For the Children

“I had no idea he was—”

He would’ve felt stupid sleeping on cartoon characters, anyway.

“It’s okay, Mom. I know.”

His room was small, but then he didn’t have much junk. Just the old dresser he’d helped his mom bring in from someone’s trash a couple of years ago, and his desk with an old computer she’d gotten from someplace he didn’t want to know about. And the television set and video games she’d bought him for Christmas the year before when she’d had a bunch of money.

“But he hurt you, honey.”

Resting her weight on one arm, she leaned toward him, brushing his hair back. He felt like a baby when she did that. But as long as no one else knew, he figured it was okay.

“It’s okay, Mom. It’s just a few bruises. They stopped hurting already.” Or they would if he could just stop thinking about them. A whiff of his mother’s soft perfume took his mind from the way life had become.

“But what about basketball? You’re not allowed to play if you miss practice and you’re so close to making the play-offs.”

He shrugged. And couldn’t breathe for a second from the burning stab in his shoulder blade. The stupid tears came back and he had to turn his head sharply away from her.

“Coach’ll let me play. I’m the best guy on the team.” The lie was safe. She couldn’t make it to games. He’d just hang out until they were over.

Her soft lips on his cheek made things good. Or as good as they got in his life.

Until a drop of water smeared on his cheek. She was crying again. The kind he hated most, when there was no sound. Not even sniffling.

“You’re my best guy, you know that, don’t you, Abie?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” Someday he was going to be her only guy. Someday real soon. He already had some ideas about how to get enough money to lock the bastards out of the trailer for good. He’d spent the whole day thinking about it.

That and trying to forget about those fat hands on him last night. Coming at him again and again when he wouldn’t…

“Diane Moore called today.”

Shit. “Why? You called McDonald and told them I was sick.”

She kissed him again, her fingers soft and slender against his head. “I forgot.”

Rigid, staring at the wall, Abe silently recited a slew of words that Blake and Brian Smith would never in a million years say.

Didn’t she get it? He couldn’t help her if they hauled his ass away.

Not that that was going to happen. He’d make damn sure of it. One way or another. He’d run if he had to.

“Ms. Moore said we have to be in court in the morning for a status hearing.”

He didn’t care how much it hurt to turn his head, he stared into the darkness until he could see her eyes. His mom didn’t look him in the eye and lie to him. Ever.

“They’re going to send me to jail,” he said. He felt as if he might throw up. Or have diarrhea.

“Oh, Abie.” His mother smiled right at him. Abe’s throbbing shoulder and the place on his back didn’t burn quite as badly. “They aren’t going to throw you in jail for missing school.”

“I broke probation—”

“You missed school, Abie,” she said, her voice sounding all momlike. God, he wished she was like this all the time. “We’re due for a status hearing. I probably just lost the slip of paper with the date.”

He didn’t remember there being a date, but it wasn’t like he paid that much attention. Mostly, he just tried to forget the whole court thing. He still couldn’t figure out why those official types had to get involved. It wasn’t as though he was stupid. Missing school didn’t hurt him. He got straight As and knew a lot more than most of the kids.

“Okay,” he finally said, wishing he could put on his headset and go to sleep. ’Course, if it was like last night, every time he moved in his sleep he’d just wake up again.

Life sucked.