by Sharon Sala
“No, ma’am. They were from your side of town. It was Coach Sharp’s boy, Banker Buckley’s son, and Mrs. Rankin’s twins.”
He heard a gasp and then nothing. Just when he thought she was going to hang up, she asked him one more question, her voice shaking.
“How bad is he hurt?”
“They broke his nose and ribs. He has multiple contusions, a swollen mouth, loose teeth, and his eyes are black. I will let you know when to expect them at the Before and After again.”
“Oh, Johnny, I am so sorry.”
“Yes, ma’am, so am I,” Johnny said and disconnected.
Now that he’d taken care of the immediate, he needed to think about long term. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table with the phone book. It was time to call that lawyer.
* * *
P. Nutt Butterman, Esq., known around town as Peanut, heard about the school incident from his secretary, who heard about it from her sister-in-law, who heard it from her husband who was a bus driver for the Blessings Public School system. Soon afterward, Peanut got a heads-up call from Paul Quick about doing pro bono work for Johnny Pine. He had a fondness for underdogs and admired Johnny Pine for keeping his family out of the Social Services system. He quickly agreed to help and was debating as to whether he should approach Pine on his own or wait for him to come in when his secretary knocked and then stepped into his office.
“There is a young man named Johnny Pine on the phone. He wants to know if you would see him today. I didn’t know what to tell him because technically you don’t have an appointment open, but your next appointment is already late. She lives about five miles out of town, and the way it’s raining, she may have decided not to drive in.”
“Put him on the phone,” Peanut said. “I’ll talk to him now, and we’ll go from there.”
She nodded and closed the door on her way out.
Peanut sat down, waiting for her to put the call through, and when he heard Johnny’s voice, he leaned forward with his elbows on the desk, ready to go to war. He did love fighting for the underdogs.
“Hello, this is Butterman.”
“Mr. Butterman, my name is Johnny Pine, and I think I need a lawyer. Dr. Quick gave me your name to—”
“Quick already called me,” Peanut said. “Sorry to hear about your brother, and I just want to let you know this one’s on me. By the way, what’s your brother’s name again? Quick told me, but I didn’t write it down.”
Johnny hesitated, a little overwhelmed that this had happened so easily. “His name is Brooks, but everybody calls him Beep.”
Peanut chuckled. “I can appreciate a good nickname. I tried to hold a grudge against my parents for what they named me, but the oddity of my name has made it memorable. When someone in the area is in need of a lawyer, my name is the first one they think of.”
Johnny relaxed. The man was definitely friendly and seemed very down-to-earth.
“I appreciate this more than you know.”
Peanut grabbed a pen and a notepad. “My pleasure. Now, the first thing we’ll need to do is make sure the parents are aware they will be responsible for the medical bills incurred from this, so I’ll get their personal info. I know Dr. Quick called the police. Has your brother given his statement yet?”
“Yes, sir. Officer Pittman came to the ER and videoed it. He said he was going to school to get statements from the kids when he left.”
“Perfect. I’ll get a copy of that or a transcript. Now, do you want to ask for damages?”
Johnny was a little shocked. “No, no, I don’t want to sue anyone. I just want to make sure they pay for the medical bills and that there are proper consequences for those boys. I don’t want anybody paid off, so to speak, to make this go away.”
“Then that’s what we’ll aim for,” Peanut said. “Let me talk to the police and see what charges, if any, are going to be filed. Give me your contact number, and I’ll be in touch.”
Johnny gave him his phone number and then a few moments later, hung up. He didn’t know how this was going to turn out, but it felt good to have legal aid on their side.
When he glanced at the clock, he realized lunchtime had long since come and gone, and headed to the boys’ bedroom.
“Hey, Marshall, did you bring your lunch home?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s in my backpack.”
Beep’s eyes welled with tears. “My mouf hurts. Don’t want nothin’ to eat.”
Johnny frowned. The pain meds they’d given Beep in ER were beginning to wear off. “I’m sorry, buddy. I’ll go get your new prescriptions filled and pick up some soup. How about chicken noodle? It’s your favorite, and you won’t have to chew.”
Beep nodded.
“Can I eat here in our room with Beep while you’re gone?” Marshall asked.
Johnny had a rule about eating food at the table, but today was a day for breaking rules.
“Yeah, sure. And you can have a root beer with it, if you want. There are a couple in the refrigerator.”
“Can I have one too?” Beep asked.
“How about you and Marshall just share one, and if you want more, you guys can open the other one.”
“Okay,” Beep said, but the tears overflowed and started to roll.
Johnny sat down on the side of the bed and patted Beep’s knee. He wanted to cry with him.
“I’m so sorry, buddy. Hang in there. I won’t be gone long.” Then he pointed at Marshall. “You’re in charge. Use your common sense, please.”
Marshall nodded.
Wasting no time, Johnny was back out in the rain. His clothes were still uncomfortably wet, but there was no need changing until he was home to stay. He was sick to his stomach about what had happened and knowing Beep was in pain made him angry. He wanted revenge. He wanted those boys to pay. But how would justice ever be served when the perpetrators were still kids too?
