W.A.R. 5-6 The Hero of the Day

W.A.R. Part Five - Retaliation

(2nd edition)

Chapter Six - The Hero of the Day

by Jeff Wilson

I woke up early on Saturday and left with my dad. I always wore my glasses when I worked with dad, because I once got some sawdust stuck under one of my contacts and that sucker burned all day. Dad drove us to a friend of his whose snow blower had stopped working. Dad stared at it for a while, and then asked if his friend had any old lawn mower parts. He rifled through the parts and found what he was looking for, then he had me take the snow blower apart and replaced some of its parts with the lawn mower parts. Then he had me put it back together for him. Sure enough when we were finished that snow blower worked better than it ever had. It was a job that my dad could have easily done himself before. But since the stroke, he was finding it more and more difficult to use some tools.

Dad's friend paid him some money and thanked us. On the way back to the truck, dad handed me the money.

"What's this for?" I asked.

"You did the work, you get the money," dad replied.

"But it was your idea."

Dad leaned on his cane. "Would you rather your mom threw it in tomorrow's collection plate?" he asked.

"No," I replied.

"Then shut up and take the damn money," dad insisted.

"Okay," I answered. I didn't argue with him after that. I wondered just how often dad was hiding money from mom so she wouldn't `tithe' it to the church. We continued around the neighborhood for most of the afternoon, doing the kind of jobs for people that they had long forgotten how to do for themselves. Sometimes dad would tell me exactly what to do, other times he would just tell me to take something apart or put it back together without telling me how to do it. I never had any problems though. I was actually becoming quite adept at fixing things.

By the end of the night, I had earned enough money to pay to fix Brett's laptop if Mike needed anything for his efforts. Sure, I knew that Dr. Reilly would probably going to give Brett the money to fix it, but I liked the idea that I could pay for it myself if I wanted to. I was exhausted at bedtime, and went right to sleep.

Sunday morning, mom insisted on dragging me back to that awful church again. Because I was feeling lazy, I didn't put my contacts in and just wore my glasses again and I slicked my hair down with water. It was just barely long enough to tie back if I wanted, but like I said, I felt like being lazy. Once again, I managed to sneak out of my assigned class and made my way toward the bathroom to hide. This time, though, I ran into Joey's dad in the hallway.

"Well hello, Mr. Roberts. Sneaking around the building to avoid class?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied.

"My son does the same thing. My Joey hasn't been causing you anymore trouble has he?"

"No," I lied. "We don't really talk much anymore."

"I suppose not," he replied. "McKenzie boys are notorious for holding grudges and for our tempers. It takes us a while to mellow. I guess you Roberts boys can relate to that. How's your father doing? We've all been praying for him since he had that stroke."

"He's a lot better now," I replied.

"Tough as nails, that's George Roberts! You're lucky to have a man like him for a father, Billy. I hope you appreciate him."

"Yeah," I replied. As he peered over his glasses at me, I couldn't help but notice how blue his eyes were. They were very warm and friendly, very handsome.

"Of course, you look a lot more like your mom than your dad. I bet you hear that a lot."

"Yes, sir," I replied again.

"Except for your eyes... You have your grandmother's eyes. Funny how things sort themselves out. You can tell a lot about a person by their eyes. My goodness, everybody just loved Helen Cunningham. I remember your grandmother used to throw the best Christmas Eve party in town. And your grandfather was so involved with the community. Fire chief, police deputy, you name it he was involved in it somehow. Everybody who was anybody knew Lloyd Cunningham around here. Your mother caused quite the scandal when she started going out with your dad. I'll bet you didn't know that."

"I've heard the stories," I laughed.

"I'll bet you haven't heard half of what your dad got into in those days. Legendary stuff... He could play poker with the devil himself and come out ahead. He was the best snooker player I've ever seen. But your mother is quite a woman. How she ever got him settled down is a miracle.

It was weird. Mr. McKenzie was so different from his jerk wad of a kid. Jack didn't talk to me like a kid, but like an adult. I really appreciated that. He'd always been a bit intimidating to me because he was so important in the community, but he wasn't acting like a bigshot. He was really laid back and even kind of cool for an adult. His voice was deep and kind of melodic, almost hypnotic. It was no wonder he was such a good lawyer. I could have listened to him talk all day.

