Kamikaze Boys

by Jay Bell

  “Instead of using your intelligence,” his father continued, “you reacted. Stupidly. Did you really think they were going to put you in the same cell as Connor? You’re a minor. He is an adult.”

  “They try people my age as an adult when the situation warrants it,” David shot back.

  “Yes, but not for a petty crime like vandalizing a car. My god, David, you need to get a grip! Your life hasn’t even begun, and since you met that boy, you’ve been doing everything in your power to ruin it.”

  “It’s not his fault!” David stood and pointed a finger toward the door. “You have no fucking idea what I go through out there. You want me to study and get good grades? Well, it’s a little hard when some asshole is constantly trying to beat me up for being gay. And yeah, maybe I should have called the cops, but do you really think they would have done anything to stop him? Why do I have to get my ass kicked before anyone will help me?”

  “You need to ask for help to get it, David.”

  “I tried telling you! You told me to keep my head down. Well, I did. Gordon and I were going for a walk, minding our own business, and look!” David lifted his shirt and turned around. The bruises were even darker now. He could only see the edges of them, but the shock on his father’s face told them how bad they looked. “All you care about is me going to college. I’m sick of it! If you had bothered to talk to me about anything else, maybe none of this would have happened.”

  David doubted that was true, but throwing everything back at him felt good.

  His father was quiet, staring at the bruises until David lowered his shirt. Only then did he speak. “We have to report to the police station tomorrow to deal with what happened tonight. While we’re there, I’ll make sure the boys who attacked you are properly punished. I’m going to show you that the system works, and I’m going to make sure this mistake doesn’t haunt you the rest of your life. Do you understand?”

  David blinked in surprise and nodded.

  “Good. Now please go to your room and stay there. There’s nothing you can do to get to Connor. He’ll be in a county jail by now. Even if you get yourself arrested again, you’ll be brought to a holding cell nowhere near him. The police can confirm that for you tomorrow if you don’t believe me. Get some sleep. We’ll deal with this in the morning.”

  His father stood and watched David until he went downstairs. David waited at the bottom of the steps, listening to his father click off living room lamps before he went up to his room. Or more likely to his office for a drink. David thought about sneaking out again, just to feel free from all of this, but he had nowhere to go and nothing he could do. Feeling powerless, he went to his room, got into bed, and stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep.

  * * * * *

  The next morning David and his father operated under truce. Breakfast started quietly, but his father reaffirmed his intention to take care of David while making sure Chuck and his friends were punished. He spent the rest of the morning on the phone as David washed the dishes and straightened up around the house. David was in enough trouble already, and he preferred his father remain an ally instead of an enemy.

  In the afternoon they went together to the police station, David’s stomach bubbling nervously. Once inside, he craned his neck at every opportunity, hoping to see Connor. Maybe he hadn’t been moved to county jail yet. David might see him on his way out or sitting at a desk while an officer guided him through paperwork. This hope helped distract David from his anxiety, but he saw no sign of Connor as they were escorted to a conference room.

  A man with a salt-and-pepper mustache joined them, dressed in a conservative suit. He shook their hands energetically and beamed at them as if they were welcome guests.

  “Richard, David, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Loren Corrigan, and I’m the district attorney. I believe you spoke with my assistant earlier today?”

  David’s father nodded. “Yes. Thank you for making the time to see us.”

  “My pleasure. I appreciate you being so proactive in the matter. Please, have a seat.”

  They sat at a generic table laminated with fake wood. David watched in fascination as Mr. Corrigan took a number of paperclipped documents from a briefcase and arranged them on the table. These papers held the power to change David’s future, whether he liked it or not. When the district attorney spoke next, David was surprised to find himself being addressed instead of his father.

  “Seeing as this is your first offense, David, we’d like to help you avoid going to court. Your father told me you’ve always kept your nose clean and that you’re an intelligent young man. It would be a shame for you to have a criminal record before beginning life as an adult. Likewise, I think we can all agree that you entering a juvenile correctional facility would be less than ideal. Am I right?”

  David nodded quickly. The idea of being with Connor in jail had made sense only when he was half-crazy with anger. Not only would Connor not be in juvenile hall, but people like Chuck probably would be. David wanted to avoid that at all costs.

  “As I discussed with your father,” Mr. Corrigan continued, “Johnson County does offer second chances to first-time offenders. The diversion program was created for situations like yours. Are you interested in that, David?”

  He nodded again. “What would I have to do?”

  Mr. Corrigan shuffled some papers. “Well, I suppose you could consider it a form of probation. You’ll be signing a contract with the county, promising not to get into trouble in the next six months. You’ll have to continue attending school, which I understand hasn’t been a problem so far. You’ll also be subject to drug screening if your diversion officer requests it. Usually there are extra classes covering topics such as anger management, but your father would prefer to attend therapy sessions with you.”

  David looked at his father.

  “We both could use someone to talk to,” he explained, “and a neutral perspective.”

  “Okay,” David said. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about the idea, but it sounded better than going to “anger management” classes.

