Souls in Peril (52 page)

He found it under a pair of jeans. Grabbing the pen, he stomped out into the living room.
Mel had left already. But
Tim lay across the couch watching
T
he Three Stooges
, pants unbuttoned, belt dangling halfway to the floor.

“You
’
d better hurry, fat boy, or you
’
re going to miss the bus
.
” Tim didn
’
t bother looking away from the TV.

“Why aren
’
t you going to work?”

“Me and my boss had a little misunderstanding the other day. The jerk fired me. I
’
m going to talk to a lawyer. I don
’
t think he can do that without a good reason.” He scratched himself.

Max rolled his eyes. “Here.” He tossed the pen. It landed with a small thu
mp
on Tim
’
s chest. He sat up, muting the volume on the TV.

“Well, lookie here. You found my pen. Took you long enough.” Max noticed a small tic
k
along Tim
’
s jaw.

“I remember
everything
. Everything except why. Why is that pen so important to you? It
’
s not like it cost you anything.”

Tim carelessly tossed the pen onto the coffee table. “It
’
s not the pen, boy. It
’
s the fact that you need to be taught responsibility. You took my pen to do your homework, promising me you
’
d
return it, and you didn
’
t.” He stood up. “Remember the day before the accident? Your mom asked you to do the dishes, but you locked yourself away in that room of yours writing stupid stories instead. That night, after working a twelve hour shift, she had to clean the kitchen. When she asked you why you didn
’
t do it, you claimed you
forgot.
You didn
’
t forget. You
’
re a lazy, fat lump.”

Max suspected
he
did forget, if
JD
were
anything
like
him. He remembered a time last spring when his dad told him he wanted the grass mowed before it started raining. Max promised him he would
after
half an hour in the batting cages at the local sports park. Three hours later, the rain forced him out of the batting cages, and only then did he remember promising to mow the grass. Max got grounded for a week. He didn
’
t get beat to the point of needing to go the ER.

“Now that I
’
m going to be your dad, things are going to be different around here. When you
’
re told to do something, you
’
ll do it.” Tim caressed his dangling belt. “Do you understand?”

“I knew you were lying when you said you wouldn
’
t hit me again.” Max said defiantly. “You
’
re an abuser. A sick, twisted bully.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” Tim chuckled.

“Go to the police. I
’
m sure they
’
ll be interested to hear the truth about the accident.”

Tim laughed. “You suffered a head injury and claimed not to remember the accident, stupid. They
’
ll just think you are confused. Anyway, I have friends who will swear to their graves I was with them that day.”

“Well, we
’
ll let the police work that all out, I guess.
And
I
’
m sure Mel will be interested in the truth about the beating that day
,
” Max turned to go back to his room. He heard a swooshing sound right before a sharp pain dug across his bare back. He spun around. Tim stood with his belt in his hand, ready to swing again.
To
keep from being hit in the face
, Max wheeled back around as the belt came at him.
Again, the
buckle dug into the skin on his back.

“Don
’
t you
ever
call your mother by her first name, fat boy. That
’
s very disrespectful.” Tim hit him again.

Max had enough
. JD, don
’
t let him do this to you. Fight back. You
’
re bigger than this weasel. The police will listen to you. The marks on your back are all the proof you
’
ll need.

Max smiled as JD
took control
. He
’
d
finally
reached his limit. When Tim tried hitting him a fourth time,
he
caught the belt mid-swi
n
g and jerked it out of Tim
’
s hand, tossing it to the floor
.
Tim stumbled forward. JD took the opportunity to punch him square on the jaw. He didn
’
t have a lot of skill when it came to fighting, but he did have girth on his side.

Tim flew backwards into the wall, sliding down to the floor. Max fought the urge to jump up and shout
yes!
He
st
rutted
up to him and spit out, “Don
’
t
ever
touch me or my mother again. And yes, I am calling the police,” he added. Max wheeled around and stomp
ed
toward his room.

“You go ahead and do that, fat boy, and I
’
ll make sure to tell them all about your mother and her nasty little side business. Cops don
’
t look to
o
highly on drug dealers.” He stood,
folding his arms triumphantly.

“My mom doesn
’
t sell drugs,” Max said, unsure of where Tim was going with this.

“You know that and I know that, but the police don
’
t, and more importantly
,
social services do
esn
’
t. They
’
ll rip you out of here so fast you won
’
t know what hit you. That means you
’
ll be sitting in a foster home for a good long time until they work it all out. And you know the
government, they don
’
t do anything fast.” Tim picked up the discarded belt and fed it through the loops of his pants.
Max
di
dn
’
t understand why Tim thought he held the trump card, until JD started shaking.