He smiled kindly. If he'd have offered me candy and a van ride I'd have probably said yes at that point. I don't know what it was about him, but I found him very charming. Everybody did. He could have talked the pants off a nun, he was so smooth. I could barely remember why I hated his son so much.

He put his hand gently on my shoulder. "So, I heard you spent most of the summer with Jen Reilly and her boy."

"That's right," I said.

"It was real nice of Jen to take you in like that. I told your mom that we'd have taken you, but I'm sure you had a lot of fun with them. You know, I could never convince Jenny to sue ol' Tom DeBartolo after that accident that almost killed her boy. He bounced off that Cadillac like champ. Of course, it was the road that messed him up the most. Poor kid almost bled to death right there in the street. I still say they should sue Tom's estate."

"Yeah, I guess your wife and Jen were good friends?"

"Like sisters. Still to this day. I could tell you some stories, that's for sure!"

"Yeah, I saw the picture of your wedding at your house. I never realized how close you guys were."

"I guess you're at that age when you've started to realize that people your parents' age had lives before you were born, eh? Jenny was always a nice girl... Good family. More Catholic than the pope in those days. I guess she's still into all of that stuff. I met her when I moved to New York to go to college and met my wife. Of course, if you knew Heather you knew Jenny. They were always together. Her parents were amazing people. It's a real shame what happened to them. I was glad when she and little Anthony were able to move to Donora after what happened. She needed to be with friends. I'm glad Heather was here for her."

"Yeah... You know, you're one of the few people I've ever heard call Brett by his first name."

"Well, that name carries a lot of history."

"I'd like to hear it..." I said, but before the conversation could continue, Pastor Carl came walking down the hall.

"Jack! Just the man I was hoping to see!" Pastor Carl said in his usual jovial manner. "Hi Billy," he greeted me and shook my hand before turning his attention to Mr. McKenzie.

Before they left, Jack handed me his business card. "Let's pick up our conversation again sometime, Billy. You seem like the kind of boy who's could be destined for great things. I'd love to help you out along the way if I can."

While they talked, I took the opportunity to slip into the restroom. I briefly looked at Jack's card and noticed the name "O. Jonathan McKenzie, Esq." I put it in my pocket and started walking toward the stall when I heard the sound of what sounded like quiet sobbing. I instantly recognized the scent of Joey McKenzie. I'd know that fragrance anywhere. I quietly bent down to look under the stall and saw his feet there. I walked to the urinal to take care of business. The sobbing noises from the stall stopped as I started to pee. I saw his shadow move and then heard the sound of the toilet flushing. I was just finishing my piss when Joey emerged from the stall. I sighed and shook my limp ol' dick. I'd hoped to be done before he finished. Joey was the last person I wanted to see with my cock hanging out.

"Oh! Roberts..." Joey said with a start. "It's just you. What are you doing here?" His face was red and he was all sweaty and I could tell he'd been crying.

"Taking a piss, obviously. Why? You gonna try and rape me again?" I asked.

"Shut up," Joey snapped. "I'm not in the mood for your shit today."

"Sounded pretty intense in there," I said smugly as I zipped up my pants. "What were you bawling about?"

"How about you mind your own goddamn business, Billy?" Joey snarled.

"Sure thing... Except..." I smiled. For some reason I just had poke the hornet's nest with a stick.

"What?" Joey asked.

"Well I was just wondering if you raised the four hundred dollars for that abortion. Maybe that's what you were bawling about?"

Joey turned a shade of white to match the paint on the walls.

"Who told you about that?" he asked.

"You did, you idiot!" I replied. "You don't think I could figure out what you were talking about with Andy when you came in here last week and tried to rape me? By the way, is it normal for straight guys to try to get blow jobs from other guys? Or maybe you're not as straight as you thought?"

Joey grabbed me by the shirt and pushed me up against the wall. "You think I won't punch you in the face because you're wearing those stupid glasses? I didn't try to rape you. I was just messing with you. I wouldn't have really let you suck my dick. But if you tell anyone about what happened I'll break your fucking neck. How's that, faggot?"

