Misunderstood

by Jay Sherfey

  “Who’re you!?” The yell came from behind. Jason jumped up and spun around. It was the boy in denim.

  “Jason. I’m new here.” He felt threatened. His head ached. “Who’re you?”

  The denim boy smiled malevolently and said, “I’m the boss around here.” The playground quieted; the other kids watched. “You got a quarter?”

  “No. I don’t have any money.” Jason lost control of the voices. He focused on this new problem.

  “Then I’ll just make sure you remember it tomorrow.” The boy pulled back his arm; his fist clenched. It shot forward but never landed. Dresden lay on the ground; his arms crossed over his face. Jason stood ready to fight, not realizing, he had already won.

  A flash of lightning and pounding thunder brought Jason back to the cafeteria. He had to know what really happened at their first meeting. He gathered his determination and approached Dresden and his gang. He waited to be recognized. With hands in his pockets, he looked at the children; they stood at the windows mesmerized by the raging storm.

  “I was wondering when you’d come back,” said Dresden. Jason’s attention snapped back. “OK, guys, get lost. Sutter and me got stuff to settle.” Unhappy to relinquish their seats, six boys evacuated the area. Jason, nervous, sat across from the larger boy, recalling Russ’s advice.

  “He’ll want to get back on top. So you can expect to get ambushed or somethin’. The best thing to do, and believe me I know what I’m talkin’ about, is take the hit, dive, and don’t get up. Dresden gets what he wants and everyone knows you’re playin’ along. Ya, know?” Jason hoped it wouldn’t come to punches.

  “I need to talk about what happened that first day in the playground.” Jason looked Dresden in the eye. He sat on his hands. His left leg twitched. “I know it wasn’t anything I did. I mean, I’m no match for you.” Afraid, he dropped his eyes. They locked onto a crack; it ran the length of the tabletop.

  “Look, Sutter, get to the point.” Dresden pulled a large set of keys from the pocket of his denim jacket. With the fingers of one hand he flipped through the lot one by one.

  “What happened?” asked Jason. He looked up. “What did you see that made you step back?”

  “I should just pound you into the dirt.” Dresden half-laughed. Each key turned over the ring and fell against the next with a distinctive, metallic clink. “I won’t.” He shook the keys after the last one fell; he flipped through them again. He thought for a moment. “I saw my dad comin’ at me drunk, dangerous. Course, it wasn’t him. How could it?” He paused. The keys came over the top of the ring faster; they clinked louder. “I don’t argue when I see ’im like that. I get the hell out of the way. So, I got out of the way and tripped.” He slapped the keys down on the table. Jason jumped at the sound but kept eye contact. “I have a question for you. How’d you do it? An’ even worse, how come I care ’bout things I didn’t before. I could just take whatever I wanted from these sheep. Suddenly, I feel bad about it. What the rat’s ass did you do to me?”

  “So far as I know, I didn’t do anything.” Jason brought his hands up; his palms faced out. He shook his head to stress his ignorance. “I’m sorry about the way your dad is. It’s not right.”

  “You did somethin’ Sutter.” He started with the keys again.

  Jason remained silent. He knew he was guilty as charged. Instead of receiving thoughts, he planted one. He created an image so real Dresden ran from it. How? Both legs started to dance under the table. White knuckled, his hands grasped the table’s edge. This constant ignorance made him wish he didn’t have the mental abilities he discovered over the last few months.

  The key flipping stopped. Dresden glared into Jason’s face. “You say a word of this to anyone and I’ll bury you. Got me?”

  “Yeah.” Jason nodded. “Got it.” He released the table, stood, and turned to go.

  “One more thing.” Jason froze. “Tell the Russell runt that he’s got guts. I respect that.”

  “I’ll tell ’im.” Jason headed back to Russ and Suzy. He felt Dresden’s eyes, following him.

  * * *

  “What is it with adults?” Jason sat with his friends. The storm continued to rage. Suzy was the first kid he met living in the Dubois house after he withdrew from his medication. If he met others before Suzy, they existed in a drugged haze. Everything was a blur until his mind cleared.

