The Walls

by Hollie Overton

  “I’m sure he is. But there are rules. We have to send a message to these kids that this type of behavior is unacceptable.”

  “Listen, I work over at the Walls and I see what happens when the laws are broken. But I’m sure if you look back at what we both did as kids, you’ll think twice about pressing charges.” Kristy wondered if Tim was calculating his own misdeeds or if he even remembered the band geeks he beat up back in their day. Too bad they didn’t have social media back then, Kristy thought.

  “I’m just not sure I can overlook this, Kristy,” he said.

  She sighed, knowing she’d have to swallow her pride yet again.

  “Not every kid is lucky enough to have a father figure in his life,” Kristy said. “Scotty is lucky. And I’m doing my best, but maybe what Ryan needs instead of punishment is a bit of understanding. What would you say if Ryan helped out at the dealership? Anything you need, car washes, working in the office. Hell, you might be able to offer him some guidance, make sure he’s doing the right thing.”

  The last thing Kristy wanted was for Tim Welch to offer her son advice, but if this kept him out of legal trouble, she’d do anything.

  “Please, Tim, I’m begging you,” Kristy said. “Please, let’s just work this out.” Kristy could almost see Tim puffing up, like a blowfish, loving how much power he wielded over her. He glanced over at the officers and Liza.

  “Y’all know what? I think we can all agree that Ryan made a mistake and a two-week suspension will do the trick.”

  Kristy wanted to argue the suspension, to say hell no, but she saw Liza, her eyes pleading with her to give in. As pissed off as Kristy was, at least this way Ryan wouldn’t get caught in the system.

  Tim and the officers stood, waiting for Kristy’s response. She gritted her teeth, wishing she could punch this smug asshole in the face.

  “That sounds fair,” Kristy said.

  “You’re lucky Mr. Welch is so agreeable,” one of the officers replied, motioning for his partner to follow him out.

  Tim snapped his fingers and Scotty stood, shooting daggers at Ryan as he followed his father out of the gym.

  Kristy wanted to scream. She wanted to break things. These people were messing with her kid’s future. This suspension meant Ryan would miss a big debate tournament, an important step on his road to claiming the state title. Winning at state, especially as a freshman, would put Ryan on the fast track for college scholarships. Without scholarships, there was no way Kristy could afford the school of his choice, and that’s what she wanted—for Ryan to have choices. But she had to look at the positives. Ryan wasn’t going to jail. That’s what mattered.

  She returned to Ryan. He stared at her with those big brown eyes, wide and pleading the way they always were when he was in trouble. His Puss in Boots eyes. They were an effective tool in his don’t be mad at me arsenal. She’d always found it impossible to punish him when he brought those out.

  “What did they say? What’s happening?” Ryan asked.

  “You stood up for yourself. That counts for something in my book. But not another word until we’re in the car,” Kristy said.

  “I need to talk to Ella.”

  Ella was Ryan’s best friend. The two of them had been attached at the hip since Ella’s family moved to town when Ryan was in the sixth grade.

  “You can talk to her later. Go on. I’ll meet you in the car.”

  Ryan slumped out of the gym. Kristy turned to Liza, who was waiting patiently.

  “Thank you for calling me. For making sure he was looked after,” she said.

  “Of course. But if Ryan’s going to continue martial arts training, he should understand there are consequences. Next time, he could face expulsion and criminal charges,” Liza said.

  “There won’t be a next time,” Kristy promised. She’d make damn sure of it.

  “Ryan is remarkable, one of the best kids I’ve met. He’s going to make us all proud,” Liza said confidently. Tears pricked at Kristy’s eyes. She had to get out of this gym before she lost it completely.

  “Thank you again,” she said as she rushed out of the school.

  Kristy found Ryan sitting in the truck, staring down at his phone in disbelief. Ryan’s hair was too long and she had to fight the urge to brush it out of his eyes. She still couldn’t believe her son had lied to her about taking martial arts classes.