"Afraid your daddy will find out about you?" I asked. "You should be afraid. Look what happened to Pastor Carl's kid. If they find out you got a girl pregnant... Well, that's bad enough. But then you tried to get a blowjob from a guy, in front of a witness. That's even worse. I've never understood why you straight guys think the way to torment us gay guys is by trying to make us do gay stuff. Kinda defeats the purpose, don't you think? But you know when Pastor Carl's not talking about gays he's talking about abortion. Do you think he'd understand your situation any more than he would his own son? You think your daddy is really that powerful?"

Joey let go of me and slammed his hand against the wall. Unlike me, he didn't use a fist, so all he did was make a loud noise instead of breaking his stupid hand. "You think you're so smart, don't you, Roberts."

"Yeah," I smiled devilishly. "I am smart."

"You think you've got something over me so I just leave you alone in exchange for you not telling my parents about what happened, right? Well, I'm not the only one with secrets, Roberts. I know for a fact that you're doing it with Reilly. You're a faggot, Billy. But I also know your mom doesn't have a clue. At least she doesn't want to know. What do you think it would do to her if she found out her little boy likes to suck dick? You think your life sucks now? What happens when she throws you out the back door rather than have a faggot like you living in her house?"

"You act like you think I give a shit," I replied.

"But you do," Joey replied. "I know you do. Everyone knows Reilly's a queer. He's never cared if people know about him. But you do, because you know what your mom will do when she finds out. And do you really think Reilly's mom is just going to let you live with them when she finds out you've been fucking her little baby? It's disgusting what you do to him. It's unnatural. I wouldn't mind destroying you, but Reilly's a good kid who deserves better than you do. Who do you think will really win in the end if you go to war with me? My dad is a lawyer who went to Harvard and he's the solicitor of the school board. Your dad is... wait let me think... Oh that's right! He's a nobody with a criminal record."

I scowled viciously at him. "Don't talk about my dad, you asshole. My dad is so much better than yours. We may not be rich and powerful, but at least we're not pretentious fucking pricks like you. But you know, Joey, even if you tell people about me, what difference would it make? Nobody really gives a crap about me. My mom and dad will get over it eventually, and once I graduate I'm getting as far away from this piece of shit town as I can anyway. So no one would care if you told. You're right, I'm just a queer and my family isn't very important. If I go down, nobody gets hurt but me. I'll get over it. I have absolutely nothing to lose. But you're this church's golden boy. You're the prince of Donora. What will happen to your family's reputation if they find out that you'd fuck anything that walks and that you're a baby murderer? Yeah, I'm sleeping with Brett. But you'll sleep with anything that has two legs and if anything comes of it, you just kill the result. I'll bet your mom thinks you take that stupid purity ring seriously. What'll it do to mommy and daddy if the church finds out about their son the baby-killer? If you go down your parents go down with you. And don't think I won't do it and enjoy it." I smirked in satisfaction. He may have pushed me against the wall, but I fought back even harder when I was cornered.

"You're a dick," Joey said.

"And you're an asshole," I replied. "You know what dicks do to assholes, Joey?"

"That's disgusting!" Joey scowled at me. He turned and walked to the door. "This isn't over, faggot. I can't wait to wipe that fucking grin off your face."

"Okay!" I laughed.

"You're dead, Billy!" Joey snapped. "You're fucking dead!" He stormed out the door and fled to hide behind his mommy's skirts in the sanctuary.

Church was more of the same. Pastor Carl was pulling all the right strings for his congregation. They hungrily absorbed his words and he eagerly accepted their money in the collection plate and their praise at the door. I managed to stay out of trouble by keeping my mouth closed for a change. After lunch, I counted down the minutes until it was time to meet Brett up in the woods.

He was late of course, as usual. He carried his broken laptop in a nice bag that his mom had bought for it. He was dressed in jeans and a New York Rangers jersey over a long sleeved t-shirt. The snow which we had made so much money from not so long ago was already melted away because it had been so warm the last few days. The ground was moist and squished beneath our feet.

We kissed when we met near the old stump. Brett had shaved, and I hadn't in about a week, so for once I actually was more scruffy than he was, but not by much. Brett had always been a good kisser, and he'd only gotten better with more practice. He would gently suck my bottom lip when we'd finish, as if holding on to our physical connection for as long as he could. I loved the way he always wanted to touch me in some way, whether we were playing video games and he'd sit right next to me, or the way he'd drape one of his feet over mine, or the way he'd snuggle against me when we'd sleep together. He just loved being close.

