Jake spent some time alone in his room after his long talk that Saturday morning. He read a bit and played his guitar, coming down from the emotional ordeal that telling his story had been. He realized he did feel good, having shared some of his early life with Mr. Scott. He hadn’t shared all of it, of course, but some, certainly.
After lunch, Mr. Scott told Jake he was taking him to the mall. “I heard your story, even heard the things you didn’t say. Jake, you need stuff. Teenager stuff. Clothes, electronics. You don’t have any. You have a bare minimum or less of clothing and nothing else. So we need to go to the mall to get you outfitted.”
Jake balked. “I don’t need much. I’m used to not having anything, and I’m fine with it. Besides, have you looked at what things cost? It’s incredible. You can pay over a hundred bucks just for a pair of jeans! Jeans! I can get them for $5 at Goodwill or some other charity place and don’t even have to go to the trouble of ripping tears in them. They already have them!”
He grinned, showing he was trying to lighten the mood. Mr. Scott would have none of it. “You more or less said all your friends deserted you when you were homeless. I don’t want that to happen here. I want you to fit in. First impressions are important. Clothes are part of first impressions, a big part, so they’re important, too. But we’ll get other things besides clothes. You need things for your room. It shouldn’t look like you’re an overnight guest, all prepared for an easy exit the next day. I want you to put your stamp on your room, to really feel it’s yours when you walk into it. You’ll never feel this is your home if you don’t.”
“But who knows?” Jake rebutted. “Maybe I’ll get told the trial is next week and to head right back. You’d just be wasting your money.”
“Maybe, maybe not, and anyway, WITSEC is paying for some of it. Not a lot, not enough for a teenager—they don’t get involved with teenagers much—but some. I can afford the rest. I make a decent salary and don’t have much to spend it on. I’ll enjoy getting you set up. As for the trial, most trials, especially murder trials, usually take a lot of pretrial time for investigations and writs and subpoenas and discovery motions and venue arguments and jury impaneling and all sorts of things. You could be, probably will be, here for the entire school year. That’s what I’m expecting, and I don’t like the idea of you living with the thought in your mind each day that that’ll be your last day here. If your room looks like a motel room, that’ll encourage that kind of thinking.”
Mr. Scott could see Jake wasn’t buying into this. He thought Jake should be happy at the prospect of having a bunch of new clothes, of having someone help him out. Trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice, he lowered it and kept the tone
supportive. “Jake, there’s something else, isn’t there? Can you tell me why you’re not excited about this? Remember, we were going to be honest with each other.”
Jake grimaced. He dropped his eyes as he spoke. “I just don’t like to feel like I can’t get by on my own. I don’t like to feel beholden to anyone. I took care of myself for a long time. It feels . . . I don’t know . . . like I’m giving up on some of my independence if I start taking help. You’re not going to be around that long. If I start getting used to living like this, then what?”
“Ah. Okay, I can understand that. But look, you’ll be doing me a favor by letting me do something that’ll help you. I’ll feel good doing that. And you won’t owe me anything. You’ve had a lot of bad stuff in your life that you’ve managed very well. How about trying to let someone help you just because they want to? Not because you need it. I know someone being there for you hasn’t been part of your life for as long as you can remember. Maybe you can start to see what it’s like again. Now. Here.”
= = =
The mall was located on the edge of town. Mr. Scott pointed out a large building close to the center of town as they drove past it. “That’s the alternate high school for people who drop out and realize later they’d do better for themselves with at least a high school diploma. It’s for kids who had disciplinary problems at Prescott High—your and my school—and also for both kids and adults who are here as migrant workers. We have a lot of orchards here, and transient people come to pick the fruit. Some of them stay and need a different school environment than they’d get at Prescott. Classes can be tailored for them, and they can be taught in Spanish. ESL classes are a big thing there.”
Jake had been mostly silent during the ride through town. Mr. Scott had talked about various points of interest, and Jake had looked at them but just nodded when asked anything. Mr. Scott thought it was probably the emotional strain of talking about his past that had put him in a somber mood, or maybe he was fighting accepting the fact that he didn’t need to be entirely on his own for a time. Or something else; whatever it was, he was hoping the shopping trip would pull Jake out of it.
He was hoping for something else as well. He knew kids Jake’s age. He worked with them by the dozens every school day. He knew Jake had left things out when he was revealing his past, and he had the feeling there was something important, some vital part of his past he wasn’t sharing. He’d learned from experience to catch on when kids wanted to save something by the way they skated around it. Mr. Scott had no problem with privacy, with a kid not telling everything about himself. He was merely worried that whatever Jake was holding back might be something that could be a problem for him, something that would prevent him from opening himself up to the opportunity he had here, had now.
The boy was still too quiet, too reticent. He tended to pull into himself too frequently and shut the world out, just as he was doing now. Mr. Scott hoped as he got more comfortable in his new life, even if it were only to be for an abbreviated time, he would relax enough to enjoy fully what was available to him. That he’d make friends and live a normal teenage life. He felt Jake really needed that.
