by R. D. Power
“No,” she said. “You’re wrong about me. I never wanted them to hurt you. I admire you. I admire your courage.”
“You think I was brave out there? I was scared as hell, but I knew from hard experience, it would be less painful in the long run if I stayed to face the music than if I ran away. Then I’d be a chicken in everyone’s eyes, and the bullies would never leave me alone. Now everyone knows they’ll get hurt if they take me on. Yes, I apologize, but I am feeling sorry for myself at this moment, while I struggle to see out of my swollen eye and speak through my fat lip. Forgive me, your heinous,” he said bowing. “Now get out!”
Kristen turned and walked out, then ran home. Her life, she realized, was blessed compared to his. She knew he’d lost his family, but it didn’t seem to trouble him outwardly, so it didn’t trouble her. She had never considered what a terrible tragedy it was for him; he really had lost everything. She cried just thinking about it. How remarkable it was that he turned out so well in the face of that, she reflected.
Jennifer, who felt a little remorseful about the fight and who was rebellious enough to want to see Robert because she’d been forbidden to do so, went to see him the next weekend. “I heard you beat up three boys. That’s pretty impressive,” she complimented as he opened his front door.
“Thanks,” the surprised and delighted teenager replied, while straightening out his hair with his hand, “though I imagine the three dickless gobs of shit that left me lying mangled and whimpering in a ditch would be surprised to learn I beat them up.” She laughed. “Um, do you want to come in?” he said. He never dreamed such a stunning girl would come calling for him.
“No, but let’s walk and talk for a while,” she answered. He smiled and nodded, and the two strolled through their lovely neighborhood. Although she wasn’t as polished at conversing as he, he enjoyed just looking at the striking girl. Her ethereal beauty overwhelmed any personality flaws in his judgment.
She, too, enjoyed the walk, liking his looks, sense of humor, and turns of phrase. He was so different from any other boy she’d ever met. As their stroll ended, he asked if she’d like to do it again sometime.
“Maybe some time. I’ll let you know. Don’t ask me, though,” she ordered.
He went home and thought of her every minute that day and in spurts that night.
Since Robert felt he couldn’t make idle threats in his vulnerable position, he set out to keep his oath to get each of his three assailants while he was alone. The next Monday, he boarded the morning Catholic school bus in search of any of the three. Ryan was the unfortunate one he spotted first. Robert grabbed him with both hands by the shirt and thrust him up, slamming his head on the ceiling of the bus. The boy collapsed, moaning and holding his head. Most of the teens who witnessed the event were stunned at its ferocity and rapidity. Before Robert could address the other two boys, the bus driver intervened, screaming, “Get off my bus, hooligan!”
Robert glared at Trevor and, adapting a cheesy line he’d heard on a TV movie the evening before, he said, “You’re next, and I’m when through with you, you’ll be wearing your ass for a hat and your balls for a necktie.”
Smiling genially at Jennifer, who smiled back, he left. Kristen and the driver helped Ryan back to his seat. He seemed okay.
Resuming her seat next to her cousin, Kristen said, “I think that boy is dangerous. We should stay far away from him.”
“I don’t know about dangerous, but he is definitely sexy,” declared Jennifer.
“You’re actually turned on by what he did?”
“He’s just so … I don’t know … virile—and we both know Ryan deserved it.”
“Be careful, Jenny. He might be violent with girls, too.”
“Don’t worry, cuz. He’s my puppet.”
•
After school, he went to Trevor’s house and rang the bell. Trevor answered, came out to try to talk his way out of a fight, but went down at the behest of Robert’s fist. He refused to get back up, so Robert left.
Trevor phoned Bret to warn him. Trevor’s mother phoned the police, who arrived at Bret’s house to see Robert sitting on a boulder out front, waiting for Bret to play. They took him to the station.
Inspector Taylor took a particular interest in this case and went to interview him. “In trouble again, eh?”
“I guess so. Do the cops have a special squad to track down kids who get into fist fights now?”
“Don’t you take that tone with me,” he warned. “The parents are filing assault charges against you.”
“Really? Where do I find forms to file assault charges against their son and the two other pricks who attacked me for no reason when I got off the bus last week?”
“You have a right to do that if you wish, but I’d rather avoid the paperwork. I’ve called your social worker, my wife, to try to defuse this situation.” The inspector left and called Trevor’s parents to relay the threat of charges against their son for the unprovoked attack the week prior. They’d got a different story from their son, of course, but were worried enough to withdraw their request to have Robert charged.
Lisa came to the station to interview the miscreant. “Mr. Owens, what happened this time?”
“Just a small fight. I can’t believe they called the cops over this.”
“Well, parents don’t take kindly to their children being beaten up,” Lisa said.
“But it’s okay for their children to gang up on someone?”
“You can be sure the parents knew nothing of that. Bobby, I brought you into my neighborhood to help you through a rough time. I must say, some people in the neighborhood are upset about you being there. This behavior doesn’t help.”
“Then move me somewhere else. I don’t care anymore what happens to me.”
“I’m not giving up on you, and I don’t want you to. You are a brilliant boy. You merely need to make a decision to behave yourself to succeed in life.”