"You wore your glasses," he smiled.

"Yeah, so?" I asked.

"It's just that you don't wear them very often anymore. You usually only wear them at night. I really like them. They make you look all mature and stuff." He smiled his familiar smile.

"I was just too lazy to put my contacts in," I replied.

"You should wear them more often," Brett commented. "I think they look cool."

"Yeah, well you thought braces were cool too, so you might not be the best judge," I laughed.

"I do miss your braces... Well anyway, here it is," he said, showing me the laptop. "Did you call Mike?"

"Uhhhh..." I realized that in all the business of the weekend I'd forgotten.

Brett laughed. "I guess that means you didn't. First you're too lazy to put in your contacts, now you're forgetting to call people. I think I might be a bad influence on you."

"Tell me about it! You've always been good at getting me into trouble," I replied.

"I make your life less boring," Brett insisted. "Oh well, we can always go down and see if he's home."

We walked down the path from the top of the hill toward Dustin's house. I hadn't been down that path in quite a while. It was beginning to become overgrown and difficult to pass through.

"Hey, why didn't your mom ever sue the guy who hit you with their car?" I asked.

"You've been talking with Jack McKenzie," Brett laughed.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"I'm, like, the one who got away with him. He went to school with my mom years ago. Every single time I see him at Joey's house he always asks me about that stupid accident. `How's your shoulder? Feel any neck pain? You don't have any recurring headaches do you?' He even asked me about it the night of your birthday party a few years ago when he dropped off Joey. You two just abandoned me with him to go play Zelda. I swear, he doesn't even deal with accident cases, but he beat the fucking ambulance to the hospital."

"So you never thought about suing?" I asked.

"What were we going to do with more money?" he replied.

"I don't know. Pay doctor bills?" I answered.

"That's what insurance is for," Brett replied.

As we continued down the hill toward Mike's place, Brett grabbed hold of my hand. I gave him an odd look and he quickly pulled his hand away.

"You didn't have to stop," I said.

"No... It's cool. We're almost there."

"I didn't mind..."

"I know. It's cool," Brett said. "We're here, anyway." He stopped at the edge of the woods. "We didn't sue because it was my fault. The guy really should have sued me. I ran right into him."

"But you were just a kid," I said.

"Yeah, and I was just a brat too. Don't you remember how awful I was back then? Getting hit by that car changed my life. If that car hadn't hit me, who knows how bad I would have become. I would have been a total asshole by now if not for that accident. You get a different perspective on life when you smack your face off a windshield. I really thought I was going to die. I didn't even know I had that much blood in me. It only took a few seconds but I felt like I was up in the air forever. Then everything went black. I thought I was gonna die. Then I woke up and... Dude, I still can see that old man's face, scared out of his fucking mind, staring down at me bleeding all over the place... Thinking he'd just killed a kid... I ruined that guy's life. I... I don't want to talk about it. I'll have nightmares tonight just thinking about it. Please don't bring it up again, okay?"

"Okay," I replied.

We walked out of the woods and into Dustin's lawn. I never thought that it was possible for the place to become even more depressing and cluttered, but there it was. There was no grass, just weeds and dirt around various parts of vehicles and garbage. We walked quickly through the Smiths' yard and jumped the fence into Mike's yard. The fence was a new addition after the Mustang incident. Mike didn't want anything to do with Dustin after that. In fact, Mike had pretty much separated himself from all the kids in the neighborhood after that. I hadn't spoken to Mike in months. I knocked on the door and waited. I saw Mike peer out the window and then a few moments later the door opened up.

"Hey, boys," he said. He scanned the area around the house as he spoke.

"Hey, Mike," I replied. Mike looked about the same, with his wire-rim glasses and neat and tidy haircut, but now he had a goatee and he'd gained a little weight. It actually made him look a little healthier.

"Well, come on in," Mike said, holding the door for us. Brett and I walked inside and Mike led us to his workshop. "How's it hanging, Brett?" he asked.

"Low and heavy, like always, dude," Brett replied. "Haven't seen you out in the `Stang in a while."