  “Did he really say he thought I had guts?” Russ smiled ear to ear.

  “Yes, Russ, but you’re missing my point.” Jason watched Russ try to get serious by losing his smile. He failed. It popped right back. Jason shook his head, annoyed.

  “What do you mean Jason?” asked Suzy. She pulled her shoulder length brown hair back behind her ear.

  “Dresden’s got one parent who beats him up. Rachel has one who scares her to death.” Rachel, like Suzy, was a Dubois foster child. “Lydia and Frank are scary. I mean, the kids in our house are there because of screwed up adults. Believe me I know. I’ve seen them.” Jason’s fisted hands lightly pounded the table. “Even you Suzy must have had some trouble.” Suzy looked down; she said nothing. “And Mr. Downing, the teacher who sat with me during the tests, had learning beaten into him. Aren’t there any good parents out there?”

  “Well, yeah,” said Russ, still smiling. “My parents are OK. You wouldn’t want them hangin’ ’round too much but they’re not scary. Funny scary, maybe.” Russ glanced down at his hands and chuckled. “My dad trying to be hip when my oldest sister’s friends come over is pretty weird.” A laugh escaped his control with the memory. Suzy giggled, watching Russ.

  Jason counted Russ as the person he could trust the most. Their first meeting, however, had not been auspicious.

  If the sixth grade class had a president, Russell Wyatt would be it. He stood up to Arthur Dresden a number of times and wound up bloodied on the ground. Every kid in the class respected his fearlessness and most liked him. He was the all American, likable kid with freckles, reddish brown hair, an energetic, loud mouth, and enough smarts to impress the teachers. When Jason stepped off the bus for his first day of class, Russell had followed him.

  “Hey, new kid!” yelled Russ. Jason’s battle with Dresden had been the day before.

  Jason turned, not knowing what to expect. He hoped Rachel would give him some tips since they were in the same class. She didn’t say two words to him on the bus even when he tried to be nice.

  “Yeah?” Jason turned and watched Russ approach. With all the other kids so close, he did not dare expend any more energy reading this person. He learned only a few weeks earlier he could read minds. Every errant thought within a given distance flashed in his consciousness. It took considerable focus to allow only one mind into his thoughts.

  “The name’s Russell Wyatt, you can call me Russ.” He looked Jason up and down and wondered how this skinny kid overpowered Dresden. “You’re a hero. You’re our hero after what you did yesterday.”

  “I don’t want to be a hero. I just want to be normal.” Jason rubbed his forehead; his head throbbed.

  “Too late. You will likely find yourself surrounded by kids wanting to be safe. I can help with that if you want.” Russ cocked an eyebrow.

  Jason almost smiled. “Oh? You have a plan?”

  “You stick with me, you won’t be crowded. All we have to do is get the word around that you expect something in return for guarding us from the bully. A fee to…”

  “Forget it. I don’t want to be like Dresden.” Jason stepped back, turned from Russ, and headed to an empty corner of the playground. Russ cut off his escape with a few quick steps.

  “You’re right. You’re right. Stupid idea.” Russ thought for a second. He massaged his chin with his right hand. Suddenly he held up his hands and pointed his index fingers at Jason. “Hey, what about this? We get Dresden to be your bodyguard and …” Jason stopped listening, desperate for quiet. He pushed by Russell to get away.

  “Hey, I was only tryin’ to help!” Russ watched him go; he
saw Rachel nearby. “Rachel, what’s his problem?”

  “He’s a real nutcase. Had to be put in a straight jacket a couple of times. Somehow he managed to get into school to ruin it for the rest of us.” She set off to join a group of girls who waited for her.

  “Very interesting.” Russell moved among his friends and let the new kid be by himself. He would make a connection, an act of self-preservation.

  Now, as they waited for the storm to subside, Russ and Suzy were the only two people who knew about Jason’s psychic abilities.

  “I have got to meet your parents, Russ.” Jason frowned at his friend; he was serious. “I need to know there are some good ones out there.”

  “Speak of the devil,” said Russ who caught sight of a sky blue Pontiac Le Mans, as it pulled up to the playground gate. “Here’s your chance. That’s my mom. C’mon.”