It wasn’t going to be up to him to seek revenge though. He had the law and a lawyer on his side. Surely they would make things right. All he needed to do was what he’d been doing: take care of business. He started the car, and after a quick glance at the aging house they called home, he put the car in gear and drove away.
First stop was at the pharmacy to drop off the prescriptions. He intended to get what groceries they needed while they were being filled.
LilyAnn Dalton was shelving bottles of shampoo when she saw him come in and quickly stopped what she was doing to talk.
“Johnny! We’ve been hearing horrible stories about Beep being hurt at school. Is that true?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m afraid it is.”
LilyAnn’s hand subconsciously went to her belly and the baby she was carrying.
“Is Beep okay? I can’t believe that happened.”
“He’s home, but he has a ways to go before he’s able to go back to school.”
Mr. Phillips, the pharmacist, walked up as they were talking.
“Johnny? Is your boy okay?”
“He will be,” Johnny said and handed him two prescriptions. “I need to get these filled, please.”
“I’ll get right on it,” he said and hurried off.
LilyAnn lowered her voice.
“Was it really Coach Sharp’s boy? And Buckley’s? And the Rankin twins?”
He nodded.
Her eyes widened, stunned that “good boys” would do something so awful.
“Someone said they kicked him. Is that true? Is he hurt bad?”
Johnny sighed. He hated repeating this over and over, but better the truth from him than gossip on the streets.
“Yes, it’s true. The truth is they hurt him bad. His nose and a couple of ribs are broken. His mouth is swollen. They loosened some of his teeth, blacked his eyes, and he has deep contusions on his back and leg.”
The horror of what he was saying shocked her to tears.
“Oh my Lord! Why, Johnny, why?”
A muscle jerked at the side of Johnny’s eye.
“Because his last name is Pine. Because I cut gum out of his hair, and they decided he had ringworm. Because they’re mean, entitled little bastards who believe they are better because of who they are and where they live. I’ll be back in a little while to get the medicine.”
He walked out with his head up, grateful for the rain that hid his tears.
By that night, Blessings was in an uproar. There was a contingent of residents who were horrified that four decent boys from good families had been taken to the police station and booked like common criminals all because of a little fight with one of those Pines.
And then there were the others who were horrified that one small boy was brutally beaten by a gang of boys, all older and bigger than him, regardless of his name. There hadn’t been an acrimonious division like this among the residents since the day Georgia seceded from the Union and went to war against the United States of America.
* * *
Unaware of the growing turmoil in town, Dori was washing dishes and listening to her little boy’s babbling as he whacked a teething biscuit into crumbs against the tray of his high chair.
Meeker was in the living room, watching television. Every now and then he would rub his chest and burp. Something he’d eaten didn’t agree with him. He yawned and stretched and burped again.
“Damn chili,” he muttered and got up, heading for the kitchen to get some antacid tablets.
Dori smiled when she saw him walk in.
“Hi, Granddaddy. Do you want something cold to drink?”
“No, honey, I’m fine. That chili I ate is barking at me. I just need some antacid.”
She frowned. “The chili was fine. It was all those pickled jalapeño slices you put on it that’s making your belly hurt.”
He grinned. “You sound just like your Grandma Caroline,” he said as he dug through the cabinet for the medicine, then popped a couple of chewable tablets in his mouth.
Luther pointed at the bottle and squealed.
Meeker laughed. “This isn’t candy, boy! You stick to your cookie…or what’s left of it.”
Dori eyed the crumbs, both on the tray and the floor, then rolled her eyes at the wads of crumbs between Luther’s fat little fingers.
“You are a mess, Luther Joe. I think it’s time you get a bath and get in bed.”
Meeker eyed his granddaughter, judging the slight slump in her shoulders and the lack of color in her face. She looked tired.
“Five a.m. comes early, doesn’t it, girl?”
She shrugged. “It’s early all right, but I also get home early too, which is fine by me.”
He admired her attitude and her fortitude. Despite her fragile appearance, she was a tough little thing. He’d always felt a little guilty about Dori’s situation, thinking if there’d been a woman in her life, things might have turned out different. Then he looked at Luther. But if things had been different, then they wouldn’t have the little guy, and that would have been a tragedy indeed.
“I believe I’ll have that cold drink after all,” he said, getting a cold Coca-Cola from the refrigerator and taking it with him as Dori got a clean wet washcloth and began cleaning up Luther and his mess.
Rain was still hammering against the roof and blowing against the windows as she carried her baby down the hall. He was patting her cheeks with his fat baby hands, and when he poked a finger in her mouth, she pretended to bite it.
Luther squealed.
Dori laughed.
Their nightly ritual continued.
The rainstorm had moved on and the house was quiet by the time Dori crawled in bed. Meeker was snoring in his bedroom down the hall, and she could hear Luther in his crib on the other side of the room, sucking his thumb. She sighed, glad the day was over, but the moment she relaxed, she thought of what had happened to Johnny Pine’s little brother and then of Johnny, imagining how afraid she would have been if it had been Luther who’d been hurt today. In an odd way, they were both in the same boat: teenagers raising kids. The only difference was that she had her grandfather. Johnny didn’t have anyone. She wondered who he talked to when he got scared, and then she rolled over and closed her eyes.
