Corrupted (6 page)

“Patience is a good thing.” Bennie took her pad from her messenger bag and set it in front of her. “Why don't you tell me what happened, with Richie?”

Jason's face changed immediately, as if a protective mask had just descended over his young features. “I don't even know, it was just weird.”

“How so?” Bennie left her ballpoint pen on her pad, so he would feel encouraged to talk.

“I mean, they tease me, Richie always teases me, because well, you know.” Jason flushed, pursing his lips. “I'm kind of husky, and also because of my teeth, like, I have these teeth in front they say I'm like a vampire.”

“You don't look like a vampire.”

“There's this movie called
Dracula 2000
and they say
I'm Dracula 2000
and they thought that was funny. They said they saw it but they're liars because they can't see it, it's rated R.”

Bennie's heart went out to him. “That must be tough, getting teased like that.”

“I mean, a lot of kids get teased, so, like, I try not to let it bother me.” Jason looked down at the figurine in his hands. “That's what my mom used to say, like, pretend you're like a duck and it just rolls off your back.”

“And what happened, at lunch? What made it different?”

“They were just calling me names, like they always do. ‘Fat Boy.' ‘Tank.' ‘Blubber Boy.' ‘Albino Gorilla,' every day they got a new name. ‘Bootylicious,' was last week, on account of the song.” Jason seemed to deflate, his soft shoulders slumping.

“Did Richie hit you or something?”

“No.”

“You can tell me. I won't even tell your dad, if you don't want me to.”

“You know, Richie starts calling me Bootylicious and then everybody joins in, that's what it's like.” Jason shrugged.

“Isn't there a monitor in the cafeteria? Or somebody who can stop it?”

“Yes, but she doesn't see.” Jason started fiddling with the figurine again. “The cool thing about Legos is that you can
do
things with them, like you can make them shoot the catapult, and they joust, and there's even a dragon minifig.”

“What's a minifig?”

“This is a minifig.” Jason brightened, holding up the figurine. “This is King Leo, it's a new theme they have, Knights' Kingdom. It's, like, a big war, and King Leo is a good king and they're lion knights.”

“Cool,” Bennie said, willing to take the conversational detour only because Jason brightened again.

“The way it works is the knights have to protect the castle against Cedric the Bull. And they have to fight for Queen Leonora and Princess Storm, even though Princess Storm is a warrior and she fights, but not as much as King Leo or Richard the Strong.” Jason picked up a small plastic figure with a blue helmet. “This minifig is Richard the Strong. He helps King Leo defend the castle and he's really a good guy. Cedric the Bull is the
worst,
and they have a story, that's what I like about it, too.”

“What's the story?”

“Well, Cedric is, like, the son of a king, but he got cheated out of his land because there were, like, thirteen sons, and he is really, like,
angry
about it, and that's why he wants the land that belongs to King Leo.”

Bennie thought it sounded like King Lear, but maybe that was reading too much into plastic toys.

“And Cedric has a guy who helps him named Weasel, who knows all about traps, and Gilbert the Bad.”

“I'm guessing Gilbert the Bad is bad.”

“Duh, right?” Jason rolled his eyes. “But Gilbert the Bad is really smart, and Boris, too, those are the bad guys. Like a lot of people think Legos are just for little kids, but they're really not. The coolest is Richard the Strong.” Jason wiggled the figure. “He figures things out, protects the Queen and the Princess. He, like,
helps
. He's just, like a good guy but he's not the main guy, he's like strong. He like, stands up for justice.”

“Maybe he'll be a lawyer someday.”

“Ha!” Jason giggled, an adorably carefree sound, incongruous in the grim surroundings. “He's already better than a lawyer.”

“Nothing's better than a lawyer.”

“What? No way, he's, like,
awesome
! Like if anybody does or says anything bad about Queen Leonora or Princess Storm, he'll fight them!” Suddenly Jason's happiness evaporated.

“What, Jason? What's going on?”

“I guess that's, kind of, what was different, in the cafeteria.” Jason's eyes filmed, but he kept his gaze on the toy. “I was walking by with my tray, and Richie started saying bad things about … my
mom
.”