  “Wait, wait! What about Suzy?” asked Jason.

  “Sure, sure, c’mon.” Russ gathered up his stuff and headed to the door.

  “Can I go find Rachel?” asked Suzy. “She’ll want a lift too.”

  “Yeah, but hurry,” said Russ. Suzy ran off to find her friend. Rachel’s icy attitude toward Jason started to show signs of melting after Jason touched her psychically.

  Minutes later, Russ rushed out of the door into the storm with Suzy, Rachel, and Jason hot on his heels. He dove into the front seat while the others piled into the back; all soaked to their skin.

  “The more the merrier,” said the sweetest voice Jason ever heard. His heart melted, as he looked into smiling green eyes. Russell’s mother turned out to be as opposite to Lydia Dubois as dark is to light. Her dark auburn hair hung straight down wet from the rain. “So, I finally meet the infamous Jason Sutter. I’m Peg Wyatt.” She held out her hand over the back of the front seat. Jason shook it. The floral smell in the car was intoxicating. He inhaled, held his breath, and let it go slowly.

  “What is that smell,” he whispered.

  “Perfume,” said Suzy in Jason’s ear. “I don’t know which one. Something with roses maybe.” Jason didn’t care. He could not get enough of it and continued to breathe it in.

  “Now, you are?” asked Mrs. Wyatt energetically to the other two occupants in the rear seat. Suzy and Rachel introduced themselves and thanked her for the lift. Finished with the introductions, she turned around, started the engine, and headed to the Dubois house.

  “What?” asked Mrs. Wyatt. She looked down between her and Russ. “Ha! Everyone, this little bundle of joy whom I overlooked is my youngest, Patti.” A small hand shot up over the middle of the front seat.

  “So, Jason, did Russ mention he’s got his first game of the season coming up this weekend?” She concentrated on her driving, leaning forward. The lashing rain turned the windshield opaque. The wipers barely kept up.

  “No, he never mentioned it.” Jason glanced at his friend.

  “I just forgot.” Russ shrugged. “Ya know? There’s a lot goin’ on these days.”

  “What do you play?” asked Rachel.

  “Baseball. I’m the catcher.” Russ looked at Rachel who nodded. She understood what he was talking about. “You keep up with baseball?” He asked her, surprised.

  “Had to in my family. My dad was a nut about…” Rachel spoke the last words in a whisper; then looked down. She swiped away imagined crumbs on her plaid skirt.

  “Oh,” said Suzy excited, filling the uncomfortable silence. “Can we go watch you play?”

  “It will be up to Mrs. Dubois,” chimed Mrs. Wyatt before Russ could answer. “I will talk to her and see. Would you want to come too Rachel? I know Jason wants to.”

  “You bet,” said Jason. He wondered what had caused Rachel to become silent, and if she was still mad at him.

  “Yes, Mrs. Wyatt. I would love to go.” Any reason to get away from the house was a good thing. She turned to Suzy and smiled. Looking at Jason, her smile fell. Jason mouthed the words, “I’m sorry”. She thought for a moment. Finally she nodded and accepted his apology.

  “There you go,” said Russ’s mother. She reached over and patted his knee, “a cheering section just for you, other than Dad and me.” She laughed and everyone laughed with her. The mood in the car was light and full of cheer. The lightness faded after they reached the Dubois house. The kids dashed from the backseat into the house. On the porch Jason turned and waved goodbye. Happy that Russ had such a wonderful mother and family, Jason felt lost and sad. He could only watch but not reach what he wanted so much. No one noticed the single tear, as it escaped down his cheek.

  * * *

  In an office over a drug store on Main Street, Robert Sylvester, Sly Dog to his business associates, spoke into the phone. He ran his fingers through his blond-brown hair and pulled it back off his aviator glasses. His index finger scratched the beginnings of a moustache which never grew fuller.

  “Yeah, Yeah, I’ve heard all this before,” said Sly who shook his head. He stood and gazed down on the street below his office and watched the rain come down. His string bean physique made him look weak especially in his signature outfit, tight blue jeans with a business, white shirt and bright, red tie. He used this misdirection to his advantage. Sly, thirty-eight years old, was all muscle and looked much younger. On more than one occasion a competitor wound up bleeding and unconscious in an alley because he saw Sly as an easy target.