Jake was obviously smart. Even with the troubles he’d had, he still made excellent grades in school. Mr. Scott had his school transcript and, learning of Jake’s past, wondered how it was possible for him to have concentrated and performed as well as he had in school. It was hard to perform well in school when you were trying to survive outside it.
Mr. Scott instinctively liked the boy. Jake was damaged; it was easy to see this. He wasn’t animated enough, he was too cautious, and he overthought things. Mr. Scott, in his professional agency, helped kids that needed it; that was what he felt was his calling, and now a kid who needed a lot of help had fallen into his lap. He would go out of his way to smooth the road ahead for Jake. What the boy seemed to need more than anything was a steady home life where he could count on the person in charge, where he was loved and valued, and where he could grow. Mr. Scott could provide that.
= = =
Mr. Scott parked in the three-story parking structure at the mall, finally finding an empty spot on the top floor. It was a Saturday afternoon, and the mall seemed to be the most popular place in town. They walked to the elevator and took it one floor down. “The mall is on two floors,” he explained to Jake. “It’s a teen hangout place, especially on the weekends. What I think we should do is get off here on the second floor, then just walk around so you can see the layout, see where the various stores are, and get oriented. You can see what’s down on the first floor from up here as well, and then we’ll go down once we’ve done this level. Sound okay to you?”
Jake noticed how Mr. Scott allowed him to voice his opinion about most of the decisions he was making. Jake hadn’t been much involved in decisions when he was with an adult before and found it taxing to respond. He also recognized that what Mr. Scott was doing was a good thing, a good thing for him, and he promised himself he’d try to get with the program.
For his part, Mr. Scott noticed something about Jake as they strolled along. Jake was constantly scanning the people they passed, looking more at them than at the stores. He even spent time looking over the railing at the people on the lower floor.
Jake had a reason for this but didn’t voice it. He wasn’t any more accustomed to sharing his feelings than he was voicing his opinions.
They saw many groups of teenagers as they walked. Quite a few of them hailed Mr. Scott as he passed by. After this had happened again and again, Jake remarked, “You’re quite popular.”
“I’m one of the adults they see at the school who in no way is judging them. All I do is try to help them. They can see that. Besides which, most of the kids at school are good kids. And friendly.”
“Do they know you’re gay?” Jake asked, but softly enough he couldn’t be overheard.
“I really don’t know. I’ve never announced it at school. I guess if anyone thinks it may be the case, they’ve been polite enough not to ask.”
Mr. Scott noticed that as he was answering, Jake had turned away and was again scanning the crowd. It suddenly occurred to him why that might be. And he saw no reason not to talk about it.
“Jake,” he said, “I’ve seen how much attention you’ve been paying to all the people here. Is that because you think the guy you’re going to testify against might be here? That he might have learned where you are and come looking for you?”
Jake stopped and turned to Mr. Scott. “If he did, I’d want to know he was here. I’ve protected myself for a few years now. I’m not about to stop just because I was moved across the country. People know I’m here. People can be bought. It only makes sense to be observant.”
Mr. Scott was impressed. This kid certainly had more on his mind than most kids his age. Those boys worried about getting a date or getting a driver’s license. This kid worried about being killed and did what he could to protect himself.
They kept walking in silence while doing a tour of the second floor, then finally went down to the first floor. There, Mr. Scott pointed to a bench. It was out of the flow of traffic, and no one else was using it. They both sat down, and Mr. Scott turned to look at Jake.
“I just had an idea you might like. No one here other than Jeremy and I knows your name. We’ve already changed it from Derrick to Jacob to Jake, but that second change isn’t much of one. I see no reason we can’t call you something else. I can change your name in the school computer easily enough first thing Monday morning. Would that make you more comfortable?”
“Let me think about it,” Jake said, and they got off the bench and continued strolling.
= = =
Mr. Scott saw Jake continuing his obsessive scanning of the crowd. He’d hoped his name-change suggestion might make Jake feel safer, but then realized Jake wasn’t impetuous or spontaneous. He’d think about the suggestion, and when he’d decided, he’d tell Mr. Scott what his thinking was. But it wouldn’t happen without some thought.
Jake saw it before Mr. Scott did. Ahead of them, there was a small group of boys surrounding another boy, a smaller one. It looked to Jake like a large, in fact a very large boy was looming over the smaller boy, and then he saw it was Jeremy. And Jeremy looked scared.
Jake grabbed Mr. Scott’s arm and pointed, and Mr. Scott didn’t hesitate. He quickened his step and shouted from a distance, “Hey, what’s going on over there?”
Heads turned, and just that quickly, the crowd became individual boys, all headed in different directions, keeping their heads down and hoping not to be recognized. Jake saw the large boy standing over Jeremy hesitate, then give him a shove and walk off himself, not hurrying, just leaving, his stride looking combative, even angry.
There was another boy still there, also large but not as large as the intimidating one. He’d leaned down and helped Jeremy to his feet. He did that, said something, then looked briefly at Mr. Scott and Jake before hurrying away.