  Lying was a deal breaker. It had been ever since Ryan was in the first grade and he stole a Butterfinger from his teacher’s desk. He denied doing it, even though the teacher caught him red-handed. After the parent-teacher conference in which Kristy and the teacher discussed the incident, Kristy decided to use the knowledge she had gained at work—use guilt to gain a confession. She would use Ryan’s innate goodness against him.

  “I don’t care what people think about Mrs. Richardson. She’s a liar. I mean, I know you. I know you would never steal anything,” Kristy said.

  She kept at it for an entire evening, even taking Ryan to Pizza Hut as a treat, ordering extra cheesy bread, apologizing over and over to him, explaining that adults weren’t always right. Before the check arrived, Ryan broke down, begging her for forgiveness as tears streamed down his tiny cheeks.

  “I stole the Butterfinger. I knew it was wrong but Adam Kennedy called me a chicken and I just wanted to prove them wrong. Mama, I’m so sorry I lied.”

  They made a pact. “No matter what happens, promise you’ll always tell the truth. I promise too. Honesty always,” Kristy said.

  Ryan reached out to shake her hand. “Honesty always.” They shook on it and as far as Kristy knew, he had never broken that promise. Until today. Nine years later, Kristy’s disappointment was just as profound as it had been sitting in that tiny desk chair, listening to Ryan’s teacher.

  “What do we always say?” she asked Ryan.

  Ryan didn’t answer.

  “You lied, Ry. We said we’d never lie.”

  “All right, so I lied. And I’m sorry. But Scott had it coming.”

  “I’m sure he did,” Kristy said. “It doesn’t change the fact that what you did was wrong.”

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?” Ryan asked. “What are they gonna do to me?” he asked.

  It wasn’t fair to delay the news. Rip off the damn Band-Aid, she told herself.

  “Two weeks’ suspension.”

  He turned away, staring out at the football field as he processed the news. Ryan pounded his fists against the dashboard.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! These assholes … they always win. They always …”

  He was right to be upset. In Kristy’s experience, the assholes always won.

  “I’m going to miss the tournament. They gave me a shot and now I’m going to let the whole team down,” he said, swiping at his falling tears.

  “Who said you couldn’t still help the team?”

  “I’m not grounded?” Ryan asked, eyes wide with surprise.

  “Oh, without a doubt. But there’s no reason the team has to suffer because of your deceit. They can come over and prep at the house after school. But that’s it. You’re grounded for two weeks. Not for defending yourself. For lying to me about your martial arts classes.”

  “I’m sorry. I just … I couldn’t keep letting them pick on me.”

  “So you decided to become Jackie Chan?”

  He shook his head. “Jackie Chan? Really, Mom? So lame.”

  “You know what’s lame? Lying to your mom. Beating up your classmates. When did you start taking martial arts?”

  “About three months ago. Ella had dance class at the Y and I started talking to the martial arts teacher about Scott and the other guys hassling me. He suggested I sign up for his class. He said he’d been picked on as a kid and that’s why he began training. I swear, Mom, you should’ve seen Scotty’s face. He couldn’t believe what I did.”

  Kristy wanted to smile. She wanted to hear the play-by-play of how it went down because those kids weren’t any different from the ones who’d b
ullied her into dropping out. But violence, acting out without thinking about the consequences, was not the answer.

  “What’s this man’s name? This martial arts teacher,” she asked Ryan.

  He shook his head.

  “No way. I tell you and you’ll go all vigilante on his ass.”

  “I’m not going to go anything on his ass, and watch your tone. Do you know how serious this is? They could have pressed charges if they wanted. It’s important I have a conversation with this man so he understands the skills he’s teaching teenagers have real-world consequences.”

  Ryan slumped into his seat.

  “I’m still waiting,” Kristy said. Ryan sighed, the fight gone out of him.

  “It’s Lance. Lance Dobson.”

  Kristy started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

  “I’m dropping you off at home. There’s a frozen pizza in the freezer and salad in the fridge. Make sure Pops takes his meds and doesn’t drink more than one beer.”