  “Aside from you staying out of trouble,” Mr. Corrigan continued, “we need you to make amends with Charles Bryl. We don’t expect you to interact with him directly, but you need to pay for the damages to his vehicle.”

  David expected as much, so this wasn’t hard to swallow. If he took a summer job, he could probably earn enough money to pay it off and maybe even save a little for the move to Florida. If that was still possible. If diversion was like probation, the move might pose a problem, but now wasn’t the time to ask about that.

  “And finally, there are the charges against Charles Bryl.”

  “And Chuck’s friend,” David interjected.

  Mr. Corrigan flipped through some papers. “From what I understand, the friend didn’t attack you directly.”

  “He could have,” David said. “It was hard to tell who was kicking me when I was balled up on the ground.”

  Mr. Corrigan raised his eyebrows, and David’s father cleared his throat. They acted as if David was swearing in church when he was simply telling the truth. Chuck and his friend had committed a crime, so what was the big deal? David soon found out.

  “There’s one more stipulation to your diversion agreement. I’ve spoken with the lawyer representing the Bryls, and they are just as eager to put this whole incident behind them. My office is offering a diversion agreement to Charles as well. For him to qualify for diversion, he needs to drop all charges against you. By Kansas law, what you did is considered assault, possibly aggravated assault if the court considers a baseball bat a deadly weapon.”

  “But I didn’t even touch him!”

  “Putting him in fear of bodily harm is how our legal system defines assault.”

  In that case, Chuck had “assaulted” David countless times. Maybe his father was right. The laws were so screwed up that David should have called the police before now.

  “Charles has already agreed to
drop these charges against you. For you to qualify for diversion, you would need to do the same.”

  David’s father cleared his throat. “There’s a world of difference between damaging someone’s car and being physically attacked. It seems to me that the crime you’re asking us to forgive Charles for is much graver than the one my son committed. Show him your bruises, David.”

  He was glad to comply. He lifted his shirt and showed his back, and while Mr. Corrigan’s reaction wasn’t as shocked as his father’s had been, he did appear sympathetic when David turned around.

  “I wouldn’t like seeing that happen to any of my children either,” Mr. Corrigan said. “Have those injuries been photographed?”

  David shook his head.

  “We’ll do that before you leave the station today.” He turned to David’s father. “I know what I’m asking isn’t easy, but I need you to think of your son’s future. Diversion is the only way to spare him from spending time in a detention center. The entire offense will also be stricken from his record.” The district attorney made eye contact with David. “If you abide by the agreements set out, it will be like none of this ever happened.”

  The idea of forgiving Chuck nauseated David. Part of him was temped, purely out of spite, to refuse. Still, maybe there was a way he could turn this to his advantage.

  “I’ll agree if Chuck drops the charges against Connor.”

  “David,” his father said warningly.

  “What? It’s only fair! Connor wouldn’t have beat up Chuck if Chuck hadn’t attacked me first. If we’re going to sweep everything under the carpet, then Connor should be included.”

  Mr. Corrigan tensed. “The juvenile diversion program doesn’t apply to Connor Williams. He is an adult and has already received his sentence. I understand your distress that your friend has to serve time, but there’s no need for you to do the same.”

  “He’s my boyfriend, not my friend,” David muttered.

  “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do for him.”

  David glared at him, not responding. Mr. Corrigan gathered up the papers on the table and put them back in the briefcase as if the deal were off. He stopped just before closing it and addressed David again. “I understand loyalty. Believe me, I do, but you getting into trouble over this isn’t going to help Connor. You’ll only be hurting yourself.”

  David’s shoulders slumped. He didn’t want to get locked up, and Chuck’s family probably had a lawyer good enough to find some other way of keeping him out of trouble.

  “Maybe I should give you two a moment to talk this over,” Mr. Corrigan said.

  “No,” David said. “I’ll agree.”

  The next half hour was taken up with filling out paperwork. Letting Chuck off the hook wasn’t a happy experience, but the idea that he was betraying Connor was worse. Logically David knew Connor wouldn’t want him to get into trouble, but the feeling was hard to shake.

  When they were finished, the district attorney thanked them for their cooperation. Then a police officer took David to another room where his mug shot and fingerprints were taken. All a normal part of the diversion program, the officer assured him. David noticed his father’s face was especially grim during this, as if his worst fears had been confirmed and David had begun his life as a career criminal. Then they photographed David’s bruises, his father clenching his jaw through the whole process. David thought he was angry at him until they were in the car.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What?” David hadn’t expected to hear these words.

  His father scowled at the road ahead. “What they asked of you wasn’t fair. You were attacked without provocation, and while I still don’t agree with your reaction, the other boy deserved a lot worse.”

  “I agree,” David said carefully.

  “And I’m proud of you for doing the right thing and thinking of your future.”

  David covertly rolled his eyes. “So what’s next? Ice cream?”

  His father checked his watch. “We probably should have an early dinner before our therapy session.”

  “We’re going tonight?”

