

As they walked by Johnny, Chet whispered to Marco, “See, I told you.  Gage and DeSoto are so pissed at each other they can’t even stand to be in the same room together.”

 

Marco gave a solemn nod. He sure hoped for Roy’s sake, and for the sake of Johnny and Roy’s friendship, that Roy got the problems with Chris straightened out.

 

 

Chapter 8

 

     It was a long and difficult week for Chris DeSoto.  On Tuesday, Coach Donaldson lectured the teen regarding his detention when Chris stopped in the man’s office to let him know he wasn’t allowed to attend basketball practice that week. That lecture was severe enough, but it was mild compared to the one Chris received from his father when he arrived home from school on Tuesday afternoon. 

 

     “I’m really disappointed in you, Chris.  This behavior ends now!  Do you understand me?  It won’t be tolerated in my house!”    

 

     It wasn’t often Chris heard his soft-spoken, even-tempered father yell, but he heard just that on Tuesday afternoon.  Chris nodded his head and gave a subdued, “Yes, Dad,” then retreated to his bedroom, where he spent the rest of the evening, except when he was called to the kitchen for supper.

 

     Although Chris was grounded, his mother made him come along when she ran errands on Thursday after he and Jennifer arrived home from school. He assumed this was part of his punishment as well – being forced to go places like the bank and grocery store as though he was a little kid again, and not a teenager perfectly capable of staying home alone for a few hours.             

 

     The last stop for Joanne and her children that afternoon was Station 51.  Hank Stanley was in his office doing paperwork while the rest of the crew sat at the table playing cards.  Hank answered the door when the bell rang that signaled guests had come calling.  He led Roy’s brood through the apparatus bay and into the kitchen.

 

     “Roy, you’ve got visitors!”   

 

     The men stood as Joanne entered the room carrying John on her hip. Jennifer walked beside her mother with a plate of foil-covered chocolate chip cookies.  Chris lagged behind his family and stopped in the doorway. 

 

     Greetings were exchanged and then John was passed to his father.  The toddler exclaimed, “Daee!” while giving Roy a sloppy kiss on the cheek.  He then held his arms out to Johnny.

 

     “Una Onny!”

 

     “There’s my boy,” Johnny said as he took the child and held him high above his head for a long moment.  “How ya’ doin’ today, little pally?”

 

     “Una Onny!” John screeched with delight.

 

     Jennifer made sure she sidled up to Johnny so John didn’t get all his attention.  That move earned her an arm around her shoulder and a kiss on the top of her head.

 

     “Hey, Jenny Bean. How’s my best girl?”

 

     “I’m good, Uncle Johnny.”

 

     Johnny looked at Chris. “Hey, Chris.”

 

     “Hey, Uncle Johnny,” came the quiet reply from the boy who was staring at his shoes.

 

     John was passed from man to man then, before Marco set him on his feet. There hadn’t been a baby amongst the Station 51 A-shift since Mike’s youngest child, Craig, had been born six years earlier.  John was the center of attention as he explored the room.  His baby antics soon had the men laughing, in-between bites of the cookies Joanne had baked earlier that day.

 

     John toddled over to the couch where Henry lay sleeping.  He tugged on the dog’s ears and tail.

 

     “John, be gentle.” Roy admonished.  “Don’t hurt Henry.”

 

     The Bassett Hound opened one eye to see what was disturbing his slumber.  He decided a small boy wasn’t enough to get excited over and went back to sleep.

 

     John laughed and pointed at the dog.  “Heny!”  He turned and looked up, pointing at Hank next.  “Heny!”

 

     Though John’s actions were mere coincidence, a new round of laughter broke out amongst the A-shift.  The men well-remembered their captain not being pleased the day Johnny christened the lazy dog with the moniker of Henry. 

 

     “I better not hear anyone call him Hank,” Cap had said with a firm note to his tone.

 

     The lanky man now stared down at John. Hank planted his hands on his hips.

 

     “What did you call me, young man?”

 

     “Heny.”

 

     John laughed again as Hank Stanley chased him around the dayroom.  His laughter turned to a squeal of delight when the tall man swooped him up into the air.

 

Chris observed the goings-on from his spot in the doorway.  If there was one thing good about a baby brother as lively as John, it was that he drew attention away from you.  While everyone else was watching Captain Stanley playfully roughhouse with the DeSoto toddler, Chris caught Johnny’s eye.  With a flick of his head, he indicated that he wanted Johnny for something.  Johnny was still laughing at John when he approached Chris.  The teenager kept his voice low.

 

“Can I talk to you a minute?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Is there somewhere we can go that’s private?”

 

Johnny glanced over his shoulder.  Everyone in the room, including Joanne and Jennifer, had their backs to him and Chris.

 

“The dorm, I suppose.  Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

 

Johnny led the way to the dorm.  He opened the swinging door that allowed one to enter the big room from the apparatus bay.  He stood back so Chris could walk in front of him.  Johnny pointed to his bunk all the way at the end of the room.

 

“Have a seat, sport.”

 

Chris sat down with Johnny sitting beside him.  Their backs were now to the door that had shut behind the paramedic.

 

“What’s up, kiddo?”

 

“I’ve got. . .well, I’ve got a problem and I don’t know how to solve it.”

 

“What kind of a problem?”

 

“Do you remember my friend Todd?”

 

“The boy I met at your Halloween party?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I remember him.”

 

“Well, I think. . .I. . .see it’s like this, I think. . .”

 

“You think what, Chris?”

 

In a rush of words that indicated Chris had been longing to confess this to some trusted adult, he blurted, “I think Todd might be doing drugs.”

 

Silence lingered in the room a moment, then Johnny nodded. 

 

“I see.  And just what makes you think that?”

 

Chris explained everything that had been happening since school had resumed in early January, from Todd’s new choice of friends, to his falling grades, to his lack of interest in all the activities he used to enjoy so much.

 

“Plus, I saw him. . .I saw him take a pill the other day, Uncle Johnny.”

 

“A pill?”

 

“A purple capsule of some sort.  And he keeps falling asleep in class, and his eyes are always red.  He smells like pot on some days, too.”

 

Johnny knew the look on his face had to be voicing his astonishment.

 

“You know what pot smells like?”

 

“Uncle Johnny, I am thirteen years old.”

 

“I know that, but. . .”

 

“But what?”

“Nothing.  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, as sad as it makes me to say that.”

 

“Why? Didn’t they have pot when you were a kid?”

 

Johnny laughed. “Yeah, pot was around, but I don’t think I ever smelled it until I was out of high school.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really.  First of all, you have to remember that I grew up in a small town, so my exposure to a lot of things was limited.  Secondly, though I’m sure some kids I went to school with might have smoked pot on occasion, its use just wasn’t all that common back them.  Cigarettes and alcohol were easier to get our hands on.”

 

“Did you ever try either one of those?  I mean, before you were eighteen?”

 

“Tried smoking when I was your age.  Made me sicker than a dog.  Not to mention the fact that my dad made me eat a cigarette when he found out the reason I was throwing up behind the barn.”

 

“He made you eat a cigarette?  Yuck.”

 

“Yuck is right. That cured my interest in tobacco, let me tell you.  As far as alcohol went, any desire I had for experimenting in that area left me when a good friend of mine, who was drunk out of his mind, wrapped his car around a tree when we were sixteen.”

 

“Was he okay?”

 

“No, as a matter of fact he wasn’t.  He died at the hospital the next morning.”

 

“Oh.  I’m sorry.”

 

“It was long time ago, Chris.  There’s nothing to be sorry for.  A sixteen-year-old boy did a stupid thing that night. It happened many times before then, and has happened many times since.  Unfortunately, growing up isn’t easy for any of us, and sometimes the choices we make during that process are the wrong ones.”

 

“That’s exactly why I’m worried about Todd.  I’m afraid he might do something that will cause him to get hurt. . .or worse.”

 

“Have you talked to your parents about this?”

 

“I can’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“The principal sent home a letter in January about drug use in the schools.”

 

“I know. Your dad told me about it.”