"Yeah, well, you know how it is. You haven't been over to drive it in a while either," Mike replied.

"Wait, you two know each other?" I asked.

"I do have a life outside of you, Billy," Brett laughed. "Where do you think I get all my games from?"

"It's just that you've never mentioned it," I protested.

"Well, Dustin seemed to think I should shop somewhere else and that just made me all the more eager to come here. But I know you're Mr. Blabber-mouth and I knew you'd tell Dustin so I never told you. I didn't want to cause any trouble," Brett replied. "Besides, he's got a really cool car. You ever let Billy drive the `Stang?"

"You let him drive the Mustang?" I asked Mike crossly. "He doesn't even have a permit yet!"

"Yeah, well, I'm thinking that's probably why Dustin decided to take it actually," Mike replied. "I think he saw us and got jealous."

"Yeah, well his problems are none of my business. Anyway, I brought my laptop."

"Let me have a look at it," Mike said. "Is your mom really so bad you have to throw a computer at her?"

"Not `at' her. Near her," Brett replied.

"How did you know what happened?" I asked.

"He called and filled me in on what was going on," Mike replied.

I gave Brett an angry glare and he just shrugged his shoulders and laughed at me.

"Why'd you give me such a hassle about calling?" I asked.

"It tickled me," he replied.

"Okay, I can get it going again. The screen's not broken, so that's a good thing. You didn't rough it up too bad," Mike informed us. He worked quietly for a while and got the screen lit up again. Then he started working on getting everything in working order. "My god, Brett, how much porn do you have on this damn thing?" he asked, laughing.

Brett blushed. "The main thing is..."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it," Mike said.

"Take care of what?" I asked. I looked over Mike's shoulder but I couldn't see anything but a listing of files.

"Let's just say in the wrong hands there are certain files on my computer that would classify as underage pornography," Brett said sheepishly.

"Holy shit, Brett! What the fuck are you into?" I asked.

"Dude, relax. It's just pictures of me."

"What, naked pictures?" I asked.

"Naked, masturbating, ejaculating..." Brett replied. "Look, didn't you ever watch yourself jack off in a mirror before? Same thing, only I can watch it later if I want to. There's nothing wrong with it. I'm not hurting anybody or sending it out or anything. I'm the only one who'll ever see them."

"You and Mike, I guess, huh?"

"Oh no," Mike replied. "I won't see anything but a filename. As cute as your boyfriend is and as much as I'd enjoy seeing him naked, I have no desire to get into trouble. He's all yours."

"Hey, I'm not on there am I?" I asked.

"Dude, I would never take a naked picture of you without asking. Of course if you wanted to we could make a really hot porno."

"No thanks! If you want there to be naked pictures of yourself floating around, be my guest. I wouldn't want my junk on the internet for all to see. Hey Mike, you can leave the ones of Brett on there if you want to," I suggested.

We all laughed. Then, without warning, the front door of Mike's house burst open with a loud crash. We all jumped. The large frame of Dustin's mom filled the doorway.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!" she bellowed. I'd seen Mrs. Smith angry before, but this was something completely different. She was out-of-her-mind furious. She looked ready to kill everything in her way.

"Carol, is there something..."

Before Mike could even finish his sentence, Mrs. Smith grabbed a computer monitor and hurled it at Mike's head.

"Holy shit!" Mike yelped as he ducked out of the way. It bounced against the wall and crashed to the floor. "What the fuck are you doing?!?!?"

"I'm going to kill you, you fucking child molester!" Mrs. Smith shouted. "I'll rip your goddamn balls off!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Mike protested.

Mrs. Smith grabbed Brett's laptop from the counter where Mike had been working on it and sent it sailing at Mike. It shattered in an explosion of glass, metal, and plastic. So much for that... Mike cried out in terror. Mrs. Smith closed in on him. "You raped my son you son of a bitch and I'm going to kill you!"

"What are you talking about?" Mike asked, hiding behind a desk as another monitor sailed across the room. "Carol please! What's happened to Dustin?"

"I wanted to get to you before the cops do!" Mrs. Smith shouted. "I'm going to kill you for what you did to my son!"

"Carol please! What's going on?"

