Chapter 3

Thomas is in big trouble. Big being an understatement. Five million dollars isn't a small debt, and it's not smaller when you have to work for it yourself. But with debts like these, who needs enemies?

 

Chapter 3

 

          I had fallen asleep in silence, inwardly thankful that Jonathon didn’t try to press the matter. When I awoke, it was to sunlight bathing my face and the smell of waffles in the air. Stretching, I turned to punch Jonathon awake but stopped short of touching him. 

          Now that he was asleep, he looked calmer and more relaxed. His black hair fell over his brow in a tousled way contrary to its usual tidiness. He seemed different while he slept, like another side of him had come out to breathe. His closed eyes looked so peaceful, and his smooth lips were parted—I realized that I was leaning toward him and quickly scooted and turned away, my face flushing. How could I even think like that? What was wrong with me? No normal guy would even look at another guy in that way, so what was I doing? Maybe it’s just fuzzy thoughts right after you get up. Yeah, that’s got to be it.

          “Yo, good morning.” Jonathon’s voice almost made me jump out of my skin. I turned around to see him stretching as well. He stopped in mid-stretch, arms over his head, and sniffed the air. “I smell waffles.”

          “Yeah, I think my mom’s cooking breakfast,” I said quickly, hoping he had just woken up. I scrambled up from the floor and padded toward the kitchen, not waiting to see if Jonathon had followed me. It wasn’t until I saw my mother that I remembered what happened last night. She was standing over the waffle iron, humming, without the slightest clue that Jonathon and I had uncovered possibly the biggest secret in her life. Thinking about this made me dizzy and I wobbled over to the nearest dining chair. My mother heard us and turned around with a big smile.

          “Good morning, boys.” She beamed. “Who’s up for some chocolate-chip waffles?”

          Jonathon strolled into the dining room to sit across from me. “That sounds excellent, Mrs. Breakfield,” he replied. We were both served a stack of waffles each. As I ate, guilt made it hard to swallow. I glanced up to see Jonathon cutting his waffles into small pieces. He caught my uneasiness and acknowledged it with a nod. He was feeling the same way, too. But we both cleaned our plates and left before my mom could give us another stack to finish off.

          We went up to my room and shut the door. Suddenly, as if by some internal force, both Jonathon and I sank down to the floor. Realization hit us like a semi-truck, making us see the full crisis we were in. “Five million dollars,” I breathed in horror, staring up at the ceiling.

          “You are royally screwed,” Jonathon said, shaking his head. Then he began to chuckle darkly. “It kind of makes you wonder what she did with the money.”

          I sat up, my imagination already going into hyperdrive. What if she didn’t use the money to pay off dad’s debts? What if she used it to continue paying for this house? What if she spent it all on charity? Or what if she spent it all on herself? The last question made me mentally slap myself. How could I even ask something like that about my own mother? I knew she could be somewhat of a ditz, but she was never selfish. But the memory of the pumps resurfaced, making me doubt.

          Jonathon’s voice broke into my thoughts.   “Hey, did you notice that your house has wood flooring in most of your rooms?” I glanced over to see him scratching the wood floor. “Carpet’s a whole lot cheaper.” I smacked his hand to stop him from picking apart our house.

          “I don’t care about our floorboards,” I snapped. “I care about getting enough money before I graduate this year.” I sighed, too depressed to keep my annoyance running. “There’s no way I can get enough jobs to work it all off. I really am screwed.”

          Next to me, Jonathon seemed to tense. “You know, working alone is really tough.”

          “No kidding. It’s not like I’m going to find little worker elves to hire, so what am I going to do?” I rested my arm on my forehead. “I’ll have to tough it out myself if I want to have a small chance of succeeding.”

          Suddenly, Jonathon grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward him. His face was only a couple of inches away from mine when he hissed: “Who said you’re going to do this by yourself? Ofcourse you won’t be able to earn enough money on your own, not unless you ask people for help.”

          I yanked my wrist back and sat up. “What, are you saying I should go around begging for support? I don’t need the whole neighborhood knowing my family’s in debt to a gang.”         

          Jonathon sat up across from me. “No, moron. I’m saying you need to ask your friends for help. You’d probably die trying to juggle five jobs with school.”

          “And what happens when that gang leader finds out that other people are helping me? He’d more than likely kill them as well. No, I don’t want other people getting hurt because of our mistakes—.”

          I barely got the words out of my mouth when Jonathon’s fist connected with my jaw. The punch wasn’t enough to slam me to the floor, but it still hurt. I whipped my head up just in time to have Jonathon grab me by the collar. His eyes were narrowed and his face was eerily dark. “I hope that knocked some sense into you. Now listen, Thomas. If you had real friends, they’d help you with anything as long as it’s the right thing to do. But since you don’t trust anyone enough to ask them, you’ll never know who would help you and who wouldn’t. If you continue to stay in that shell of yours, everyone’s going to eventually look like an enemy. So you’ve got two choices. One is that you tell your friends about this and have them help, or you can take this whole burden on yourself, fail to pay back the debt and either be murdered or live in paranoia all your life.”