“Like what?” Bennie felt a pang. Her mother had been depressed, and as a child, Bennie remembered kids teasing her, the tall girl with the crazy mother.

“Richie said my mom was as big as a
house
, and that she was fat, then he told this joke, ‘how fat is your momma,' ‘when she sits around the house, she sits
around
the house.'”

“That's not funny.” Bennie was beginning to think that the problem with her practicing juvenile law wasn't the expertise, but the emotionality.

“Then he said, that's why my mom …
died
, that she got a heart attack because she was a big, fat
pig
.”

“Oh no.” Bennie couldn't imagine the cruelty of the words to the grieving boy. “What happened after Richie said that? Did you hit him?”

“No, I started, like, crying.” Jason kept his head down, his lower lip trembling. “I was trying not to, but I couldn't help it and then they started laughing harder, so then I dropped my tray and I shoved Richie, and he shoved me back.” Jason wiped his eyes with the palm of his hand. “Next thing I knew, I was on the ground and he was on top of me, and they called the police.”

“Did you tell the cops?”

“No.”

“The judge?”

“No, I was too scared. The courtroom was so big it looked like a castle!” Jason's glistening eyes went wide again, this time with fear. “And the judge was sitting on this big tall desk, way up high like a
king
, and he started yelling right away. He came to our assembly last year, he goes to all the schools and he tells them, if you make trouble or break the rules, I'm going to put you in juvie.”

Bennie wasn't completely surprised to hear that the judge had spoken at school, because the judiciary in Pennsylvania were elected instead of being chosen by merit selection. One of the unfortunate results of the antiquated system was that judges frequently spoke at schools, Rotary Clubs, and even farm shows, pandering like common politicians, instead of guardians of the law.

“Yeah, and then they just put me in handcuffs and they even put them around my
legs
.”

Bennie still couldn't wrap her mind around putting shackles on a seventh grader. In the Philadelphia criminal system, shackles weren't even used for accused murderers anymore.

“I felt like I was going into a
dungeon
.”

Bennie didn't interrupt him, but from the looks of the detention center, a dungeon would've been an upgrade.

“I couldn't even walk, and I felt so bad. They got me out and I didn't even get to say good-bye to my dad. He musta been embarrassed in front of his boss. All the people from his work, they came to my mom's funeral…” Jason's voice trailed off and he bit his lip. “I feel like I'm a bad kid, now.”

“No, you're a good kid—”

“But I'm in
jail
. They
lock
us in our rooms, and the other kids in here, they're
bad
kids. And they're
big
, they're all bigger than me. I'm the youngest. Even Richie is older than me.”

“Richie is here, too?” Bennie questioned the wisdom of sending a bully to the same detention center as his victim. With adult offenders, she could have asked for a separation order, requesting a court to assign them to two different prisons.

“Yes, he's on my hall.”

“Is he giving you a hard time?”

“Yes.” Jason shook his head, still facing down.

Bennie felt her blood boil. “Stay away from him. Try to avoid him, as best you can.”

“I'm going to be here, like, forever. I'm gonna miss
Christmas
.” Jason bit his lower lip hard, but it trembled nevertheless.

“I'm going to try my hardest to see what I can do about that. I'll be here tomorrow to talk to you and tell you what's going on.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Good, you hang in here.” Bennie collected her pen and legal pad, and slid them back into her messenger bag. “You're not too old a kid for me to hug, are you?”

“I guess not,” Jason answered, with a shaky smile. He got to his feet, and Bennie went over and gave him a hug, though she couldn't remember the last time she'd hugged a child. She couldn't deny a surprisingly maternal twinge she felt, especially when she realized that Jason was clinging to her, longer than necessary.

“You're gonna be okay, buddy,” Bennie said softly.

Praying she was right.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

Bennie drove along, the case weighing on her mind and heart. She hated seeing Jason in juvie and when she'd dropped Matthew off, she tried to reassure him without raising his hopes—or her own. Meanwhile, the snow was falling too hard for her windshield wipers to keep up. The radio was full of storm predictions, but she had one last thing to do. She stopped the car and cut the ignition in front of the house.