* * *
Johnny got a text from his boss sometime during the night, telling him to take the day off, since it was too wet to run a dozer, to take care of Beep, and to just ignore what people are saying.
Johnny’s stomach rolled, wondering what kind of uproar the incident had started. From what his boss said, it sounded like people were mad at them, which figured, even though Beep was the victim.
He shoved a hand through his hair and got up to go check on the boys. They were still asleep, so he started coffee and then went to take a shower and get dressed. If shit was going to hit the fan, he didn’t intend to face it butt naked.
He showered quickly, then wrapped a towel around his waist and squirted some shaving cream in his hand. He couldn’t remember ever seeing his daddy clean shaven or dressed up, and his need to be a polar opposite was ingrained. All three of the boys had their daddy’s black hair, which marked them yet again as “one of those Pines,” but they didn’t have to mirror his ways.
As soon as he’d finished shaving, he got dressed and went to the kitchen for coffee. His brain didn’t kick into full gear until that first swallow of the dark brew slid down his throat.
He was debating what to make for breakfast that Beep could swallow comfortably and decided on oatmeal, which was their old standby, so he measured out the right amounts of oats and water, added a pinch of salt, turned on the heat, and as soon as it got hot, he began to stir.
He heard a door open and knew one or both of the boys were awake. A few moments later, Marshall appeared in the doorway.
“Beep’s nose is bleeding,” he announced.
“On the way,” Johnny said, turning off the fire and putting a lid on the oatmeal. It could finish cooking by itself or he’d put it back on the heat later.
He could hear Beep crying even before he reached the room, and his heart sank. For the first time since their mother’s death, he felt her absence in a way he would never have imagined. Beep needed cuddling, and Johnny had never been a cuddler for either of the boys. He teased them. He corrected them. He fed them and loved them, and they knew he loved them, but now there was a need for more—and he felt horribly inadequate for the job.
He stopped in the bathroom on the way and grabbed a wet washcloth and a hand towel and then crossed the hall into their room.
Beep was sitting up in bed sobbing. His hair was standing on end and his eyes were so swollen he could barely see. A thin trickle of blood was seeping out of one nostril and his pillow was spotted with more of the same.
At that moment, Johnny hated those boys with every ounce of his being. He slid onto the mattress beside Beep and held out his arms. Beep crawled into his lap and went limp against Johnny’s chest as he continued to cry.
Johnny suspected he was not only in pain but also overwhelmed by the memory of yesterday’s horror and afraid of a repeat once he was back in school. He held him close as he wiped tears and blood off his little brother’s face, talking softly.
“This isn’t bad. It’s just a little blood,” Johnny said and then glanced up at Marshall, who was looking anxious, and gave him a wink to reassure him too. “He hurts and he is sore all over, Marshall, but he’s not worse, okay?”
Marshall nodded, then burst into tears.
“Oh hey! Guys, come on now. You’re breaking my heart,” Johnny said, his voice shaking. “Come here, Marshall. I need a hug.”
Marshall fell into Johnny’s outstretched arm, his shoulders shaking with muffled sobs.
Johnny laid his cheek against Marsha
ll’s head and stifled the urge to join them.
“My nose is bleeding,” Beep cried.
Johnny pulled himself together, gave Marshall a quick hug and a kiss on the top of his head, and then gave him something to do.
“Bring me another wet washcloth, will you?”
Marshall bolted from the room, wiping snot on the back of his arm as he went while Johnny tended to Beep.
“Now, let me see that little nose.”
Beep tilted his head.
Johnny gave it the once-over and noticed that the gauze that had been in his nostril was missing, probably lost during sleep.
“I see what happened, Beep. That bandage Dr. Quick put up your nose fell out. We’ll get some fresh gauze and fix you right up, okay? Are you hurting too?”
Beep nodded.
“More medicine coming up,” Johnny said as Marshall came back with a wet cloth. “That’s perfect. You go get dressed while I help get Beep settled. I made oatmeal. If you’re too hungry to wait, help yourself.”
“Can I have raisins?” Marshall asked.
Johnny grinned. “May I have raisins, not can I, and, yes, you may. You’re gonna turn into a raisin one of these days.”
Happy for the freedom of making his own cereal, Marshall threw on some clothes and bolted for the kitchen before Johnny changed his mind.
Beep shifted against Johnny’s chest and looked up.
“Are you gonna settle me now?” he asked.
Johnny grinned.
“Yeah, buddy. I’m gonna settle you now. After we get you dressed, do you think you might try and eat a little oatmeal?”
Beep frowned. “I don’t want no raisins.”
“You don’t want any raisins,” Johnny said.
Beep sighed. “I already said that.”
“I know, buddy. Now let’s get his bloody shirt off and get you a clean one, and then we’ll get your medicine.”
Johnny grimaced as he eased his arms out of each sleeve and then stretched the neck opening before pulling it over Beep’s head. The bruises were larger and darker, making him look even more fragile. He couldn’t believe that this had happened and had no idea how it was going to play out.