  “We need to meet. My client is disappointed. Ya know what I mean?” Sly turned back to the desk and leaned over to pick up a pencil. He tapped it on the desk’s edge.

  “What can I do?” whined Frank.

  Sly did not like Frank Dubois. He appreciated Lydia. A smile crossed his face; he remembered the first time she approached him. After an acquittal on drug charges where the cops got sloppy with the evidence, Sly exited the courthouse where he stumbled into this frightening woman. She was all business dressed like one of his meaner, grammar school teachers in a dark blue dress with her hair pulled back hard. He had to admit this woman knew her stuff. She quoted chapter and verse on Sly’s record, where he lived and worked. There was something about her that drew him and repelled him at the same time.

  “Look, fool,” she said, looking evil, “I’ve got prescription drugs to unload and you got access to the market.”

  “Why should I talk to you?” He started to walk away. Sly got the feeling that this hellion was wired; she worked for the cops.

  “Don’t be stupid.” She glared at him. She read the situation clearly. “You aren’t worth the trouble to trap. Walk with me down to the corner.” She nodded in the direction she meant and spoke in a pleasant tone. “I’ve got a deal for you.”

  Sly followed her. He figured there might be something in it for him. The deal they cut that day lasted five years. There had been ups and downs in the flow of drugs but things worked out for Lydia in Sly’s world. No one got rich but the income was steady and it all remained under the radar so the police never became an issue. Lydia was lucky.

  “The kids are better,” said Frank. His whine brought Sly back from his reverie. “The damn doctors won’t write the prescriptions the way we want.” Frank Dubois stood in his living room and tried to explain why the pill count came in shy of expectations.

  “Well then, Franky, we have a problem.” Sly twirled the pencil through his fingers. In the last few months he dealt more with Frank. He had a bad feeling about this guy.

  “Got a repulsive streak of boy scout in him,” he complained to Lydia years earlier.

  “Don’t worry about him. Worry about me,” she said. “He does what he’s told.” Sly followed her lead. He hoped Lydia’s luck would hold up. The numbers, the pill counts, however, did not lie.

  Sly leaned against the edge of the desk.

  “Ya don’t want a visit from those guys in Philly.” Sly built a small but successful illegal prescription drug exchange with heavy hitter drug lords in Philadelphia. The big boys did not pay much attention to the small time hoods, if they delivered in cash or contraba
nd to their schedule. A delivery was due and Dubois was short on the contraband.

  “OK.” Frank thought fast; his hand rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ve done a kickback before to ease the situation. Will that do?”

  “Might. Don’t know.” Sly sat in his chair; then tossed the pencil onto the desk. “At the next exchange I’ll give you their direction. Where and when?”

  When Frank hung up, the meeting arrangements were set. He felt sick. Frank and Lydia’s goldmine began to look more like an empty pit with dangers lurking in the shadows. He wanted out. Lydia would not hear of it. He feared this whole situation could get very ugly.

  Chapter 3

  Jason sat in Dr. Lipton’s waiting room. It’s show time, he fretted.

  Lydia was always clear about what she wanted. When it became obvious that he did not need his mind numbing medication, Lydia set him straight. It was the morning he first met Suzy.

  “Feeling well enough for school are you?” Lydia spoke the words, as though it was a great inconvenience.

  “Yeah.” Jason’s head twitched slightly. Lydia wanted something. Jason sat on the steps of the back porch where he and Suzy talked about his learning to read.

  “We need to make a deal.” Lydia set her cup of coffee on the wooden railing. “Frank and I will make sure you get what you want, if you do what we ask.”

  “What do you want me to do?” He turned and looked up at her. His first impulse was to run and hide. He remained still; his expression remained calm.

  “Your meds are almost gone. Seems like, you don’ need them anymore. How that’s come about, I guess, will remain a mystery. The shrink doctor wants to see you before he renews the prescription. You want school. We want the meds.” She folded her arms and waited.