Jake only saw the boy for a moment, but he had a full-faced view just when the boy turned to look in his direction, and that one fleeting look stirred something in him. There was an instant response in Jake, one he hadn’t felt for a long time. He’d thought he was over this, over the feeling of attraction he felt for certain boys. He wasn’t happy to find he wasn’t. He wasn’t happy with how much this boy’s appearance affected him. He’d fought that feeling in the past. It was annoying knowing that he’d have to fight it again.
= = =
“What was all that?” Mr. Scott asked an obviously upset Jeremy.
“That was Grady Thoms, doing what he does. You showed up just in time.”
Jake said nothing, just watched. He could see how angry Mr. Scott was. He could see him trying hard to control it.
“Are you okay?” Mr. Scott put his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder, and Jake saw Jeremy relax. “Yes, sir. I’m okay.”
“Grady’s done this before?”
“He’s made a lot of comments, a lot of threats. He doesn’t like gay kids. This was the first time he actually touched me at all. I think having all those kids watching got him even angrier. But I’m okay.”
“Who’s Grady Thoms?” Jake asked.
He expected an answer from Mr. Scott, but Jeremy didn’t give the man a chance to speak. “He’s a football player. All-conference, probably all-state this year. Defensive tackle. He’s a senior this year and already had scholarship offers from some big schools, like Oklahoma and Alabama and Washington. He’s also the biggest asshole in school. Bully is too soft a word for him. But he gets away with it because the principal loves having a winning football team, and most of the kids he bullies are smart enough not to go to her about him.”
Mr. Scott broke in as Jeremy took a breath. “Actually, her boss, the superintendent of schools, is the one who likes to boast about the football team, and the principal does what she needs to do to keep her job, though she does like football, too. So far, Grady has just barely kept himself eligible for the football team, at least on school grounds. I can tell her what happened here today, but I’m pretty sure, since it didn’t happen on school grounds, it would have no effect at all.”
Jeremy said, “I just try to stay away from him. So far, I’ve seen him before he’s seen me. Today I was unlucky, not paying enough attention. But lucky, too, as you guys were here.”
Mr. Scott squeezed his shoulder, then dropped his hand and said, “Hey, you know what? We’re here today to buy Jake some stuff, and you’re just the guy we need to help. You’re much more a fashion expert than I am and can help choosing the clothes.”
“What, because I’m gay?” Jeremy tried hard to give him a nasty look, but he couldn’t help himself and broke into a laugh. “Sure, I’d love to help. Safer walking around with you two anyway, but shopping’s my thing. Not actually buying anything but seeing what I would buy if I had the money. Doing it for real will be fun.”
They shopped. Jake was happy to have Jeremy along because when Jeremy was around, no one else had to talk at all. Jeremy talked enough for all three of them. Silence seemed a challenge for him, one he was happy to meet. Jake still felt more comfortable not having to hold up his end of a conversation. He liked to listen, to be in the background, to watch what was going on without much involvement. Too, Jeremy did seem to have an eye for clothing, and at the end of the day, Jake was well outfitted for school and would be dressed very much like the few thousand other kids at Prescott High.
They shopped for a cellphone and a laptop, too. Jake was appalled at the money being spent. Mr. Scott just smiled.
Before leaving, Mr. Scott took Jake to a barbershop and got him a haircut. Jake balked at having much more than a trim, and Mr. Scott acquiesced easily. He liked seeing Jake speak up for what he wanted.
When they left, Mr. Scott drove Jeremy home first, and Jeremy reminded Jake he’d be by tomorrow to take him around the town.
= = =
The drive across the country was boring. Ricco kept himself awake by listening to the loudest, crappiest acid rock he could find on the radio coupled with frequent hits of meth. The cumulative effect was, when he’d reached Wyoming, he crashed and ended up sleeping 20 straight hours. When he woke, he was groggy, but got back in the car and again headed west.
He didn’t need to go all the way to the coast. Reston was closer to the Idaho border than the Pacific Ocean. He should be there in about 9 hours if he drove with a heavy foot, heading northwest now instead of dead west.
When he got to Missoula, however, he felt another need. He wasn’t accustomed to going this long without the attentions of a woman, and the meth he’d been taking had elevated his sexual urges past the point of tolerance. He decided finding a woman was more important than arriving in Reston so quickly. And after all, why be in such a rush? He had plenty of time. So he stopped, found a cheap motel, hit a seedy bar close by and found a woman who only charged $50. Another $50 the next morning was well spent, and the late departure didn’t bother him at all.
He smiled as he left the diner where he had breakfast and got back in the car. It was coming up on showtime, and he could feel the adrenaline. He had a name—Mildred had come through as expected. Derrick Winters was now Jake Delgado, and it would be easy enough to locate where he was staying in Reston because he’d been given detailed info on how to hack into the high school’s student database. This whole business shouldn’t take more than a day; then he could start back. He decided he would fly instead of driving back. This cross-country driving was crap. Bringing his rifle with a telescopic sight and his favorite handgun, though, had made it necessary. After the hit, he could either sell the car and the weapons or simply abandon them; either way, he’d be back in New York in only a few hours. Piece of cake.