          I couldn’t help but sneer. “Well if this is what happens when someone cares, then it makes sense that I’m paranoid.”

          Jonathon shoved me back to the wall, knocking the breath out of me. “Then how the hell can you call people ‘friends’ when you don’t even let them prove that they have your back?” he shouted.

           I could tell he was furious. But not only was he furious, I saw that he was hurt and the pain in his voice surprised me. I realized how immature I sounded. There was finally one person who actually wanted to help me get through this and I was pushing him away. Damn, how many times have I missed an opportunity like this?

          “Thomas, what are guys doing up there?”

          We both started when my mother called. We had been too wrapped up in our argument to realize how much noise we were making. “We’re rehearsing for a play!” I yelled back, clenching my teeth at the inconvenient timing.

          There was a moment of silence, then: “But you’re not in drama, dear!”

          I closed my eyes in an effort to escape this awkward situation. It didn’t work. “It’s for English class!” I shouted. My voice cracked in desperation at the last syllable. When it was clear that my mom wasn’t going to ask any more questions, I opened my eyes again to face Jonathon.

          Neither of us said anything; only glaring at each other. Jonathon’s eyes were hard, yet pleading. I didn’t know how I looked, but I was the one to turn away first. 

          “Sorry,” I muttered. 

          Jonathon let go of my shirt. He ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Yeah, same here,” he sighed. When he didn’t go on, I decided to fill in the silence.

          “You know, Carson’s at a soccer game right now so we’ll have to talk to him later; but Ren’s still home.”

          Jonathon didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he heaved himself off the floor. “Better now than never,” he said, striding to the door. He glanced back to see if I was following. “Are you going to get ready or wait there the whole day?” he asked when he saw that I hadn’t moved. I scrambled to my feet and dashed out the door, tugging Jonathon’s sleeve with me. 

 

          We sat in Ren’s room while we talked, away from his parents’ ears. His room was everything anyone would have expected from him. Bookcases lined the walls and an office desk sat in between them, complete with desk lamp, computer monitor with hard drive and pencil/pen holders. Even his bed was neatly made. At this point, I was close to fainting in disbelief. Ren noticed my slack jaw and laughed. 

          “Creepy, isn’t it?” he said. “I bet you thought my room would be a total pigsty, like Carson’s. Well, it’s not true; except for Carson’s room being a huge trash hole. My parents expect, at the very least, a clean room from me so that they can show it off to visitors. Go figure. Anyway, what was it that you guys wanted?” Ren pulled his legs up to his chin while sitting on his office chair. I exchanged glances with Jonathon, then he elbowed me in the ribs to help me start. 

          I inhaled slowly, calming myself. “First of all, Ren, if I asked you to help me with something really dangerous and life-threatening, would you agree to?” 

          Ren thought about it for a minute, brushing his lip with his thumb. Then he asked, “Is it illegal?”

          I shrugged. “Not specifically.”

          “Count me in, then. It’s boring enough around here without having to obey the law all the time.”

          I sighed with relief and glanced at Jonathon, catching an I-told-you-so look on his face. Then I turned to Ren and began to explain everything that had happened with the gang.

          I finished ten minutes later, watching Ren as he nodded. It was slightly unnerving; telling Ren what was going on and having him not say a word. Now it was like waiting for the results of an exam. Somehow, it felt like we were about to fail.

          Finally, Ren spoke: “So, what you need to do is raise five million dollars by the end of the school year, correct?”

          I nodded.

          “Then,” continued Ren, “that means you only have seven months before your deadline. Hmm.” He tapped his knee as he contemplated the odds. “It looks like you’re screwed,” he concluded. 

          I scrabbled for a hopeful idea. “What if we set up foundations?”

          This time Jonathon spoke up. “Like what? The Help-the-debtors foundation? Or maybe the Donate-a-vast-majority-of-your-wealth-to-random-teens organization would attract more contributions.”

          “Hey, it was your idea to ask people for help! And now you’re being pessimistic about it?” I pushed Jonathon off the edge of Ren’s bed while he laughed. I turned back to Ren. “We could try car washes and other simple things. Maybe even charge other students to do their homework for them.”

          Ren clapped his hands in mock glee. “Yeah, that’s a brilliant idea for you, but guess who’d be stuck with doing the work?” 

          “I don’t know. Maybe Carson could help out a bit,” I said, shrugging. All three of us busted up laughing. We had barely calmed our selves down when the doorbell rang.

          Several seconds later, the door opened and Carson stepped in. “What’s up, Ren? Your mom told me you had other people over,” said Carson. Then he saw me and Jonathon. “Hey, Thomas! It’s been a while since we’ve all been at Ren’s house, huh? Oh, and you brought that one kid, Johnny, right?”