  His father ignored this outburst, so David turned and looked moodily out the window. Whoever the therapist was, if they dared asked how David was feeling, they were in for an earful.

  * * * * *

  “Have you ever considered, Richard, that by pressuring your son so much, you are ensuring he’ll do the opposite of what you want?”

  David stared. The psychologist was a tiny man with a bald head. He had a tidy dark goatee and was dressed in a business shirt and slacks that had quite possibly come from the children’s department. Despite his small size, his intense blue eyes gave him presence—as did his last name, which was Wolf. If this had been a horror movie, the unassuming Dr. Wolf would of course turn out to be the werewolf terrorizing the village.

  Except he wasn’t devouring peasants. He was giving David’s father a rather stern lecture. First he had spoken to David’s father alone, then called David into the office. David had been sure he was going to get a telling off, but just the opposite was happening.

  “When children are born, they are helpless. We have to guide their actions to keep them happy and healthy and safe, but as a child becomes independent, this habit can be difficult to break. It’s normal for every parent to feel this way. But the child reaches an age, usually around puberty, where this heavy-handed guidance can work to your disadvantage.”

  David’s father was at a loss for words, but only momentarily. “I don’t think letting a teenager do whatever he wants is very wise.”

  “That’s not what I’m suggesting,” Dr. Wolf replied. “David, are you aware that your education is important to your father?”

  “Are you kidding? That’s all he talks about.” David shifted on the leather couch. His father was seated beside him, which meant he didn’t have to look at him directly. That made talking about him easier. “I’m doing the best I can, but I want to make my own choices.”

  “So you see,” Dr. Wolf turned back to David’s father, “there’s little point in repeatedly telling him what he already knows. At this juncture, it can only do harm.”

  His father frowned. “Then what do you suggest?”

  “That you let David decide when the topic of education is important to him, or that you broach the subject by asking if he has any thoughts or questions. If he doesn’t, let him be.”

  David couldn’t imagine what dinner would be like without college or SATs dominating every conversation, but he was willing to find out.

  His father wasn’t quite ready to give up. “And I suppose I should let him live at home until he’s thirty, not daring to mention that he needs to get a job, lest I scare him away from doing so.”

  Dr. Wolf remained tranquil. “Richard, why don’t you take a break in the other room while I talk to David alone. How does that sound?”

  His father didn’t answer, but judging from the expression on his face, he was glad to leave. David waited until the door closed behind him before speaking.

  “That was amazing! I’ve never heard anyone talk that way to him before. Besides Mom, of course.”

  Dr. Wolf smiled. “Well, Richard and I were colleagues before I decided to open my own practice. I suppose that makes it easier to be direct with him and tell him what he needs to hear. But enough about him. I’m interested in hearing more about you.”

  David squirmed. Therapy was a lot more fun when the questions were directed at someone else. “What do you want to know?”

  “Well, why don’t you tell me a little about Connor. What sort of person is he?”

  Connor was normally his favorite subject, so David was surprised to find himself at a loss for words. At least, appropriate words. Dr. Wolf probably didn’t want to hear how hot Connor was.

  “Tell you what,” Dr. Wolf said helpfully, “why don’t you chose one word that describes him best.”

  “Misunderstood.” David was proud of fishing this wor
d out of the air because it told Dr. Wolf that Connor wasn’t the bad person everyone made him out to be.

  “Okay, he’s misunderstood. And why do you think that is?”

  “Because of the way he looks. He’s sort of big and intimidating, and he has this scar that people have made up stories about.”

  “What sort of stories?”

  “That he tried to kill his father and spent time in juvenile hall.”

  Dr. Wolf was quiet for a moment; David could guess what he was thinking. Connor had attacked someone and was now in jail. He would probably call it a self-fulfilling prophecy, but it wasn’t. Connor knew he wasn’t the person people made him out to be.

  “And would you say your life has gotten better or worse since you met Connor?”

  “Better.”

  Dr. Wolf tilted his head thoughtfully, the orange light from the nearby lamp reflecting off his bald head. “You answered that question very quickly.”

  David shrugged. “It’s the truth. Everything’s been better.”

  “Surely being on diversion isn’t better.”

  “But that wasn’t my fault.”

  Dr. Wolf raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, okay. So it was my fault. I guess you could say everything was better until the day Chuck beat me up.”

  “Let’s try something.” Dr. Wolf leaned forward. “Pretend for a moment, that you had never met Connor. Do you think that fight would have happened?”

  “It wasn’t a fight because I didn’t hit back. And yes, it still would have happened because Chuck was trying to beat me up before Connor was around.”

  “Fair enough. It still would have happened. But what do you think would have occurred after Chuck attacked you?”

  David took a deep breath. “I would have gone home, just like I did.”

  “And then?”

  “I guess I would have sat there feeling sorry for myself until Dad came home. Then we would have had dinner, I would have gone to my room, and my life would have kept on sucking.”

  “Your father would have reacted, though. He told me how upset he was when he saw the cuts and bruises. Do you think he would have called the police?”