“Oh, is that all?”
“Don’t be snippy with me. I know they attacked you, and you had every right to defend yourself, but why did you continue the fight days later?”
“Because I really enjoy pain. Could I bother you to crush my head?”
“Bobby, take this seriously.”
“Mrs. Taylor, I respect you, I do, and I’m grateful for what you’ve done for me, but you have no idea what my life is like. I’ve learned through hard experience that you need to make a bold statement to get the bullies off your back. I did that today. I never start anything, but I finish it.”
In the car on the way home, she continued their conversation. “Please try to stay out of trouble or I’ll have everyone, beginning with my husband, demanding your removal from Kilworth. You have good foster parents now. This is a new start. Don’t fall in with the wrong crowd again. Show the others that you’re worth getting to know. You were born with so much. Start using it for your advantage. You have your monthly stipend now. Use it to buy what you need. You don’t have enough for everything you may want, but neither do most people. Behave yourself!” She dropped him off at his house, worried about how this youth, with such incredible promise, but even more incredible bad luck, would turn out.
Chapter Three
The Infamous School Bus Incident
Lisa Taylor was much more than a good social worker—she was a good woman. She knew that Robert’s fate may well depend on meeting the right person of his own age, someone kind and good who could help steer him in the right direction. In theory, the perfect person for this was her daughter. Kristen was one of the finest people one might ever have the great fortune to meet. She couldn’t help but have a positive influence on anyone she met. She, too, could benefit from knowing Robert, Lisa thought, for Kristen didn’t have anyone who provided the intellectual stimulation she craved. Lisa was a mother first and foremost, though, as all good mothers are. She couldn’t risk her daughter’s welfare with such a boy, and she knew her husband would never permit it.
There
was also Jeremy. Sports were his passion, especially hockey. He and his friends played street hockey every afternoon after school. Lisa wasn’t keen on risking her son’s future either, but playing street hockey together seemed harmless. She felt the two would never be friends; they were too different.
Without her husband’s knowledge, she asked Jeremy to include Robert in their games. Easy-going Jeremy said that was fine. He called and asked Robert to play. He came down immediately. He became a regular. Bill noticed before long, but didn’t say much other than repeating his warning to keep him out of their house.
“And don’t hang around with him,” he told his son.
Jennifer enjoyed luring this stirring bad boy. It was time for another sally. This time, she invited Kristen along. Kristen would have said no, being scared of him, but went along so Jennifer wouldn’t be at risk alone with him.
The three wound their way through the trails by the river, Jennifer and Robert side-by-side, and Kristen just in front. Kristen, a brilliant conversationalist, monopolized the interchange with him. A long, intelligent discussion prompted them to circle the trails twice, so enamored were they of the inspiring dialogue. Finally someone to really talk to, someone who understands everything I say, Kristen thought. Plus, he’s so funny—and she loved to laugh above all else. She found it difficult to believe that this was the same person who seemed so mindlessly violent just a few days prior, difficult to fathom how such an impressive mind could be immured in such an aggressive body.
He talked with Kristen and looked at Jennifer. Neither girl was pleased with that arrangement. Jennifer asked Kristen if she would mind leaving them on their own. Kristen tried to say no, but the other two were insistent. Jennifer and Robert took a turn about the village alone.
“Can we do this again?” said the captivated teen, upon reaching the Taylor house.
“I’ll let you know,” she said, her power over him growing. The next weekend, she repeated her invitation to walk together. Her uncle found out when Kristen, who wasn’t invited along, happened to mention it near him. He forbade her to do it again, which redoubled her desire to do it. Jennifer and Robert began to walk together every weekend, staying away from the Taylor house.
Robert fast became infatuated with the lovely girl. Both he and she considered him the fortunate one. Both knew she was out of his league. She was spectacular, but he was merely good-looking; she was well-off, he was destitute; she popular, he ostracized. Jennifer took advantage of her power. She treated him poorly, sneering at his clothes, ordering him about, standing him up, insulting him in front of others, and even bringing other boys along for the walk on occasion, and attending to only them. Naturally proud, he bristled at this treatment, but put up with it because he didn’t want to lose her. Any time he showed a tittle of irritation with her behavior, she’d threaten to leave him, which never failed to put him back in his place.
Yet, as the relationship matured, she began to recognize how special he was. Gradually, her complete control over him eroded, because she had come to enjoy his company so much. Kristen, who was left out of the promenades, started to grouse that he was controlling her life, which she knew would upset her cousin. That thought sent a shudder through Jennifer. Things had gone too far. She made up her mind to break it off just before Christmas, but couldn’t go through with it when she was next with him.
Robert spent that Christmas alone, the Kriegers having gone on a skiing trip to upstate New York. It wasn’t any worse for him than it would have been otherwise. It was an ideal time to get mired in self-pity, and we all indulge in that sometimes. Sitting in the family room beside the cheap, artificial tree with its four ornaments—for a fifth would have surely toppled it—he wept in remembrance of the wonderful Christmases he’d known with his family.
He put two frozen chicken pies in the oven.