  “Where are you going?” Ryan asked, a slight whine in his voice. God, Kristy hated when he whined.

  “I’m going to have a chat with Mr. Dobson.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Kristy lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply as she drove down the long stretch of back roads. The sweet smoke filled her lungs, her crushing anxiety slowly dissipating with each inhale. She had quit smoking a few years back. After Pops’s diagnosis, she understood she’d be a hypocrite asking him to quit if she couldn’t. But Kristy always kept a pack in her glove box, allowing herself one cigarette after an execution, a way to decompress. At this very moment, Carmen and Gus would be waiting for a phone call from the warden to announce that Tyler Watkins’s execution would begin. Tyler Watkins would be in his cell, less than twenty-five feet from the death chamber, waiting for the inevitable.

  What made everything with Ryan even more upsetting was Kristy’s understanding of violence and the havoc it wreaks. Ryan was too young to know that one hasty decision, one bad move, could cost you everything. Kristy pulled into the parking lot of the YMCA, which sat in an oversized lot off Interstate 10. It was one of those ridiculously large rectangular buildings, similar to Walmart and the other big-box stores that dominated the landscape. Ryan always called the buildings here in Texas soulless and unimaginative. He was obsessed with European architecture, educating Kristy on how those structures were erected with the idea that long after the builders were dead and gone, they would be remembered. Here in Conroe, their epithets would read, Cheap and quick.

  Kristy took one last drag off her cigarette and stamped it out before entering the YMCA. The front desk clerk, a perky blonde in lavender spandex, gave Kristy a dismissive once-over and returned to her cell phone, texting with an unparalleled intensity and focus.

  “Excuse me,” Kristy said.

  The blonde didn’t even look up, fingers flying over the keypad.

  “Memberships are fifty dollars a month. Thirty-five if you pay three months in advance.”

  “Actually, I’m looking for Lance Dobson.”

  The blonde’s head sprang up, zeroing in on Kristy with renewed interest, her tweezed eyebrows raised as she waited for Kristy to offer more information.

  “Lance Dobson? Is he still here?” Kristy said.

  “Are you a friend?”

  Kristy leaned against the counter and plastered on a smile.

  “Lance and I are like family.”

  The girl’s relief was obvious. She returned her attention to her phone, waving Kristy away. “Down the hall, last door on the left.”

  Kristy followed her directions and reached the training room. The grunts, the thud of impact as bodies hit pads, and the smell of sweat transported her back to the prison. The threat of violence always lingered there. These sounds put her on her guard, and she had to remind herself there was no threat here. Not for Kristy anyway. Lance was a different story.

  Gym bags and water bottles littered the walls and corners. In the center of the room on a giant foldable mat were two men of similar weight. One appeared to be early forties, his tribal-patterned yoga pants snugly hugging his muscled physique.

  The other man looked late twenties, wearing loose black pants, his build slightly denser. Kristy didn’t know why, but she was certain the man in the tribal pants was Lance. He possessed a masculine confidence so ingrained he’d probably never been self-conscious a day in his life.

  She stood silently, watching the two men spar. Kristy had seen her share of fights break out in the prison yard. Most men who were incarcerated had grown up with violence at home, at school. Many were boxers, amateur and above.

  In this match, the fighters were at an expert level. Their punches went back and forth as each man gained and lost the advantage. Within a few seconds, the man in the black pants made a miscalculation and his opponent seized him, trapping him on the mat, his arm locked around the younger man’s throat. Jaw clenched, anxious for a victory that appeared moments away, he muscled the hold until the younger man tapped out.

  Just like that, the intensity of the match dissipated. The two men slowly untangled from one another and stood up, shaking hands.

  “Carlos, you dropped your gaze and lost sight of your surroundings,” the older man said, running his hands through his slick black hair. “You know how I took you down? It’s simple. It’s all about focus. You have to focus on your opponent and forget everything else. It’s not easy. For example, you might have noticed that sexy-as-hell woman standing in the doorway watching us. I sensed her the second she walked in the door. I smelled her perfume, heard her footsteps, and I can tell by her expression she’s not pleased with me, though I’m not real sure why. But even with all those distractions, I stayed focused, which is why I was able to kick your ass.”