“That
’
s right, fat boy. I know all about your fear of going into foster care. Your mom told me about what happened five years ago when she lost her job and couldn
’
t find one for months. She considered putting you in foster care if she lost
her
apartment. She said you threw up for two days you were so scared. Fortunately for you
,
she found a job the next week. Too bad. A nice, strict foster home would have made a man
out
of you.” Tim stood triumphant.

Max knew it
,
too. JD was a mess, though he admired the fact that he didn
’
t let on to Tim how he felt.
“I mean it. Keep your hands off me and my mom,” was all Max could muster without his voice breaking. He went in his room, putting on some clean clothes, having to pass on
the shower or miss the bus.

He ran out the door and to the bus stop, praying Greg had dropped off the face of the planet. JD was in no condition for the gauntlet today; his
nerves were
a
frazzled
mess. F
or the first time ever
,
Max battl
ed back
his own
encroaching fear. JD now walked a knife’s edge. Too much had happened in a short period of time. Max panicked. He tried a pep talk, but JD didn’t hear a single word.

Nancy sat next to him, going on and on about Izzy
’
s funeral, adding to JD
’
s internal mayhem. He gave her a quick
“S
ee ya later
,”
and darted
off the bus as soon as they got to school
.

He went straight to PE
,
setting
his gym clothes
next to him on the bench as he put his backpack in the locker.

“Did you hear the news?” Jeff
came up to him,
planting a foot on the bench.

Now what?
Max didn
’
t want to ask, but saw no way out of it. “Nope,” he said, pulling off his red t-shirt.

“Nate Stackman
’
s dead.”

Max
’
s mouth dropped. “How? When?”

“
You remember
his dad
refused to bail him out of jail, right?” Max nodded.
“Turns out
the idea didn
’
t sit well with his mother, so she bailed him out yesterday morning, telling him he had to stay away from his dad. But he didn
’
t listen.” Jeff shook his head. “Not very bright, if you ask me. Anyway. He went over to his parent
’
s house and got in a fight with his dad. I don
’
t know all the details, but somehow Nate fell and hit his head on the fireplace mantel. It killed him. And his dad
’
s been arrested.”

“I can
’
t believe it.” Max folded his shirt and turned to slip it in his locker.

“Who did that to you?” Jeff demanded.

Max wheeled around. Worrying about JD
’
s state of mind, he
’
d forgotten about the marks on his back from Tim. “I fell down some steps yesterday. Looks worse than it is.” He grabbed his PE shirt and pulled it on.

“Those are fresh marks, JD. They
’
re still bright red. Did someone on the bus hit you?”

“No.” Max let out a breath.
Time to reach out, JD.
Despite the internal protest, Max said, “
Alright
, my mom is dating this loser. He went nuts on me this morning, but I got it under control. It won
’
t happen again.”
Now we have a witness, and if Tim does hit you again, Jeff can verify your story. Relax. This is a good thing.

“I
’
m calling the police,” Jeff said, visibly shaken.

“No.
N
o police. They
’
ll send me to a foster home. Please,” Max pleaded, surprised at Jeff
’
s reaction.

“JD, do you want to end up like Nate?”

“Please, as my friend, I
’
m begging you. Don
’
t call the police,” Max pleaded.
Is this ever going to end?

Coach stuck his head out the office door and said, “Jeff, I need to see you, please,”
and went
back inside.

Max grabbed his arm. “Promise you won
’
t say anything.” Jeff glared at him for a moment, and then nodded a short curt nod before walking to the office. Max slipped off his shoes and jeans, putting them in his locker
, n
ow shaking so badly he had to sit down to put on his gym shorts.

Trusting Jeff is good. Relax
.
You have an ally now. We
’
ll get a few more people and nail Tim. He
’
ll be so scared he
’
ll never touch you again.

As Max quickly tied his tennis shoes, Coach came over to him. “Son, I need to talk to you.” Max
’
s stomach
tightened
at the grim tone in his voice. He followed him to the office and quietly shut the door. Jeff stood next to the desk, kicking at a nonexistent something on the floor. Coach joined him, sitting on the corner of his desk and folding his arms.

“Would you mind lifting your shirt, please?” All-out fear choked JD. Of every emotion Max
’
d experienced helping JD, fear was the only one he hadn
’
t been able to control yet. Right here, right now was no exception. JD eyed the door, calculating how fast he could get out and away from the locker room.