G
RUSINI
, read reflective letters stuck on the black mailbox. Matthew had given her the address, which was in Slocum Township, adjoining Rice Township to the west, but even more rural. Bennie grabbed her purse, got out of the car, and hurried through the snow to a narrow house of white clapboard. The porch ceiling sagged, and the glass housing of the fixture beside the door was missing, exposing its bare bulb and illuminated peeling paint of the façade. Saran Wrap had been duct-taped over the front window, but lights were on inside, coming through sheer curtains.

Bennie climbed onto the porch and pressed the doorbell, but didn't hear it ring, so it must have been broken. She opened the screen door and knocked hard, and after a moment or two, the front door was answered by a woman with short, dark brown hair and a weary smile.

“Yes?” she said loudly, to be heard over the background noise of children. She had a pretty, if lined face, with lively dark eyes, a strong, hawkish nose, and a broad mouth, and she was wiping her hands on a white sack dish towel. Her petite frame seemed lost in an oversized blue Nittany Lions sweatshirt, with jeans.

“Doreen Grusini? I'm Bennie Rosato, and I'm wondering if I could come in and talk—”

“No, I'm busy.” Doreen cut her off with a hand chop, holding the dish towel. “I'm fine with my religion and I gotta bake cookies for my son's school. Thanks for stopping by.”

“Doreen, I'm a lawyer, and I'm here about what happened with your son Richie and Jason Lefkavick.” Bennie fished in her wallet for her business card and handed it over. “I represent Jason, but the way I see it, the boys are in the same boat. Neither of them belongs in juvenile detention for a school fight.”

“Hmph.” Doreen arched an eyebrow, squinting to read the card in the light from the porch fixture, then looked up scowling. “You've got some nerve! Jason started it, you know. He shoved Richie for no reason.”

“I'm not here to argue with you, I'm hoping we can help the kids.”

“I don't need your help. My son wouldn't be in jail but for
your
client!”

“I'll just take fifteen minutes of your time—”

“I don't have fifteen minutes and I don't know what the point is.”

“It's just to talk about the boys, and see if we can figure out a way to—”

“Oh, I get it, you're looking for me to
hire
you, but I have news. There's no way in the world
that's
happening.” Doreen started to close the door.

“No, not at all, please.” Bennie stopped the door from closing. “The boys aren't against each other anymore, they're both against the prosecutor.
Please
, I'll take five minutes. Five minutes.”

“What kinda name is Bennie?” Doreen frowned.

“Short for Benedetta.”

“You're Italian?”

“Through and through.” Bennie could pander if it would help Jason.

“My ex was Italian, and I hate him.”

Arg.
“This is about your son, not your ex.”

“Well, all right then.” Doreen pocketed the card and opened the door. “Come in, you're letting in cold air.”

“Thank you, so much.” Bennie stepped inside the small house, looking around as Doreen closed the door behind them.

The children weren't in sight, but their noise reverberated through the walls. The living room was to the left and the kitchen to the right, the same layout as the Lefkavicks', but the two interiors couldn't have been more different; while the Lefkavick home was neat and orderly, albeit empty-feeling, the Grusinis' was vaguely chaotic, cluttered with children's toys, clothes, and games. The living room was stuffed with worn plaid furniture, but DVDs and video games lay open all over the brown rug next to joystick controllers, and ice-hockey sticks sat against the wall, with a pile of ice skates, black gloves, and helmets.

“Mommeeeee!” a child yelled, from upstairs. “He's hitting me! He's hitting me!”

“Don't make me come up there!” Doreen yelled toward the stairwell, and Bennie followed her into a toasty kitchen with sunny yellow walls. It was shaped like a cozy U, which ended in a rectangular wooden table on which a small TV played
Third Watch.
Shiny cookie sheets sat next to a large mixing bowl on the table, and the aroma of baking sugar cookies made her mouth water.