 

“Well, it says that any parent who knows a kid. . .any kid, who might be using drugs, has to turn that kid in.”

 

“So?”

 

“So if I tell my folks, then they have to talk to the principal about Todd.  I wanna help Todd, Uncle Johnny, I don’t wanna nark on him.”

 

“Unfortunately, sometimes in order to help a friend you do have to nark on him, kiddo.”

 

“I guess, but isn’t there another way?”

 

Johnny thought a moment. He couldn’t blame Chris for his concerns.  It was never easy to be put in the position of having to tell on a friend, even if your intentions are good.

 

“Okay, Chris, I’ve got a couple ideas.”

 

“What?”

 

“First of all you, really need to make an effort to put your mom and dad’s minds at ease regarding your behavior. They’re really concerned about you.”

 

“I know.  And I do feel bad about how I’ve been acting, but I’ve been worried about Todd.  The only reason I got that stupid detention was ‘cause I was trying to wake Todd up.  He had fallen asleep in our English class.”

 

“Well, just do me a favor and do your best by your mom and dad.”

 

“I will. I promise.”

 

“Good. Now second of all, you need to try to get Todd alone so you can talk to him.  Get him away from this Matt Moran character you were telling me about.”

 

“I’ve tried, but I haven’t had much luck.”

 

“Keep trying. Maybe you can get him to come over to your house on a Saturday or. . .hey, do you think Todd might accept an invitation to my place for an afternoon of horseback riding?”

 

Chris’s face broke into a slow smile.  “Yeah. Yeah, I bet he would. He was really interested last fall when I told him you had horses.  I even told him maybe he could come riding with me at your place some time.”

 

“Well now’s the time.”

 

“Then what?”

 

“You need to talk to Todd about what you’ve been observing.  See what he has to say about it.  You need to convince him to confide in an adult he trusts.  A favorite teacher, your basketball coach, someone in Todd’s family.”

 

“He’s got an older brother he talks about a lot. Scott is his name.”

 

“Then maybe Scott is the person Todd should speak with.”

 

“But he goes to college in Indiana.”

 

“That might be a problem I guess, but overall it’s up to Todd to decide who he’s going to confide in.  Maybe. . .well maybe you can get him to talk to me when you guys are at my place.”

 

“I might be able to.”

 

“I’ll be happy to help him in anyway I can, Chris, but don’t get your hopes up.  Unless Todd wants help, there’s not much either one of us can do.”

 

“Then what will happen?”

 

“Then I’ll be the adult who knows what’s going on and I’ll be the one who talks to your principal.  That will leave both you and your folks out of it.”

 

“You’d really do that, Uncle Johnny?”

“If I’m certain Todd is using drugs, then yes, Chris, I’ll really do that. But there’s one more thing you have to do for me.”

 

“What?”

 

“Regardless of whether or not Todd does accept an invitation out to my ranch, you have to tell your parents what’s going on. You can wait until after you talk to Todd, but then your folks have to know.  I can’t keep this a secret from your dad, Chris.  For one thing, he’s too worried about you for me to do that, and for another, I can’t meddle in your life without your parents knowing why.”

 

“They won’t care.  They trust you.”

 

Johnny chuckled.  “That’s true, but this is a pretty big issue, and I have to make sure I’m handling it the way they’d want it handled.”

 

“Okay,” Chris nodded.  “I promise I’ll tell them.  But let me talk to Todd first.  Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll agree to talk to Scott or Coach Donaldson right off the bat.”

 

“Maybe,” Johnny said, though he rather doubted that would happen.  It all depended on how much control Matt Moran, and drugs, had over Todd.

 

The pair fell quiet for a long minute.  Despite that quiet they didn’t hear the swinging door ease open, nor were they aware of Chet Kelly standing half in and half out of the room.

 

“I just wish I could stop this whole drug thing, Uncle Johnny,” Chris said when he spoke again.  “I just wish I was able to stop it now.”

 

Chet watched as Johnny put an arm around Chris’s slumped shoulders.

 

“I know you do, sport, but I’ll help you in whatever I can.”

 

     Chet made a hasty exit as the klaxons went off. He was the only person in the kitchen who had seen Johnny and Chris slip away.  No one paid attention to where Johnny came from as the paramedics were summoned on a call.  By the time the squad was pulling out, Chris was standing next to his mother as she, John, and Jennifer stood in the kitchen doorway, waving goodbye to Roy and Johnny.

 

     Five minutes later Joanne departed with her offspring.  Captain Stanley returned to his office while Mike retrieved a clean rag from the supply closet so he could wipe down the engine.

 

     Chet followed Marco to the kitchen. It was Marco’s night to make supper.  Chet stood at the man’s elbow as Marco began pulling pots and pans from the cabinets.

 

     “Marco, you’re never gonna believe what I heard now.”

 

     “What?”

 

     “Chris is on drugs.”

 

     “Chet, you’re full of it.”

 

     “I am not! I just heard him telling Johnny.  The two of them were sitting on Johnny’s bunk in the dorm.  I’m not kidding you!  Chris really said that.  He said, and I quote, ‘I just wish I could stop this whole drug thing, Uncle Johnny.’  End quote.”

 

     Marco shook his head with despair.  “That’s too bad.  This is just going to kill Roy.”

 

     “I know. Man, I sure wish there was some way I could help.”

 

     “I don’t see how.  If Chris has spoken to Johnny like you said, then Johnny will tell Roy and—“

 

     “Hey, I know what I can do!  I’ll call Gary.”

 

     “Gary?”

 

     “My buddy Gary Fitzgerald.  He’s a paramedic at 99’s. I went through the academy with him. We worked together outta Station   17 the first couple years we were with the department.  He’s got a boy Chris’s age.  Maybe Gary will know what Roy should do.”

 

     “Chet, don’t.”

 

     “Don’t what?”

 

     “Don’t go spreading this around.  This kind of thing is very personal.  I doubt Roy will want anyone to know.”

 

     “Johnny knows.”

 

     “Johnny knows because Chris told him.”

 

     “Yeah, but—“

 

     “Chet, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Marco said as the Irishman picked up the phone.

 

     “You worry too much, Marco. Gary’s a great guy.  Always has sound advice to offer.  Besides, his boy Joel is a really good kid.  So see, that must mean Gary and his wife are doing something right.  Maybe I can get some pointers for Roy.”

 

     “Chet—“

 

     Marco was ignored when the phone at Station 99 was answered by just the man Chet was looking for.

 

     “Gary!  Hi!  Chet here.  Listen, buddy, I need your advice about something, but what I’m about to tell you has to stay between us, okay?”

 

     Marco returned to his dinner preparations while doing his best to be oblivious to the phone conversation going on behind him.  He still thought Chet was making a big mistake by spreading Roy’s personal problems around the department, and the last thing Marco wanted was to have his name involved in a mess Chet created.

 

     I hope you know what you’re doing, amigo, because if you don’t, Roy’s going to use your Irish hide as a hood ornament for the squad.

 

    

    

Chapter 9

 

 

     In an occurrence that took place just a couple of times a year, the Station 51 A-shift had the privilege of enjoying two weekends off-duty in a row.

 

     The weekend proved to be a good one for the DeSoto family, and was absent of teenaged angst. Without being asked to, Chris helped his father with some household jobs on Saturday morning, and then on Saturday afternoon, assisted Roy in giving the Porsche a tune-up.  It was when Joanne brought lemonade and cookies out to her husband and son that Chris stammered through an apology for his behavior that week. He didn’t reveal the complete truth behind his detention at that time.  As he’d told Johnny, Chris didn’t want his parents to speak to Mr. Karrington, the school principal, about Todd, except as a last resort.  If Chris could work this out with Todd. . .well, then possibly he could salvage their friendship, while at the same time not being considered a nark by the other kids.

 

     Roy and Joanne accepted their son’s apology and took Chris at his word when he promised his behavior would improve.  Despite the fact that Chris was still grounded, Roy took his wife and all three of his children to Pizza Hut for supper that evening. 

