Unsung Requiem

by C. L. Stone

  “Juvenile facilities are already private,” Mr. Perkins said.

  “You know as well as I do, they are not. And the judge is making this special case only because he is already famous and this would cause problems, for him and other children at their facility. But at this alternative location, he’s taken care of, and completely out of view of the public at all times, even when doing his community service.”

  And she was interested in it again but there was doubt. “For six months? I’d have to check with his school.”

  “Yes, the academy he attends. I’ve already spoken with them at length. I can make sure he gets homework sent in quietly. He, unfortunately, couldn’t attend the concerts.”

  “I’m not sure he’d be very welcome at the moment,” his mother said defeatedly.

  “And when he’s finished, his school could actually take him in full time instead of having him stay home. They’ve alerted me he’d be expelled if it weren’t that he was otherwise an excellent student. They’d let him finish his school term if he’ll be under their constant watch, which means staying on campus. Again, he’d be out of the way of the media.”

  “So you’re saying he’ll be away until he graduates?” his mother asked, although in a very dark tone.

  Mr. Buble eased himself back just a little. “It’s a decision Victor might need to make.” He looked directly at him this time. “Because right now, you’ve left a lot of people very disappointed. But you’re young, and it’s not too late.”

  “I could talk with the judge still,” Mr. Perkins said. “It might do some good if Victor is seen doing customer service for a while. They’ll see he is trying to redeem himself.”

  “Maybe,” Mr. Buble said. “If he’s compliant, if he works hard, he could, maybe, get the media attention to see some sympathy. If nothing else goes wrong.”

  That bit of doubt, the hesitation there, it caused Victor’s mother to shake her head. “He can’t be relied upon.”

  Mr. Buble offered a sympathetic smile. “In our facility, he won’t be given much chance to do otherwise.”

  This seemed to appeal to her.

  She was willing to let him get locked away into a facility.

  She didn’t trust him. Her own son. She’d send him off...

  Not that he didn’t want this. He was just miffed that his mother would rather send him off than risk anything further. Since she couldn’t drug him, she was tempted by this. Anything to save the reputation. Anything to prevent further damage.

  Even now, while she sat there, her eyes, the expressive way she had of making one feel small and insignificant at times, the way she looked at him. She hated this, but if he wouldn’t allow her to take him to Europe, it was a better answer than risking a trial.

  “Maybe after a few months,” she said, “they’ll forget.”

  “I’ve seen stories where teenagers are sent off to a different school, and then come back to redeem themselves later,” Mr. Perkins said. “Plenty of teenagers are wild in their youth, and then return to bright futures.”

  “There would be plenty of options,” Mr. Buble said. He smiled, this time genuinely, at Victor. “You’d have a choice. To return, or to keep under the radar. No one would think worse of you for doing either after a couple of years.”

  “And your mother would have all the empathy for her situation, and for doing the right thing by her child,” Mr. Perkins offered. “Making her child seek therapy, to save him from himself. The grieving mother...”

  They were pushing her to this. Mr. Perkins didn’t know this is what Victor wanted. His mother and the old lawyer just assumed they were brushing the incident under the carpet.

  Falling for the same ‘we’ll take care of the problem’ pitch the Academy always offered to parents.

  This was going better than expected. Sometimes it took a few tries.

  It just showed how much his mother was wanting to hide any problems... him being a problem.

  His mother hesitated for a minute.

  He needed to push her.

  “I don’t want to,” he mumbled, although he sounded defeated, tired.

  He was taking a risk.

  At his resistance, her eyes flashed. “You should accept what you’re given. You had your chance.”

  Once more, he tried, also faking resistance, “If I go, I’ll never see Sang. She might break up with me.”

  That sealed his mother’s interest in the entire offer. “You’ll go through much worse if you don’t.”

  He didn’t push again, he just made it look like he resisted, which drove her to agreeing.

  Within minutes, Mr. Buble was giving out paperwork to both Mr. Perkins and his mother to read over and to sign. Decisions were made: Victor could collect anything sentimental or clothing that he might be comfortable in, granted by his mother.

  He was going away. Possibly forever.

  ♥♥♥

  His mother actually went with him to his room. She monitored while he took just one small bag this time, where he threw in clothes, but he didn’t care because he didn’t think he wanted to wear his old clothes again.

  Not anymore.

  He wished she wasn’t standing by. He wanted to take a moment. To feel like he was really letting go this time. Before, when he was packing a trunk, he was angry. This time, he was saying goodbye.

  But there was nothing to say goodbye to. Maybe the piano.

  He went to it. He clearly couldn’t take it.

  But the music, the sheets that had been scattered. He picked them up.

  “The maid can tidy after you are gone,” his mother offered.

  “I thought I might take it with me,” he said, tucking some pages of the music he had written down into his bag.

  She pressed her lips tight together, a motion she did when she held back.

  Always holding back.

  “What?” he asked. He wanted her to talk. He wanted to know. Did she even care he was going?

  She said nothing. She wasn’t going to say.