"Jail isn't good enough for you, so I'm going to send you to Hell!" Mrs. Smith grabbed hold of Mike's leg and yanked him from his hiding place. I don't even think she realized Brett and I were there. We stood there in stunned silence. "Dustin almost died because of you!"

"Carol, I swear, I have no idea what you're talking about. I've only been a friend to Dustin, nothing more."

"Enough bullshit! I know exactly what's been happening. I've been so fucking blind! I should have known. A guy like you, no girlfriend, no wife, just a faggot with a sick fascination with teenage boys." With Mike laying on his back, Mrs. Smith held his legs apart and kicked him right in the balls so hard I half expected Mike to cough them up.

Mike screamed in pain on the floor. "Carol, please! I don't know what Dustin said I did to him but..."

"Dustin didn't have to say anything!" Mrs. Smith screamed angrily. "Dustin almost died because of you!"

"Please! Just tell me what happened to him!" Mike pleaded.

"He's in the hospital! He could have bled to death! He could have died! He was afraid to tell me! He's been bleeding out his ass all week because of you! He's been taking aspirins for the pain and that made the bleeding even worse! You raped him with a goddamn broomstick last Saturday night! It tore through his rectum and he almost died! He could have died, you sickening evil son of a bitch! So now you're going to die!"

Mrs. Smith grabbed another monitor and held it over her head. She was going to smash Mike's head on the ground with it. At that point I was sure I was about to witness a murder.

"Carol, please! Let me explain!" Mike begged.

"I'm through listening to you!" Mrs. Smith roared with anger. "You've poisoned my son's mind and his body! I'm going to break every bone in your goddamned body! I don't want to hear anything from you but screams of pain."

Mike cowered in terror and held his hands up to shield his head from Mrs. Smith's wrath. But then...

"Maybe you should ask your husband what happened to Dustin."

Mrs. Smith stopped in her tracks. She set down the monitor and slowly turned around. Mike slipped away and he, Mrs. Smith and I all stared at Brett, who was now trembling and looked scared shitless as he moved forward to face Mrs. Smith.

"What did you say?" Mrs. Smith asked. She seemed to tower over Brett.

Brett stood his ground. "I said that you should ask your husband about what happened to Dustin on Saturday. He'll have a better idea than Mike will."

"What are you saying?" she asked. "Don't you lie to me, boy!"

"I'm not lying, Mrs. Smith. I was there. I saw what happened. I was there the night Dustin got attacked. I went there to buy pot. Dustin was there in the park when your husband picked him up. He beat the shit out of him right there in the park. He called him a nasty little whore and said he was going to show him what happens to faggots in his house. Then he threw him in the car and drove away. I don't know what happened after that, but that's what I saw."

"How dare you!" Mrs. Smith snapped. "How dare you accuse Frank like this?"

"I was there! I saw it happen! But what do I know? I'm not the neglectful bitch who married a child-abusing dickhead who raped his kid with a broomstick. Everybody knows he beats the shit out of Dustin. I guess when he found out what Dustin does for his cash he decided to fuck the shit out of him instead."

Mrs. Smith slapped Brett with such viciousness it lifted him off his feet. I never heard such a violent sound in my life. Mrs. Smith glared at him in furious anger. Her eyes almost bulged right out of her head and now I thought I was about to see my boyfriend get murdered.

Brett held his hand to his cheek. I knew him well enough to know he was bravely trying not to cry. "Ow... Okay, that really hurt," Brett said, his voice trembling. "I could sue you for assault if I wanted. But I won't, because as much as I hate Dustin he doesn't deserve what happened to him. No one does. I've had his screams in my head ever since it happened. I've never heard a kid scream like that. He was so scared, and it sounds like it was for a good reason too. He doesn't need you to beat up Mike. He needs you to listen to him for once. Because deep down you know what I'm saying is true. I've got no reason to defend Mike, and I've got no reason to help your stupid kid. You know how much we hate each other."

"Frank wouldn't do that."