 

On Sunday morning Chris sat in a pew at the First Congregational Church with his family.  Chris paid little attention to the sermon the minister was preaching. Instead, he made a silent vow to speak with Todd on Monday, and through that, do his best to convince Todd to accept an invitation to John Gage’s ranch.  When Chris glanced up at his father, Roy smiled at him and gave him a wink. That gesture on his dad’s part, made Chris even more determined to get things back on the right track with his parents, and with his best friend.

 

 

__________________________

 

 

     On Monday morning, the Station 51 A-shift gathered together around the coffee pot after roll call. The only member of Hank’s team missing was Johnny.  He was assigned to Station 110 for the next twenty-four hours, where he was doing a six-month evaluation on two paramedics he’d trained. 

 

     Roy’s partner in Johnny’s absence was Neil Kruetzer.  Roy had worked with Neil a couple of times in the past. They got along well, and made a good team.  Roy was thankful for that.  Though twenty-four hours wasn’t that long of a period of time, it seemed more like seventy-two hours if you didn’t like the guy you were paired with. 

 

     Chet filled the coffee mug Roy held out to him, then turned to do the same for Neil.

 

     “So, Roy,” Chet asked, “how was your weekend?”

 

     “Good.”

 

     “Everything okay at home?”

 

     “At home?”

 

     “Yeah.  You know, with the kids and all?”

 

     “Sure.  Why wouldn’t things be okay?”

 

     “Oh. . .I don’t know.  Just asking.  I mean, Chris is a teenager now, and it’s not easy raising a kid his age, I don’t suppose.”

 

     Roy shrugged as he took a sip of coffee.  “There’s a few challenges now and again, but so far the good has outweighed the bad.”

 

     Chet put the coffee pot back on its warmer.  He turned and leaned casually against the countertop.

 

     “Well, I know teenagers have their secrets and all.  You know, stuff they don’t like to tell their folks.”

 

     “I guess.”

 

     “If I was a parent, I’d hate like hell to find out my kid went to someone else with his problems.  You know, like if he didn’t feel he could come to me, so he goes spreading his problems around to another person.”

 

     “I’d hate for that happen, too,” Roy agreed, totally unaware of the disapproving frown Marco was shooting Chet.  “Joanne and I have always emphasized to the kids they can come to us with any problems they’re having, no matter how big those problems might seem. We’ve told them that’s not a guarantee they still won’t get in trouble, but regardless, we want to hear what they have to say and will always listen.”

 

     Neil nodded.  “That’s what my wife and I tell our boy, too.”

 

     “How old is your kid?”  Chet asked.

 

     “Same age as Roy’s Chris.  Thirteen.  Then we have twin girls that are five.”

 

     “So you’ve told your kid. . .what’s his name, by the way?”

 

     “Lance.”

 

     “So you’ve told Lance to come to you or your wife with his problems before going to anyone else?”

 

     “Sure have. With everything kids deal with today in

school. . .drug use, alcohol use, kids pressuring them to do things they’ve been taught not to do by their parents. . .well, a teenager needs to know that Mom and Dad’s door is always open.”

 

     “Good point,” Chet agreed.  He paid no attention to the scowl Marco was giving him, nor did he notice the smiles of amusement Mike and Hank exchanged at the kitchen table over this odd conversation Chet was chairing. “So, Roy, what would you do if one of your kids. . .John for instance, what would you do if John went to. . .let’s say Johnny. . .yeah, let’s say it’s Johnny.  John goes to Johnny for help of some kind before he comes to you.  What would you do about that?”

 

     Roy shook his head while chuckling. “At this point in his life, the only two things John goes to his Uncle Johnny for is a diaper change or a good time.”

 

     “Okay, so maybe that was a bad example.  Let’s say it’s not John who goes to Johnny.  Let’s say it’s Chris, and—-“

 

     Marco stepped around Roy and grabbed Chet by the elbow. 

 

     “Come on, Chet.  We’ve got hose to hang.  Let’s get to work.”

 

     “But I wasn’t done talking.  I—“

 

     “You were done,” Marco confirmed as he pulled his friend out the back door.

 

     The four remaining men shook their heads and smiled.

 

     “I wonder what the heck brought that conversation on,” Hank said.

 

Mike shrugged.  “Beats me.  Maybe Chet watched some PBS program on childrearing over the weekend.”

 

“Or watched Terror In Homeroom 101 for the fiftieth time,” Roy said, “so now he thinks he’s an expert on teenagers.”

 

Hank stood to wash his coffee mug out.  “That sounds about like it.”

 

Wonder over Chet’s choice of coffee conversation ceased as the men dispersed.  Hank went to his office, Mike went to clean the locker room, while Roy and Neil walked to the squad to take inventory of their supplies.

 

__________________________

 

 

Gary Fitzgerald and his partner, Tom Houseman, stood at Rampart’s nurses’ station.  They had just stocked up on supplies.  While Gary signed the requisition form Dixie handed him, Tom poured himself a cup of coffee. Dixie cocked an eyebrow at the normally out-going Gary.  This morning he was quiet, and appeared to be preoccupied.

 

“What with your partner today?” Dixie asked Tom.  “He’s a bit on the quiet side.”

 

Tom grinned.  “Enjoy it while you can, Dix.  It doesn’t happen often.”

 

“So I’ve noticed.”  Dixie looked at Gary. “Is everything okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Gary acknowledged. “Everything’s fine. . .with me that, is.”

 

“What do you mean by that?”

 

“Oh, nothing really.  I got some news the other day that really came as a surprise.  Makes me worry a little bit, too, about my boy, Joel.”

 

“What about Joel?”

 

“Nothing, actually.  But he’ll be fourteen in two weeks. He’s  in the eighth grade now. I just. . .I haven’t worried much about drug use when it comes to Joel.  I mean, my wife and I have talked to him about the dangers of drugs, but he’s a good kid. . .a good student, he likes school, so I. . .well, after what Chet told me, I just hope I’m not fooling myself.”

 

“After what Chet told you?  Chet Kelly?”

 

“Yeah.  From over at 51’s.  You know him?”

 

“Sure do. The Phantom who constantly plagues Johnny Gage.”

 

Gary grinned. “That’s Chet.  We went through the academy together, and then worked out of Station 17 for a few years right after we graduated.”

 

“So what did Chet tell you that’s got you upset about Joel?”

 

“He didn’t tell me anything about Joel.  It was about Roy DeSoto’s son, Chris.”

 

“Chris?”

 

Gary nodded.

 

“What about Chris?”

 

The paramedic looked around. When he saw no one in the waiting area was paying attention to their conversation, and that no other Rampart medical staff members were in the vicinity, he said quietly, “He’s doing drugs.”

 

“He’s what?”

 

“Chet says Chris has a bad drug problem.”

 

Dixie shook her head. “I don’t believe it.  I’ve known Chris since he was five, and I’ve grown very close to Roy and Joanne over the years.  Not for one minute do I believe Chris is doing drugs.”

 

“Chet didn’t believe it either at first, but it all adds up when you look at the evidence.”

 

Dixie frowned with skepticism. “What evidence?”

 

“Roy’s been saying that Chris is moody and has been causing trouble at home and at school.  He’s got a real smart mouth, and he served a detention last week that he lied to Joanne about getting.”

 

“That only proves Chris is a normal thirteen-year-old boy, not that he’s using drugs.”

 

“I know, but there’s more.  Last Thursday Joanne brought the kids to the station to see Roy.  Somehow Chris got Johnny aside and told Johnny he’s got a drug problem.”

 

“Did Johnny tell Chet this?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Johnny actually told Chet this information. It’s not just hearsay?”

 

“No, Dix. It’s not hearsay.  Johnny told Chet.  I think Johnny was wondering what he should do, which is why Chet called me.  He thought I might have some ideas since Joel is in the same grade as Chris.”

 

“Does Roy know?”

 

“Not that I’m aware of.  Or at least he didn’t on Thursday.  Chet said Johnny wasn’t sure whether to tell Roy or not.”

 

The handie talkie Tom was holding beeped. 