  He then turned to look at Kristy, a lazy grin illuminating his face. God, she hated men like him, the type that thought their good looks gave them a free pass in life.

  “Are you Lance Dobson?” Kristy asked.

  “Guilty as charged. And this beast of a man I just humiliated is Carlos.”

  Carlos smiled shyly at Kristy.

  “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

  Kristy nodded politely, but this wasn’t cocktail hour. Lance Dobson was screwing with her son’s future, and she wasn’t going to let him charm his way out of this.

  “I’m here to speak with you about my son, Ryan Tucker.”

  “Oh yeah. Ryan’s one of the good ones. Give me a sec.” Lance gave Carlos a fist bump.

  “Work on your focus, C-Town, and don’t be late next week or I’ll make you regret it!”

  Carlos headed out and Lance swiveled back around, his attention solely focused on Kristy.

  “It’s great to finally meet you. Ryan is a helluva kid. Athletic, quick, smart as hell.”

  “Ryan assaulted a student today.”

  Lance did a double take, eyes widening with shock.

  “Shit,” he said, his Southern drawl stretching the word out so that it was nearly three syllables.

  “‘Shit’ is right. My son was suspended from school for two weeks. He broke a kid’s nose. He was almost arrested.”

  “Jesus. That’s a damn shame.”

  “A damn shame? You’re teaching my kid potentially life-threatening skills and all you can say is ‘that’s a damn shame.’” Kristy’s anger was apparent, her voice rising.

  “I drill into all of my students that this is a serious practice with serious consequences. I’m sorry that Ryan didn’t understand that, but you had to know the risk when he started coming here.”

  “I didn’t …” She stopped herself.

  Lance exhaled in frustration and ran a hand through his sweaty hair.

  “Ryan turned in a signed consent form. All minors are required to submit one for insurance purposes. He said you were on board. I even asked Ryan if we would be seeing you at our practice matches, but he said you worked a lot and might have a hard time getting away.”

  Jesus.
Could this day get any worse? Of course she worked a lot. She had a family to support. But if she’d known this was something Ryan cared about, she’d have shown up. All he had to do was name the time and place and she would be there.

  “When Ryan comes back next week, I’ll have a talk with him. We’ll get this straightened out,” Lance said.

  Kristy shook her head emphatically.

  “He won’t be coming back.” Kristy turned to go.

  “Wait!” Lance’s hand gently touched her arm and she shook him off, the frustrations of the day bubbling over, her powerlessness nearly overwhelming her.

  “My son is not some thug. Did he tell you that he’s on the debate team? They’ve got a real chance at winning state. Did you know he also helps coach an Urban Debate league in Houston? He gets up every Saturday at five a.m. and takes the bus two hours each way to help coach kids whose schools don’t have our resources.”

  “Ms. Tucker, I know,” Lance said.

  “Then you should know Ryan is not some townie loser who is going to be stuck here forever. He’s going places.”

  “I can see that. If you would just listen …”

  But Kristy was done listening. She wasn’t going to let some man tell her what Ryan needed.

  “No, you listen. I don’t bust my ass working a shitty job, dealing with sociopaths and murderers every day, to have my son wind up like one of them. I’m going to say this once and only once—stay the hell away from him.”

  Kristy hurried away. She wasn’t going to fail Ryan. No matter what she had to do, Kristy was going to do right by him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It was pitch black by the time Kristy pulled into her driveway, exhaustion consuming her. She parked and heard her phone buzz. Reaching into her purse, she unearthed her cell phone and saw the text from Carmen.

  Tyler Watkins. Dead at 6:27pm. Not much to report. Closing the office at 9:27pm. Hope Ryan is okay. Hugs, Carmen

  A wave of relief crashed through Kristy. At least she’d gotten a reprieve from today’s execution. It wasn’t much to be grateful for, but it was something.