  “Where’s Dad?” He realized suddenly he wasn’t even here for any of it.

  She very slightly shrugged her shoulders. “I honestly don’t know.”

  “You... don’t know?”

  “He left before I ever got word about what happened to you. Packed a bag and left.” She breathed in sharply. “He’ll be back.”

  Victor wasn’t too sure. Maybe he listened.

  Maybe, after some time by herself, maybe she’d see, they weren’t the answer to whatever she was looking for.

  Maybe she wouldn’t rely on others to hold to her own ideals of reputation and place in society.

  And Victor could make his own decisions.

  ~A~

  Sipario

  (Curtain)

  The large brick structure looming just off Broad Street in downtown Charleston was... in a word... perfect. At least in pictures.

  Mr. Buble and Victor stood just outside the block of homes... condos? Townhomes? Was there a difference between those? Victor wasn’t sure the term. It was previously one large house, broken up into four units and had been rented out, until the two in the middle went up for sale.

  Three bedrooms were inside each unit but connected by a large attic space that they could be permitted to build into.

  They waited together on Broad Street, on the sidewalk, looking at the dark brown brick and the small steps that went up to what would have been the front door to the main part of the house. Next to it, a sign with red printed letters: For Sale. The unit nearby had a similar sign.

  “I wouldn’t have thought to look for two together,” Victor said.

  “It just happened to come up,” Mr. Buble said. He smiled at Victor. “Sometimes, that’s how it goes. We got lucky.”

  “It’s still a lot of money,” Victor said. “For both. In this area...”

  “An investment,” Mr. Buble said. “The money isn’t gone. You can still record it within the Academy as a positive, not a negative, for whatever the
value... including future value as prices increase.”

  The location was ideal. They were blocks from downtown Charleston and the Academy hospital. While they’d be a long way from the Ashley Waters High School that still needed their help, the location had a lot of potential, especially for the future.

  Victor touched the bridge of his nose, where it had broken. A bandage covered it still, mostly to cover the unsightly bruising. His hair had changed, shorter now, and a slightly different color. He wore makeup. His face looked different in the mirror.

  Walking around looking completely different than he was used to. Gabriel was an artist, but it was still weird to think about.

  Because he couldn’t be himself. The real Victor was away, under lock and key.

  “I hate to make a decision without them,” Victor said.

  “They’ll still see it,” Mr. Buble said. “It’ll take time between making an offer and closing. I don’t think they’ll disapprove. They trust you to make decisions.” He shifted, looking over Victor’s shoulder.

  Approaching was an older woman, Miss Ruby. She was a wealthy woman who owned a few of the smaller homes around Charleston and on the islands. Wealthy... but you wouldn’t realize looking at her. She wore an old thin sweater and dingy pants. Word was she did all the maintenance herself on all her properties. It was hard to picture her doing that now looking at her, thin and walking slowly up to them, clutching a folder and notebook in her bony hand.

  She greeted them with a brittle voice. “Good morning,” she said. She held a hand out to Mr. Buble. “Glad to see you.”

  Mr. Buble shook her hand. “Thanks for coming to meet us so quickly.”

  “I’m always happy for a quick cash sale,” she said. “Although I’d hate to let these go. I’m just trying to minimize. These are the last in Charleston I have now. Everything else is on the islands.”

  “We’re very interested,” Mr. Buble said.

  “Is this your son?” the woman asked, offering a hand to Victor. “Hello.”

  Mr. Buble didn’t say anything, and while Victor was shaking her hand, it seemed like this was a good way to go. Would it matter later? “Uh, yes, of course. I’m Ken.” He picked a random name as far away from his own as he could, and the only one he could come up with was some jazz pianist, Kenny Drew, that he’d been reading about.

  He tried not to giggle at his own choice. Did he like that name?

  Mr. Buble didn’t say anything to the contrary. “The location is delightful. The parking, it’s not limited to the street?”

  “There are spaces around back, off the side road,” she said. “You’ll get a feel of the layout a bit more once we’re inside.” She reached into her handbag, finding an enormous set of keys on a chain and picking through, squinting at every one, the broader part with each key taped with white paper marked with numbers.

  Victor held back a sigh, accepting that this was going to take a while.

  Minutes later, they’d stepped inside and were given a short tour. A living room toward the front, a small dining space behind it, a small kitchen behind that on the right-hand side of the house, on the left, a short hallway to a downstairs bathroom, and a rear den area and mudroom. The downstairs den had a door that looked out onto a small concrete patio garden and there was a small gate that led to the rear parking. They were surrounded by large homes, windows that could look in on them... however, with taking up two of the spaces side by side, it wouldn’t look quite so much like a large group lived in one place, and some weren’t even going to be here for a while longer.

  The upstairs each had three bedrooms, a shared full bathroom with the biggest bedroom having an attached bathroom with a shower.

  There were no windows on the second-floor hallway, which worried Victor a little, but there was the fourth door. Behind it was a narrow stairwell that led to the attic.