 

“Station 99, Station 51, Truck 165, structure fire at 2364 Terrace Boulevard.  2-3-6-4 Terrace Boulevard.  Time out: 9:11.”

 

“They’re playing our song,” Tom said as he set his coffee mug down and gathered up the cardboard box of supplies.  “See you later, Dix.”

 

“Bye, Tom.”

 

“See ya’, Dix,” Gary said as he hurried after his partner.  The paramedic was five steps away from the nurses’ station when he turned around.  “Oh, and don’t tell anyone what I just told you about Chris DeSoto, okay?”

 

“I won’t,” Dixie promised.

 

Upon getting that promise, Gary swiveled and ran for the exit.

 

“What about Chris DeSoto?” A deep voice asked from the Dixie’s left.  The nurse turned to see Kelly Brackett had just stepped off the elevator.

 

Dixie knew if she said, “Nothing,” Kel would respect her answer and not pressure her for further information.  But considering the situation, Dixie thought the doctor might assist her in deciding what to do.  Certainly Roy’s family situation was not their business, but Chris using drugs was a serious matter, and one Roy should be aware of.

 

Dixie chewed on her lower lip a moment before reaching a decision.

 

“Kel, can I talk to you in your office for a few minutes?”

 

“Sure. Is this about Chris?”

 

“Yes.”  Dixie waved Betty over to take her place behind the counter.  “Yes, it is.”

 

When Betty arrived Dixie walked down the hall with Brackett. As soon as they entered the doctor’s office Dixie closed the door. She didn’t want anyone being privy to what she was about to tell the doctor. First of all, she didn’t want news of the Desotos’ plight being spread around Rampart, and second of all, she didn’t want anyone to think she was a gossip, because she wasn’t.  She was simply conveying important information to Doctor Brackett in an attempt to help a friend

 

 

Chapter 10

 

     It was ten-thirty on Monday morning as Roy approached the nurses’ station. He’d driven the squad to Rampart, while Neil had ridden in the ambulance with a victim from the warehouse fire they’d been toned out for. The man had tripped down the stairs and broken his left leg in his haste to leave the burning building.  When Roy didn’t see Neil anywhere, he assumed the man was in a treatment room yet, filling a doctor in on their patient.

 

     “Hey, Dix.”

 

     Dixie looked up from her paperwork, then quickly looked down again.

 

     “Hi, Roy.”

 

     “I’ve got a supply order here for you.”

 

     “All right. Just put it on the counter please.”

 

     Roy did as the woman requested.  He stood there a few seconds, his brow furrowing when Dixie didn’t start a conversation, as was normal for her.

 

     Dixie wouldn’t meet Roy’s eyes when she said, “Is your partner waiting for you?”

 

     “Neil’s in a treatment room I think.”

 

     “Neil?” Dixie’s gaze finally landed on Roy.  “Where’s Johnny?”

 

     “He’s doing an evaluation at 110’s today.”

 

     “Oh. Well...as long as you’re waiting for Neil, Doctor Brackett would like to see you for a few minutes.”

 

     “What about?”

 

     “I...I don’t know.”  Dixie dropped her eyes again as though her paperwork required her full attention. “He just. . .he just wants to see you.”

 

     “All right.  If you see Neil, tell him I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

 

     “Sure.”

 

     Roy turned and headed for Kelly Brackett’s office.  Had this request on Brackett’s part been a few years in the past, Roy would have worried he was in trouble for something.  But he’d gotten to know Doctor Brackett quite well over the past nine years, and no longer got a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach on the rare occasions he was summoned by the man.

 

     As Roy walked down the hall he wondered over Dixie’s odd behavior. He couldn’t quite say what was off about her demeanor, but she certainly wasn’t acting like her normal self. But then, Roy had been encountering people who were acting oddly all morning.  He hadn’t thought too much of it when, at the fire he’d just come from, Gary Fitzgerald from 99’s asked, “How’s Chris, Roy?”  But then a few minutes later Gary’s partner Tom, had patted Roy on the arm as he’d passed and said, “Hang in there, Roy.  It’ll get better.”  What had really been strange though, was when 99’s engineer, Hal Anderson, said, “I hope things go okay for Chris, Roy.”  At the time, Roy had been too busy to ask Hal what he meant.  Roy wished he’d taken the time to do so now, because he found himself wondering how Hal even knew Chris’s name, let alone why he’d make the comment he did.

 

     Thoughts of those odd encounters left Roy as he knocked on Brackett’s office door. When he heard, “Come in,” he entered the tidy room.

 

     Kelly Brackett stood up from behind his desk.  With a wave of his hand, he indicated to a chair across from it.

 

     “Hi, Roy.  Shut the door please and then have a seat.”

 

     “Sure, Doc.” 

 

Roy did as instructed. When he was settled in the chair, Brackett sat back down.

 

“Dixie said you wanted to see me.”

 

“Yes, I do.  I’ll try to keep this brief.  I assume Neil’s waiting for you?”

 

Roy nodded. Brackett knew Johnny was working out of 110’s doing an evaluation since he was the one who had assigned Johnny to the task. Over the past year, Johnny had done almost all in-field paramedic training and evaluations, leading Roy to conclude Doctor Brackett was looking ahead to the day when he would no longer do paramedic training at all, and turn a large portion of the program over to John Gage if Johnny wanted the position.  Roy already knew Johnny’s answer would likely be yes, while he would look to being the captain of his own station.

 

     “First of all, Roy, I want you to know I don’t enjoy giving you this news.”

 

     “What news?”

 

     Brackett took a deep breath.  “I feel it’s my duty as your friend, and your family’s physician, to let you know what I was told today.”

 

     Roy’s mind briefly wandered to his wife and children.  No one had been ill recently, nor had any medical tests run. Joanne’s annual physical wasn’t for two months yet, and all three kids had their physicals back in August. 

 

     “What you were told? What do you mean?”

 

     “Roy. . .Roy, I’m sorry to have to say this, but I was told Chris is using drugs.”

 

Roy shot forward in the chair.  “What?”

 

     “Chris is using drugs.”

 

     “Who told you this?”

 

     “It doesn’t matter who told me.”

 

     “It does when you’re giving me news like this.”

 

     “Allow me to say, the person is very trustworthy.”

 

     “That may be so, but this is my son we’re talking about, and Christopher does not use drugs.”

 

     “Roy, he. . .Chris told Johnny he’s using drugs.”

 

     Roy sank back, his indignation at this news seeping away as what Brackett said began to sink in.  So many feelings washed over Roy at one time, it was difficult for him to sort them out.  Shame over what Brackett must think of him as a father.  Humiliation that a man who had for so long been his mentor, had to tell Roy what he didn’t know – that his son was a drug user.  Embarrassment at the thought that others evidently knew what Roy hadn’t known – the guys from Station 99 and Dixie to name just a few.  And most of all, fury at John Gage for keeping this from him.

 

     Roy was in such a daze he barely heard Brackett’s next words.  There was something about a good clinic here in L.A. where Chris could undergo treatment. Then something along the line of Brackett knowing the doctor who ran the clinic, and that Brackett would make a phone call in order to get Chris enrolled in their program.  As Roy stood to leave, Doctor Brackett placed a slip of paper in his hand with the clinic’s name on it.  Roy put it in the pocket of his shirt.

 

     “Uh. . .thanks, Doctor Brackett.  I’m. . .I’m sorry you had to tell me this.”

 

     “I’m sorry too, Roy.  Are you all right?”  Brackett studied the pale man. “I can pull you off duty.  Send you home.  It might be the best place for you.  You can talk to Joanne and—“

 

     “No.”  Roy shook his head. “No.  Not. . .not now.  I’m okay.  I’ll be all right.”

 

     The doctor gave into Roy’s wishes.  Maybe being at work was the best thing for him. Only Roy could determine that for certain, and Brackett trusted Roy to know if he couldn’t finish out this shift.

 

     “I know it seems very overwhelming at the moment, Roy, but many, many families go through this and come out the better for it.  I’m sure yours will, too.”