Then, after having pondered the prospect since he awoke, he decided to watch a home movie. He hadn’t had the heart to watch the family movies since his family perished, but now a morbid curiosity to see them again gripped him, so he fetched the most recent tape from his trunk, put it into the VCR, and—after hesitating for a few moments—pushed play. There they were: mom, dad, and Tara—Robert was in charge of the camera for the shot—laughing, joking, and talking. He sat there and gazed at the screen open-mouthed. Seeing them so alive, he found it incredible that they were forever gone. His father took the camera and turned it on a smiling Robert. He looked at his younger self—he was so young when it happened—taking his happiness for granted, never suspecting it would end, never conceiving of the possibility of the catastrophe that would befall him not two weeks from then.
What he would give to once again feel that unquestioning love, that security, that innocence, that blissful ignorance of what life brings. He managed to watch for a few minutes before breaking down. He whispered, “Goodbye,” to the screen, ejected the tape, and returned it to his trunk, back with the disarrayed remnants of his dead family.
Later, he ate mechanically, trying not to think about the contrast with the turkey dinners he’d enjoyed so much. Oh, to taste mom’s dressing and grandma’s strawberry-rhubarb pie again. Embittered and depressed, he kicked the ugly tree; it fell over and three of the ornaments broke, leaving only the one. His tears resumed, but he gritted his teeth and told himself, Get over it! It’s been almost seven years.
Thoughts of Jennifer Taylor cheered him up. She was the sole bright spot in his life, and he was beginning to love her. He placed a small, framed picture of Jennifer on top of his trunk so that it faced the bed. The frame had held a picture of his mother, which he removed and carefully tucked away in his photo album, one of the cherished keepsakes from his dead family.
When apart from Robert, Jennifer wanted to break up with him. When with him, she couldn’t, which annoyed her when she was next apart from him. When three friends in the beautiful clique, who’d seen the two walking hand-in-hand at the mall, asked about her boyfriend in a tone that connoted he was so clearly beneath her, she protested, “He’s not my boyfriend!”
“Well, to be honest, we didn’t think it could be true,” one claimed. “With all the guys in the school after you, why would you be slumming it with that guy?”
She smiled and walked away, but her smile inverted as soon as her friends were out of sight. It was time for action. She formulated a malicious scheme, and without telling Kristen the purport, enlisted her cousin’s help.
“Krissy,” she opened, “I want you to get Bobby to ask me out.”
“Why don’t you just ask him?”
“No way. That would be like admitting I’m desperate. You need to ask him to ask me.”
Kristen demurred, but eventually acquiesced.
“Bobby,” she called to him after his street hockey game ended the next afternoon.
“What?” he said.
“Jenny wants you to ask her out on a date,” she informed.
“Really?” he said, looking delighted. “Awesome! Where is she?”
“Um, she wants you to ask her on the bus.” He looked apprehensive at that notion and asked why. “I think she loves the attention. If you want a hot date, you’d better do it.”
The next Monday morning, he did as she suggested. The bus rolled up. After a moment’s vacillation, he boarded the bus and stood near the driver. Jennifer sat near the back, so he would have to shout. She’d guessed that he’d have to stay at the front, so the bus wouldn’t leave with him on it. “Jenny,” he called to her, with a perceptible tremor. “How would you like to go out with me Friday night?”
The whole bus awaited her response.
“I’d rather die than go out with you,” she declared. “I think you’re low-class, yet somehow you’re also a conceited jerk. I’ll thank you never to talk to me again!”
Kristen was horrified. She couldn’t believe what Jennifer had done, and she felt awful for him.
Robert was thunderstruck. He blushed as half the bus, mostly boys, erupted in laughte
r, and the other half, mostly girls, went “Ooh.”
Never had anyone ever been so humiliated, he thought. Feeling utterly betrayed, abandoned, and infuriated, he turned and left the bus. As it pulled away, he still had a shocked look on his face, a look that degenerated into one of wrath, which stayed with him for some time. That look, along with his reputation for fighting, kept the teasing to a minimum.
After the bus pulled away from the stop and the laughter subsided, an undercurrent of revulsion surfaced. She’d been merciless to that cute boy already scrupulously spurned by fortune. As the invective flowed that morning, Jennifer knew she’d miscalculated dreadfully. She had finally achieved her goal. She conquered his heart, then destroyed it—in front of everyone, no less. She’d put the urchin in his place, and there were a couple of girls who looked approvingly at her as if to say, “It’s about time.” Why, then, did she regret it more than anything she had ever done?
Kristen wouldn’t talk to her at school for days. When she finally said something, it was, “Don’t bother coming to my house this weekend. I don’t want to see you.”
“Oh, come on, Krissy. Why are you mad at me?”
“I know you set up that disaster to bring me down, too. You know I like him, and you couldn’t stand the thought that he might still like me after you humiliated him. I need to know: why did you do it?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“I think it’s because you like being mean to boys since your father moved away. Did you stop to think for one second that this boy has suffered enough for a lifetime already?” Kristen walked away. The two were estranged for three weeks, and their relationship was never the same after that.