  And it was the attic that was fantastic. Over a thousand square feet of usable space, and another door inside leading to the other townhome, of which that one was identical. It was a little warm up there in the attic, but the space was magnificent. It was something you wouldn’t find in homes here, a room as big as this. There was also a small ladder that led to the roof, which was flat on top and offered a unique view of the neighborhood.

  What could they do with it? He wasn’t really sure, but he was positive the others would know how to utilize it. Additional bedrooms, maybe secret rooms they could build in? He especially liked that the homes were attached to each other directly inside, even if they had to climb around up through the attic.

  Perfect. He couldn’t help feeling overjoyed about the prospect of living there.

  Would Sang like it?

  Which room would she want? She’d have her choice at this point. Between Nathan, her, and Victor, they’d get to choose which house and rooms they occupied.

  He also liked that the home wasn’t as descript and picturesque on the outside. Compared to other historical homes on this block, this one didn’t stand out quite as much. There was no grandeur, no formal gardens... there was no yard at all really. The back patio barely had enough space for a little sitting area. The roof was really the only space, and they shared that with the other homes on either end. But it was plenty of room up there to not be disturbed.

  No one really would be as interested. It wasn’t like his parents’ house, all grand and eye-catching and meant to be seen.

  “What about the connected homes?” Mr. Buble asked. “Who owns those?”

  “The one on the corner just rents hers out, usually during the summer,” she said. “And lives in it during the winter. Sometimes she doesn’t even rent it out, just loans it to family. The other is owned by an investor, and he keeps trying to sell it off, but for far more than it’s worth. He takes it off the market and puts it back up again. It’s always empty.”

  So there might be a chance to purchase the one later, if they could talk to the investor and talk him down perhaps... And maybe the woman next door... could they own the whole building eventually?

  Not that they needed it. The two in the middle would be all they needed.

  But the potential...

  When the tour ended, Mr. Buble and Victor met with Miss Ruby downstairs, shaking hands again.

  “Thank you for this,” Mr. Buble said. “Who do we send the offer to?”

  “To me, directly,” she said. “I do my own paperwork.”

  “Ah,” Mr. Buble said. “Very smart. Have you had offers?”

  “Three, but they’re trying to lowball me,” she said.

  “Really?” Mr. Buble said, surprised. He looked to Victor. “Well, do we like it?”

  Victor did like it. He didn’t know why, he just knew. It worked. At least for now.

  He was still a little close to his parents, but if he was careful, and pretended to be someone else for a short time, it shouldn’t be a problem. No one would recognize him.

  “Let’s get it,” Victor said, unable to help himself from beaming.

  Mrs. Ruby beamed at him. “I knew I liked you, Ken.”

  Mrs. Ruby wandered off with Mr. Buble. Meanwhile, he turned back to the house.

  His house.

  His. And Sang’s. And Nathan’s. Gabriel would come soon.

  It was all happening.

  Eventually, they’d get the others out. How it’d happen, he didn’t know.

  But for once, for the first time, he felt free.

  Thank you!

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  READ AN EXCERPT FROM THE NEXT BOOK IN THE ACADEMY GHOST BIRD SERIES

  The Academ
y

  The Ghost Bird Series

  Her Song in His Heart

  ♥

  Book Fourteen

  ♥

  Written by C. L. Stone

  Published by

  Arcato Publishing

  She Was A Lost Girl

  The air in early February in Summerville, South Carolina matched my hopes for the task we had out for us: gloomy, threatening rain.

  A chill I couldn't shake.

  Gabriel and I stood close together, my arm behind his but touching. Waiting was the tough part. The door inside the garage could open.

  My stepmother could come out and find me here. It could trigger more trouble. While standing outside the two-story gray house it seemed large and hollow, even more so than when I had lived inside. The last time had been maybe a month before.

  Gabriel was so much taller now than when I met him last summer. His hair was cut short underneath now, and he had a mop of strands on top of his head, including the two blond locks near the front, a contrast against his natural russet color. Lean, strong, a punk rock, and gruff appearing.

  As we stood together, I noticed ink marks on his arm. I reached for it, drawing it near to see he'd drawn a scene out of a movie we'd watched last week, with a girl alone on a train with a spirit and a mouse. Drawn to look like a tattoo but a few spots had faded to show it was just pen ink.

  I was about to ask him if he'd been thinking about getting tattoos again when the door opened.

  My sister appeared and spotted us. Silently she stepped out, closing the door behind herself. Her hair was up at the moment, in a high ponytail on her head with a scrunchy tie, wearing jeans and a halter shirt I didn’t recognize, and new Nike sneakers.

  When did she get those? However, I did then notice there were empty delivery boxes piled neatly near the garbage bin just inside the garage. I hadn’t thought about them before. It didn’t matter. I imagined without me in the picture, she was able to get money to buy things, possibly on the internet now that our father had abandoned the house and everything in it. I wasn’t sure how finances were working for the house right now but I was glad she was able to get what she wanted.