 

     Roy tossed the man a wan smile. “Sure.  I. . .sure we will.”

 

     It’s difficult to come ‘out the better’ for something you didn’t even know was going on right in your own home, Roy thought as he exited Brackett’s office.

 

     Dixie glanced up as Roy marched by the nurses’ station, his mouth set in a grim line.

 

     “Neil’s waiting for you in the squad.”

 

     Roy didn’t acknowledge the nurse, but simply kept walking toward the exit at the end of the corridor. He almost ran into Johnny as the man stepped out of a treatment room.

 

     “Hey, pally,” Johnny grinned. “How’s it—“

 

     A sharp finger rammed into the center of Johnny’s chest.

 

     “How could you?”

 

     “How could I what?”

 

     “You know what.  Go to Brackett about Chris.”

 

     “What?”

 

     “Don’t play stupid with me, Johnny.  I know what you did.”

 

     “I didn’t do anything. I haven’t even seen Brackett today.”

 

     “I never said it was today.  I don’t know when it was, but why?  Why did you go to him and not me?  Chris is my son.  You know how I value my privacy, and the privacy of my family.  The last thing I need is for this kind of thing to be spread around about my boy.”

 

     “Roy, just what the hell are you talking ab--?”

 

     The finger was still jabbing Johnny’s chest in time to Roy’s words.

 

“Just stay out of our affairs, Johnny.  Don’t put your nose where it doesn’t belong.  And the next time one of my children confides something in you, you’d damn well better come to me with that information, instead of spreading it around Rampart and the entire goddamn fire department.”

 

     Johnny leaned against the wall, stunned, as Roy stomped away.  He brought a hand up to rub the sore spot on his chest where Roy’s index finger had been poking him.  The man turned when a male voice asked, “Are you ready to go, Johnny?”

 

     John merely nodded at one of the men he was evaluating.  He left the building without talking to Dixie or Kelly Brackett, because no matter how much he wanted to find out what was going on, Roy had made it clear Johnny was to respect the DeSoto family’s privacy, even though John had no idea how he’d violated that privacy to begin with.   

 

          

Chapter 11

 

     Chris DeSoto made good on his vow that Monday morning.  He arrived at school early, hoping to catch Todd before Matt Moran showed up.  Luck was with Chris that day.  He spotted Todd by their lockers as he hurried down the hall.  Todd wouldn’t look at Chris as he approached, which Chris had learned meant Todd’s eyes were likely bloodshot from some drug or another. 

 

     “Hey,” Chris said quietly in the way of greeting.

 

     Todd stole a glance at Chris.  “Hi.”

 

     An uncomfortable silence lingered between the pair as the corridor began to fill with students arriving for the start of the school day. 

 

     “Um. . .hey, do you remember my Uncle Johnny?”

 

     “The guy I met at your Halloween party?  Your dad’s partner?”

 

     “Yeah.”

 

     Todd nodded as he shut his locker door.  “I remember him.”

 

     “Well, I told you he lives on a ranch, right?  That he has horses?”

 

     “Uh huh.”

 

     “Well, he invited me out to ride sometime this week and he said I could bring a friend.  I was wondering if you wanted to come along.”

 

     For the first time in weeks Chris saw a genuine smile on Todd’s face.  

 

     “Me?”

 

     “Yeah. You said you used to ride a lot a few years ago.”

 

     “I did. Scott and I took lessons at a stable until he went away to college.  I quit going then. It wasn’t any fun without him.  But I like to ride.”

 

     “Then come to Uncle Johnny’s with me.  We get out of school at noon on Friday because of that teacher in-service. My dad and Johnny are off-duty on Friday.  I know Uncle Johnny will pick us up here and take us to his place.  I’d have to make sure it’s okay with my folks, but I think I can get it all worked out.”

 

     “Great.  I’ll ask my parents tonight if I can—“

 

     “If you can what?” Matt Moran asked as he approached the pair.

 

     Todd looked up at the bigger boy.  “Go with Chris on Friday afternoon to his uncle’s ranch.”

 

     “Whatta ya’ wanna go to a smelly old ranch for?”

 

     “To ride horses.”

 

     Matt laughed.  “Oh, are the babies gonna ride the ponies?”  Matt gave Todd a light cuff to the head.  “Come on, Fletcher, let’s go outside for a few minutes.  Have a morning pick-me-up.”  Matt sneered at Chris. “You know, the kind of thing babies who ride ponies can’t have.”

 

     For several long seconds Chris thought Todd was going to tell Matt to get lost.  Chris could see the indecision on Todd’s face, and he knew Todd had really wanted to accept his invitation to Johnny’s ranch. But then those few seconds of indecision were over with, and Todd followed Matt to the side exit door.

 

     “See ya’ later, Chris.”

 

     Todd didn’t hear Chris’s heavy sigh, or his quiet, “Yeah, see ya’ later,” as the blond teen gathered his books from his locker, slammed the door with frustration, and headed for his first class.

 

 

__________________________

 

     Roy’s co-workers noticed he was unusually quiet and withdrawn when Squad 51 returned from Rampart.

 

     “You okay, pal?” Hank asked his senior paramedic as Roy headed into the kitchen and Hank headed out of it.

 

     “Fine, Cap.”

 

     “You look a little under the weather.”

 

     “Just a headache.  I’m all right.”

 

     “Well, take a couple aspirin and put your feet up for a few minutes,” Hank instructed. “Kelly’s making lunch.  He says it’ll be ready in about thirty minutes.”

 

     “Sure, Cap.  Thanks.”

 

     Roy crossed to the cabinet in the kitchen where they kept first aid supplies and over-the-counter medications.  Band-aids. Antacid tablets.  A bottle of Excedrin.  Roy uncapped the Excedrin and shook two pills into his right palm.  He put the bottle back, then grabbed a glass and filled it with cold water.  He swallowed the aspirin while draining the glass dry.  He put the glass in the sink, then walked over to the table where he dropped into the first chair he came to.

 

     “Two bad moves there, Roy.”

 

     Roy glanced up at Chet, who was standing next to the stove dicing tomatoes for the chili he was cooking. 

 

     “What?”

 

     “You didn’t wash your glass and Stoker’s on kitchen cleanup today.  You know how pissed he gets if we leave dirty dishes in the sink.  And you’re sitting in Cap’s chair.”

 

     “Don’t waste your time tattling on me, Kelly,” Roy grumbled while he kneaded his temples. “I’ll use the glass again for lunch, and I’ll get out of Cap’s chair before we eat.”

 

     “Geez, what’s got your suspenders on backwards all of a sudden?”

 

     “Nothing.  I’ve got a headache, okay?  Now can I just have a couple minutes of peace and quiet before lunch?”

 

     “Yeah, sure.  No problem, man.  I can be quiet.  I mean, hey, if you’ve got a headache, I under—“

 

     Roy shot the man a cold glare.  “Chet—“

 

     “Uh. . .sorry.  I’ll be quiet.”

 

     True to his word, Chet kept his mouth shut. Roy sat at the table with his face buried in his hands.  He was contemplating asking Cap to call in a replacement for him so he could be home to greet his oldest son when school let out.  Yet, there was no doubt the clinic Doctor Brackett had told Roy about would be expensive.  Expensive meaning Roy needed to be working, rather than taking time off.  He’d likely have to work overtime in the coming months, too, in order to keep Chris enrolled in the clinic’s program. But at the same time, Roy worried over how much he’d be away from his family when Joanne and Chris, and the younger children as well, would need him the most.

 

     Roy sighed.  There were no easy answers, and he wondered how he and Joanne had gotten to this point. They’d always been such attentive parents.  Always involved in their children’s activities, always knew who their children’s friends were, always the type of parents who encouraged their kids to invite their friends over, rather than letting Chris and Jennifer spending all their time in homes where Joanne or Roy didn’t know the parents well.  Roy had spoken to Chris several times since he was ten or eleven about drug use, alcohol use, and the use of tobacco.  They’d talked again in early January when the letter came home from Chris’s school about drug use amongst some of the students.  Roy thought Chris understood the dangers, and the long-term ramifications, of experimenting with drugs.  Chris had always assured his father that was the case, but evidently Roy had been fooled by his son on this issue, just like Chris had fooled him on so many other issues recently.