"Wake up, you fucking bitch!" Brett shouted. "We all know what your husband's been doing to your family. He's a worthless drunk! He's been abusing Dustin and Amanda and you for years, and we've all stood around and done nothing because we're a bunch of fucking cowardly assholes. We've let you get abused and treated like shit by your husband and we've let your kids get beat up by their own father. Look what it turned Amanda into. Look what he's done to Dustin! Hell, look what he's done to you! Well I'm done being a fucking coward. I'm done pretending things are okay. I'm sorry I never said anything before this. It made me sick all week after what I saw. I wish that I could say that if I'd known Dustin was going to end up getting raped that I would have stood up that night. But I probably still wouldn't have said anything because I'm a fucking asshole. It kills me that I didn't stop what happened!"

"I can't believe you are saying these things, Brett," Mrs. Smith said. "Frank might not be perfect but he wouldn't do this."

"Well, I can't believe that you would continue to defend a guy who raped your son. You've already lost Amanda. She didn't even wait to graduate to get the hell out of that house. If you don't do something now, you'll lose Dustin too. If you destroy Mike, a guy who's been helping Dustin and bring him home to a house with the man who raped him, you'll lose Dustin forever."

Mrs. Smith sighed deeply and seemed to shrink before our eyes. She didn't say anything, she just slowly walked out the door that she'd kicked in and walked away. Mike rose to his feet and tried to close the door but it swung about halfway open again. He looked around the room and swore under his breath. "Jesus Christ... You okay, Brett?" Mike asked.

"No," Brett replied. His voice cracked and I could tell he was right on the edge of breaking into tears. He was white as a ghost except his cheek which was bright red from Mrs. Smith's slap. He exhaled a shaky breath and tried to keep his composure. "I need a fucking cigarette," he said.

Mike quickly ran to his kitchen and returned with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter for Brett. Brett took them both and almost dropped them because his hands were shaking so badly. He said he wanted to be alone for a minute, and then walked out the backdoor and sat on the steps. I started to help Mike clean up, but he told me to go be with Brett. I opened the door slowly and sat down on the steps beside him. He took a deep drag from his cigarette. His face was streaked with tears. His hands were still shaking and his eyes were red and swollen. His cheek was still red from being slapped. He sniffed and rubbed his eyes.

"You okay, dude?" I asked.

"No. I'm not okay," Brett replied. He looked away from me and took another drag on his cigarette. "I didn't want you to see me bawling like an asshole." He wiped his eyes, but new tears kept replacing the ones he'd wiped away.

"I've seen you cry before. It's okay," I replied. "Especially after what you did."

"What did I do, Billy? I just blew up Dustin's family."

"You did the right thing, Brett! You did what we all should have done a long time ago."

"You're not mad at me for being in the park to buy weed? I meant to tell you."

I sighed. "I can't say I'm thrilled about it. How many times have you been back since you said you quit?"

"Honestly, just this once because I was really stressed out. I was really mad that night because of my mom and my birthday and all. I just needed something to make me feel better. I never said anything because I knew you'd be mad at me. I didn't even buy anything after what I saw," Brett explained. He leaned into my chest and I put my arm over his shoulders. "Frank beat the shit out of him, Billy. It was horrible. I've never seen anything like it. Dustin was screaming for help and I just stood there hiding and let it happen... I didn't know he was going to rape him, Billy... How could I have known? I never imagined... God, I let that poor kid get raped. I just stood there and watched him get dragged away. I can't even sleep without seeing it over and over again. I haven't slept in a week."

"I understand. Under the circumstances I'd be a real jerk not to forgive you for wanting to buy weed after what you just did. You're a hero."

"Hero?" Brett snapped. "I'm no fucking hero! Billy, we've known for years about Dustin and Amanda being abused for years! I fucking picked on him about it, remember? I told him I was glad he was getting abused. Those words haunt me, Billy. A hero would have said something right away. A hero would have stopped this from happening. I let him get raped while I just stood there like an asshole. I should have said something, but I was scared."

"Well, at least it's over now." I soothed.

"Like hell it's over." Brett replied. "This is gonna get really bad. Dustin's going to kill me when he finds out. I'm fucked, dude! If he finds out that it was me who told..."

From Dustin's house, the sound of breaking glass and yelling echoed across the yard.

"I am so fucked!" Brett said hopelessly.

Looks like Brett came through to help Dustin. I wonder how Dustin will feel about all this?

Any thoughts? I'd love to hear them! You can reach me at jkwsquirrel@yahoo.com

Next time: The Boiler Room Incident