 

     The quiet was shattered by the ringing telephone.  Chet looked at Roy, but when the phone rang for a fourth time and the man didn’t rise to answer it, Chet wiped his hands on a dishtowel.  He jogged across the kitchen and snatched the instrument up on the seventh ring.

 

     “Station 51. Fireman Kelly speaking.”

 

     Chet listened a moment, then rested the receiver on top of the telephone.

 

     “Roy, phone.”

 

     Roy pushed himself away from the table. He and Chet crossed paths as Roy headed for the phone and Chet returned to the stove.

 

     “Hello?”

 

     The conversation was over before it started. As soon as Roy heard the voice on the other end, he hung up.

 

     Chet looked over at the man. “Did you get disconnected?”

 

     “No.”

 

     “But that was Johnny.”

 

     “I know who it was.”

 

     “But—“

 

     The phone rang again, interrupting Chet.  Roy picked it up and heard the familiar voice of John Gage on the other end. 

 

     “Roy, listen—“

 

     “I’m not in the mood to talk right now.”

 

     “But, Roy, I didn’t—“

 

     Roy hung up the phone again.    He ignored the odd look Chet was giving him as he returned to the table.  When the phone rang for a third time, Roy made no move to answer it.  When Chet determined it wasn’t going to quit ringing, and that Roy had no intention of answering it, he wiped his hands off and jogged across the room again.

 

     “Station 51. Fireman. . .sure, Johnny.  Just a minute.”  Chet held out the phone.  “Roy it’s-–“      

 

     “I already told him I’m not in the mood to talk.”

 

     “But—“

 

     “Chet, just tell him I’m not available right now.”

 

     “But you’re sitting right here and—“

 

     “Chet!”

 

     “Okay, okay.  Don’t bite my head off.”  Chet moved the receiver back to his mouth.  “Johnny, Roy says—“

 

     “I heard him.  Thanks.”

 

     “Sure—“

 

     Before Chet could say anything else Johnny hung up.  Chet looked at the phone, shrugged his shoulders, then returned the receiver to the cradle. 

 

     “What’s up with you two?” Chet asked as he headed for the stove once more.

 

     “Nothing.”

 

     “Then how come you won’t talk to—“

 

     “I told you I have a headache.  I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone right now.”

 

     “I know, but maybe you need to.  I mean, if things aren’t going good at. . .well, let’s just say things aren’t going good at home, and if that’s the case, then you probably should talk to someone who—“ 

 

     Roy shoved away from the table. 

 

     “Call me when lunch is ready.  I’ll be in the dorm.  Evidently that’s the only place a guy can get little peace and quiet around here.”

 

After Roy had left the room Chet looked at Henry who was watching the activity from a sofa cushion.

 

"Well, how do you like them apples?  That's the thanks I get for trying to help a guy out.  See, Henry, it really is a dog-eat- dog world out there."

 

Chapter 12

 

     Todd hadn’t planned to skip school that Monday morning.  As a matter of fact, it felt good to be talking to Chris again, and to get an invitation from Chris to ride horses at John Gage’s ranch.  But then Matt came along, and what he had to offer was too hard to resist, especially after the weekend Todd had just experienced.  

    

    The young man hadn’t thought it was possible to get anymore depressed than he had been since Thanksgiving, but things only seemed to be getting worse, never better. Todd had overheard his father talking to his Aunt Pauline on Saturday when she came over to spend time with Todd’s mom.   Dad told Aunt Pauline there would likely be no money for Todd to attend college, and during his high school years he'd have to help take care of his mother.  After that. . .well, after that, his mom would probably be in a nursing home, which meant no college tuition for Todd even ten years or more down the road. 

 

     “How do I tell him that, Pauline?” Todd’s dad had asked with anguish in his voice.  “How do I tell my eighth grader he’ll spend his teen years helping me act as a nurse to his mother, and when it’s over, there will be nothing left to offer for his future education? Nothing left to give him a future on.”

 

     It was with his father’s words weighing heavily on Todd’s mind, that he decided skipping school was a better alternative than attending classes that were going to do him little good in the years to come.

 

     Matt and Todd left the school grounds at a run that morning.  When they were far enough away, they slowed to a walk.  They ambled down residential streets, keeping one eye out for patrol cars. Shortly before noon, Todd suggested they stop at McDonald’s for lunch.

 

     “That’s cool,” Matt agreed. “But I don’t have any money.”

 

     “I do,” Todd said as he pulled a roll of cash from his pocket.  He’d been delivering newspapers for two weeks now after school to help support his drug habit.

 

     “Great.  I’ll pay you back later.”

 

     Todd nodded as he led the way into the fast food restaurant.  Between them, the boys ordered four cheeseburgers, two large French fries, and two large Cokes. 

 

     Matt and Todd spent thirty minutes at McDonald’s.  When they finished eating, they visited the men’s room, then headed out the door.  They set off walking again, not particularly concerned as to where they’d end up.  An hour later, Matt pointed towards a water tower across the street from a vacant piece of land on the outskirts of a quiet neighborhood.

 

     "Let's climb up there."

 

     "What for?"

 

     "Just to see the sights, and to get away from the cops.  When it's about time for school to be over, we can come down."

 

     Todd nodded his agreement.  "Okay."

 

     The boys ignored the warning signs mounted on the blue legs of the one hundred and forty foot tower.

 

Danger.  Keep Off.

 

     Matt grabbed onto the metal ladder that went up the side of the tower and started to climb, with Todd right behind him.  By the time they were halfway up, Todd realized how high in the air they were.  He didn't risk looking down for fear he wouldn't have the courage to keep climbing.

 

     Once they reached the top of the structure, it wasn't nearly as frightening.  A metal platform eight feet deep ringed the round tank that measured one hundred and fifty feet in circumference.  A metal railing with a flat ledge twelve inches wide, circled the platform, making it easy for the boys to safely sit down and allow their feet to dangle off the edge.  For a while, Todd kept one hand on the railing that was a few inches above his head, but soon, like Matt, he let go completely.  Matt dug into the side pocket of his denim jacket and pulled out a joint.

 

     "Here."

 

     "What's this for?"

 

     "To smoke, stupid.  Besides, I told ya' when we ate lunch, I'd pay you back."

 

     "Oh.  Okay."  Todd held the joint while Matt lit it.  "Thanks."

 

     Matt dug out another joint and lit it for himself.  The boys swung their feet back and forth as though they didn't have a care in the world and watched as traffic passed far below them.  Todd thought about how much things had changed in his life since Thanksgiving.  There was a part of him that knew he wouldn't be sitting on this water tower today smoking pot if it hadn't been for two words, Huntington's Disease.  But, if he was going to die anyway, he might as well experience all of life he could.  What was the point in worrying about good grades, or a college education, when you had a fifty percent chance of being dead by the time you were forty?  Todd's uncle had been thirty-seven when he died, and his Aunt Helen had been thirty-nine.  Todd's mother was thirty-nine now.  Based on what Todd had read, she might live another ten years, but beyond that was unlikely.  And even if she did live ten more years, she'd have little quality to her life.  Huntington's would rob her of everything.  Her mobility.  Her independence.  And eventually, her mind.  If that's what Todd faced in another twenty years, then he was going to make the most of the time left to him.  Maybe drugs weren't the best way to experience life, but they did help a guy forget the painful parts of it.

 

     Todd readily accepted the second joint Matt handed him.  Usually Matt wasn't so generous if you didn't cough up some money.  Todd figured he'd take advantage of Matt's good mood while it lasted.

 

     Halfway through this joint, Todd began to notice sensations he'd never experienced before when smoking pot.  Normally he felt giddy at first, then a little dizzy, followed by a calm, mellow feeling that ultimately left him drowsy.  But this time, Todd felt wired.  Like he'd guzzled too many Mountain Dews, only magnified one hundred times.  He felt. . .powerful.  Yeah, that was the word.  Powerful.  Like he could do anything and no one or nothing could stop him.

    

     Todd finished his joint and stood.  He swung himself up on the railing’s ledge. He held out his hands and began to walk like he was on a balance beam.  He looked down at the ground one hundred feet below him, then turned to Matt and grinned.

 

     "This is some pretty good hash you got us, Matty."

 

     Matt grinned back as he, too, began to feel sensations that were foreign to him.

 

     "No shit there, man."  Matt climbed on the railing as well.  "Absolutely no shit there."

 

     The teenagers traveling the narrow railing were too stoned to notice the bees flying beneath the platform, coming and going from their hive.

 

___________________________________

 

 

     If Johnny's former trainees noticed he was preoccupied after he returned from the dorm where he'd gone to use the phone, neither of them commented on it, or at least not directly.  Bob Lawrence was dishing up lunch for himself, his partner Shawn O'Brien, and Johnny. The Station 110 engine crew had been called out to a fire a few minutes earlier.  Bob returned the large casserole dish to the oven and set the dial on warm so the chicken and noodles would still be edible for his station mates when they returned.

 

     Bob and Shawn couldn't have been any more of a contrast in features and personality than Johnny and Roy were.  Bob was a tall, lean black man of twenty-eight with well-defined biceps from the hours he spent working out in the department's gym.  Shawn O'Brien stood a mere five foot nine, which made him six inches shorter than his dark skinned partner.  He was the classic stereotype of someone who possessed Irish heritage.  Deep red hair, pale skin, bright blue eyes, and freckles on his face, arms, and upper body.  Shawn was twenty-four, and as stocky as Bob was thin.  Bob was the quieter and more serious of the two, while Shawn was boisterous and always ready to tease or tell a joke.  Johnny liked both men and thought highly of their skills.  The evaluation was going as smoothly as he'd foreseen it would.

 

     "Somethin' the matter with my cooking, Johnny?"  Bob asked as he sat across the table from the senior paramedic.  Johnny wasn't eating with the gusto Bob had witnessed previous times he'd worked with the man.  John was pushing his food around with his fork, but never actually sent any of it to his mouth.

 

     "Huh?  What?"  Johnny looked up.  "Did you say something?"

 

     "I asked if there was anything wrong with my cooking."

 

     "Oh.  Oh, no. Sorry.  It's good.  I'm just. . .my mind's somewhere else, I guess."

 

     "Everything okay?"  Shawn asked.  He didn't know whom Johnny had called, but had been aware the man was on the phone a few minutes earlier.

 

     "Yeah.  Sure.  Everything's okay."

 

     Shawn winked at Bob as he teased their instructor.  "Bet you're thinking how much you like working with us, but you don't know how to break the news to Roy, is that it?"

 

     It's kind of hard to break any news to Roy at the moment, considering he's not speaking to me for some reason.

 

     Johnny kept those thoughts to himself and smiled as much as he could muster.  "Yeah.  That's it."

 

     "Well, now, you go back to Station 51 and tell old Roy that—“

 

     The klaxons went off in the middle of Shawn's sentence.

 

     "Squad 110, unknown rescue at the water tower on Locus Street.  Approach from the east off Wilshire Boulevard and travel one half mile.  East off Wilshire Boulevard and one half mile on Locus Street.  Time out; 12:45."

 

     Shawn confirmed the call with dispatch while scribbling down the directions.  He handed the slip to Bob who was behind the wheel of the squad, then ran around to the passenger side.  Johnny, who was seated between his former trainees, took the slip, though he didn't need to refer to it.  He'd passed the water tower a number of times when he was in the DeSotos' neighborhood and knew it was three miles from Chris's school. 

 

     Like he did when he was riding with Roy, Johnny efficiently navigated Bob to the scene using the quickest route possible.

 

____________________________

 

     Nine minutes after they’d received the call, the Station 110 paramedics and John Gage arrived at the scene.  An older man wearing a black business suit and tie stood outside his car, impatiently glancing at his watch.  As soon as Bob brought the squad to a halt, the man approached.  Bob rolled down his window.

 

     “Crazy kids,” the balding insurance salesman said. “See them up there?”

 

     Bob looked up as Johnny and Shawn strained to see out the front window.

 

     “We see ‘em,” Bob acknowledged.

 

     “I went home for lunch and was headed back to my office when I spotted them. I went to the nearest house and asked a lady to call for help.  You don’t need me to stick around, do you?  I really need to get back to work.  I’ve got a one-thirty appointment.”

 

     “No, we don’t need you to stay,” Bob said as he climbed out of the squad.  “Thanks for your help.”

 

     “You’re welcome.”  The man shook his head as he looked up at the boys standing on the narrow railing.  “Stupid kids.  Are they on drugs or something?”

 

     The man didn’t appear to want an answer to his question.  He returned to the white Lincoln he was driving, started it, and pulled away from the curb.

 

     Shawn and Johnny exited from the squad’s passenger side.  Johnny grabbed the bullhorn from one of the compartments.  He walked up the grassy incline toward the water tower.  He stopped fifteen feet from it so he wasn’t directly beneath it, meaning the boys could still see him. He aimed the horn up.

 

     “Boys!  Get off of that railing and climb down!”

 

     Matt’s right hand rose and he thrust his middle finger upward.  “Fuck you, cop!”

 

     Johnny rolled his eyes as he dropped his arm to his side.  He turned to Bob and Shawn.

 

     “Why do I get the feeling these kids aren’t going to be cooperative?”

 

     The men chuckled at Johnny’s dry comment. They turned for the squad. Shawn glanced over his shoulder at the water tower. He estimated it to be one hundred and fifty feet in height, with the railing the boys were on being one hundred feet from the ground.  Shawn had been forced to conquer his fear of heights in the fire academy, but that didn’t mean he had to like them, or enjoy this type of rescue.  He opened the compartment where the ropes and safety harnesses were kept.  Before he could grab the equipment, Johnny stepped in front of him. 

 

     “I’ll go with Bob. You get out the bio-phone and trauma box in case we need them. And you’d better contact dispatch and have them put a call in to the cops.  I have a feeling if these kids don’t need to make a trip to Rampart, then they’ll be spending some time at a police station until their parents can be contacted.”

 

    

     “You don’t have to climb up there.  It’s our call.  I’ll go.”

 

     Johnny grinned as he hoisted a thick wad of rope over his shoulder.  “They don’t call me Station 51’s mountain goat for nothing, you know.  I haven’t had a good climb in quite a while. Don’t wanna get out of practice.”

 

     Shawn smiled his thanks.

 

     “Just keep an eye on things,” Johnny ordered. “If those kids give us a hassle, put in a call for an engine.  I don’t wanna crew standing around doing nothing if we can handle this alone, but, on the other side of the coin, I don’t want one of those knucklehead kids falling before we can get either of them roped off.”

 

     Shawn nodded, knowing an engine crew would have a Life Net if needed.  He leaned in the squad and contacted dispatch as Johnny had instructed.  He watched as John and Bob finished attaching their safety harnesses around their waists, then hiked together for the water tower’s ladder.  Johnny took the lead and started climbing.  He never looked down as, hand-over-hand, he scaled his way upward with ease.

 

After requesting a police officer be sent to the scene, Shawn retrieved the trauma box and bio-phone from their compartments.  He set them on the ground, but didn’t contact Rampart at this time.  Until Johnny or Bob gave him more information about the boys, Shawn didn’t want to tie up Rampart’s base station air-traffic.  If the kids were fine, physically speaking, but just pulling a foolish stunt, then they’d be turned over to the police.  If there was something more to their behavior than teenage foolishness and Rampart had to be contacted, Shawn could do so in a matter of seconds.  The redheaded man craned his neck, his eyes following John Gage’s movements. The lanky paramedic made the transition from the ladder to the metal walkway, all the while ignoring the curses and threats of Matt Moran.

 

___________________________________

 

Johnny slowly approached the boys.  Without turning around, he knew Bob was behind him.

 

“Boys, come on down from there, now.”

 

“Drop dead, pig.”

 

Johnny sighed. “First of all, I’m not a police officer.  I’m a paramedic with the fire department.  And second of all, kid, your shenanigans interrupted my lunch.  So put a lid on that smart mouth and climb down onto this walkway.”

 

“Down?” Matt’s mouth spread into a lazy, slow grin.  “You want me to get down?”

 

“That’s what I said.”

 

Matt turned so he was facing Shawn and the squad far below.  He spread his arms wide.

 

“Okay, I’ll get down. I can fly, you know.  Just like Superman!  Here I go.  Geroni—“

 

Johnny rushed the teenager. He wrapped his arms around Matt’s knees and yanked backwards. The lip of his helmet hit the tower’s thick tank, causing the helmet to pop off since Gage had never tightened his chinstrap. It landed with a clatter on the walkway as Bob joined in the fray. 

 

Matt was a big boy, but he was no match for the two men.  Johnny kept his arms around the teenager’s legs while Bob pinned his shoulders. Matt bucked, trying to kick his feet and flail his fists, but he couldn’t break free. 

 

“Calm down, kid!  Calm down!”

 

Johnny’s shouts had no effect as curse words filled the air.  Matt turned his face and tried to spit on the men.  All he got for his efforts was spittle dribbling down his chin. Johnny sat on the boy’s waist while Bob kept Matt’s upper body held firm against the walkway.  Johnny felt like he was hogtying someone as he grappled to get a safety harness on the teen.  It was obvious Matt wasn’t going to climb down the ladder, so they’d hoist him over the side and lower him to Shawn.

 

John flicked his head, trying to get hair and sweat out of his eyes.  He had no idea where the other kid was, and hoped the boy had the good sense to climb off the railing.

 

“Kid, this would be a lot easier on both of us if you’d cooperate.”

 

“Pig!  God damn, pig!  Let me go!  Let me go, you shit-head!”

 

A siren pierced the air.  Johnny glanced down as he and Bob hauled Matt to his feet.  He was relieved to see Vince Howard climb out of the patrol car that had just been parked a few feet in front of Squad 110.

 

“Good,” a breathless Johnny said to Bob.  “Shawn will have help when this Muhammad-Ali-wannabe makes it to the ground.”

 

Matt dug his heels into the walkway, trying to prevent the paramedics from getting him to the railing. 

 

“Oh no, you don’t,” Johnny said.  “You wanted to go over the side before, kid, well now I’ll be happy to help you.”

 

“Pig!  You can’t do this to me!  You’ll kill me!  I’ll die!”

 

“You’re not gonna die. You’ve got a harness on and a rope.  We’re going to lower you down.”

 

“If I die my parents will sue!  They’ll sue!”

 

“Good for them,” Johnny muttered as he and Bob lifted the struggling Matt over the railing.  Matt fought like a fish on the end of a line, but he had no means of escape as John and Bob lowered him to the ground by slowly feeding the thick rope over the railing.  Johnny glanced at Todd, who was still standing on the railing ten feet from him.

 

“Son, come on down.”

 

Todd’s demeanor wasn’t one of defiance like Matt’s had been, but rather one that bordered depression as far as Johnny was concerned.  The boy shook his head.

 

Johnny kept one eye on Todd and one eye on Matt.  When he saw Vince and Shawn grab the teen as his feet hit the grass, Johnny turned the rope over to Bob.  As soon as Shawn had the rope disconnected from Matt’s safety harness, Bob reeled it back up in the event they needed to lower Todd to the ground, too.

 

Matt fought his way out of Vince’s hold before the police officer could subdue him.  He took off running.  Bob pointed and yelled.

 

“Shawn!  Grab him!”

 

Shawn turned from where he’d been headed for the trauma box. He spotted the fleeing teen and raced after him.

 

“Go help them,” Johnny instructed.  “I’ll get the other boy down by myself.”

 

“What if he puts up a fight?”

 

Johnny glanced at Todd again.  It took a moment for him to place where he’d seen the kid before, but then it came to him.

 

This is Chris’s friend Todd. The kid he was talking to me about last week.

 

“I’ll be fine.  He doesn’t look like he’s got much fight in him, and even if he does, he’s not nearly as big as the other kid.”

 

Bob saw Shawn tackle Matt, then watched as Matt’s fist came up and connected with Shawn’s chin.

 

“Okay.  Looks like Shawn and Vince can use my help.  Shout if you need me.”

 

“I will.”

 

Bob left the rope and the additional safety harness they’d brought.  As he began climbing down the ladder, Johnny turned to Todd.

 

“Todd, come on down now.”

 

Todd blinked heavily, as though he was half asleep. “How do you know my name?”

 

“You’re Chris DeSoto’s friend.  I met you at his Halloween party.”

 

“Oh.”  Todd squinted.  “You’re. . .you’re Uncle Johnny, right?”

 

“That’s right.” Johnny nodded.  “I’m John Gage.”

 

“Well, I’m not coming down.”

 

“How come?”

 

Todd looked over his shoulder, and then to ground far below.

 

“I’m gonna jump.”

 

Johnny eased closer to the boy while his attention was elsewhere.

 

“Why?”

 

“ ‘Cause I wanna die, that’s why.”

 

“What happened that makes you say that?”

 

“Nothing.”  Todd turned to face Johnny again.  He didn’t seem to be alarmed that Johnny was within a few feet of him.  “I am gonna die, you know.”

 

“Someday,” Johnny acknowledged.  “Many years from now when you’re an old man and have lived a full life, yes, you will. But not today, Todd.  You’re not going to die today.”

 

“I’m not gonna live to be an old man.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“My mom has Huntington’s Disease.  Do you know what that is?”

 

“I do.”

 

“Then you know why I won’t live to be an old man.  Then you know why I don’t care if I die today.”

 

“Todd—“

 

“It doesn’t matter.  None of it.”  Todd waved a listless hand at the clouds on the horizon. “Not good grades.  Not whether I have the right friends, or the wrong friends.  Not whether I play basketball, or I just hang out with Matt and smoke pot. None of it matters ‘cause I’m gonna die before I ever get a chance to be old.  My grandpa did. He died of Huntington’s.  My Aunt Pauline was only five when he died. My Uncle Robert. . .he died of Huntington’s, too, when I was little.  I don’t remember him.  Aunt Helen. . .I remember her.  She died of Huntington’s when I was nine.  Now my mom has it. Me and my brother, Scott. . .we have a fifty percent chance of having it, too.”

 

“Which means you have a fifty percent chance of not having it as well,” Johnny said as he took a step closer to the boy.

 

“I guess,” Todd shrugged. “But if you ask me, the odds suck.”

 

“Have you spoken to anyone about this, Todd?”  Johnny asked. “About your concerns?”

 

“No. No one knows.  Not even Chris.  My dad and mom and my brother. . . they won’t talk about it.  They think I don’t know what’s wrong with Mom, but I do.  I heard them talking. Then I went to the library and looked up some stuff.  That’s why I know all about it.”

 

Johnny held out his right hand. “Look, why don’t you climb down and then I’ll find someone for you to talk to about this.  Someone who can help you sort out your worries.  And you need to tell your dad and mom—“

 

“No! I’m not telling them anything!  Don’t you see they have enough problems without having to worry about me!  They’re not going to have any money!  I won’t be able to go to college! Maybe Scott will even have to drop—“

 

Todd’s tirade caused his balance to falter.  Just as his body tilted backwards Johnny lunged forward.  He grabbed a hold of the boy’s belt and yanked.  They tumbled to the walkway, Johnny landing on his back with Todd on top of him.  Todd’s arms flailed as he tried to break the paramedic’s hold.  Johnny rolled so he could keep the boy beneath him.  John’s foot shot out, connecting with his helmet.  As Todd screamed, “Let me go! Let me go!”  The helmet sailed between the railing and walkway, bouncing against the metal legs of the tower as it fell to the ground.

 

Angry bees left their hive, intent on discovering what or who was invading their territory.

 

 

Part 3