          “I prefer ‘Jonathon’,” Jonathon replied stiffly.

          Carson settled himself on the bed, to my other side. “It’s fine, no need for formalities. So, what are you guys talking about without me?”

          I bit my lip. For some reason, I didn’t feel like telling Carson what was going on. More than likely, it was my suspicion acting up again, but I felt Jonathon tense beside me. Did he not trust Carson either? When neither of us said a word, Ren took the liberty of filling Carson in, pausing once to see if we wanted him to stop. We didn’t object and he kept talking. Five minutes passed when Ren completed his explanation, excluding some parts that he thought were unneeded. Carson whistled, leaning back on his elbows as if it were too much to take in. Knowing Carson, it probably was.

          “Let me get this straight,” he said, turning to me. “You need to raise five million dollars to pay back a loan? Why would you need that much money?”

          I need to come up with a plausible lie, I thought. “My father wanted to start mining for diamonds on a lot that was said to be filled with them. After mining the land, all he came up with was clay and unrewarded funds that needed to be paid back.” I quietly added, “He died before he could repay his debts.” Part of that was the truth. His father did want to dig up that lot to see if the rumors were true, but he wasn’t stupid enough to spend that much money on folklores. 

          Carson seemed to take the lie, to which I patted myself on the back for. Then Ren asked Carson, “Do you have any ideas on how to raise the money?” 

            We waited as Carson clasped his hands in thought. “Got it!” he exclaimed after a minute, making us all jump. “What if we got some spy gear and head down to the National Bank—?” I hit him in the face with a pillow before he could finish, not even batting an eyelash. He grabbed the pillow and thumped me with it several times until I couldn’t keep a straight face anymore. “What?” he asked. “I gave you my idea; do you have something better?” Carson was beginning to laugh as he swatted the back of my head.

          “You know,” said Ren thoughtfully, “they pay big money to boys who sell themselves to clubs.”

          Complete silence filled the room. The pillow Carson was holding flopped on the floor as we stared at Ren, who was picking at his toes. He looked up.

          “Just a thought,” Ren said, holding up his palms in a defensive gesture. “I was thinking out loud about quick ways to make money. But that doesn’t mean you should rule out the idea.”

 

 

          For several weeks, we hosted  car washes, garage sales and even bake sales that my mom helped out with (we were careful to sell pastries away from our school district). Although we weren’t raking in the dough as fast as I wanted, we were doing better than if I had taken on the project by myself. So far, we had managed to raise seventy thousand dollars. Even though almost all of us knew why we were doing this, neither of us could help but have fun. By the time winter break came, all four of us were a team; Carson and Ren had finally accepted Jonathon as part of our circle.

          The dismissal bell rang, giving all the students permission to leave the academy for break. I pushed back my chair, smiling at the prospect of telling my friends about my newest money-making idea. I ran to my locker to grab my book bag and then down the hall towards Jonathon’s locker when I was tugged backwards by my bag strap.  Needless to say, I would later find a shirt imprint on my chest when I got home.

          “You overshot,” said a smirking Jonathon, letting go of my backpack strap. I wheezed and rubbed my shoulder in response. “I’ll meet you at the front doors if you don’t mind waiting,” he said, “I’ve got some council stuff to do. It won’t be long.” 

          Oh, right. Jonathon was the student council president, elected a few weeks after his arrival. To be honest, Jonathon wasn’t exactly the most unpopular person in the ninth grade. In fact, most of the guys consider him one of the elite, an idol among the students. Jonathon had already made his way up the social ladder, sitting right next to Ren and Carson. Sometimes I wonder why they keep hanging out with me.

          “Yeah,” I said, smiling. “I’ll be out front.” I waved and made my way to the exit. I found Ren standing by the gate, stamping his feet against the cold and checking his watch. He looked up and spotted me. I hurried over. 

          “Ready to go?” he asked. Then he looked around. “Where’s Council-Man?”

          “Doing council stuff. I told him I’d wait ‘till he was done,” I answered. “Oh, hey, I wanted to tell you an idea I had. Since we can’t do anymore car washes, how about cashing in aluminum? All we have to do is pick up soda cans in our spare time. Plus it’s eco-friendly!”

          Ren nodded. “Seems easy enough. Hey, look, I’ve got to go home if I don’t want to be late for my coordination drills.”

          “Piano lesson?”

          Ren shrugged. “Call it what you want. Either way, it’s unpleasant when your instructor insists on spitting in frustration when you don’t follow traditional inverse cadences.”

          I scratched my neck. “Uh, sure. I’ll take your word for it.”

           Ren turned to walk away, but then did a complete 360 and came back over, his hands shoved into his pockets. For a second, I cringed at the thought of Ren sharing more nauseating habits of his piano teacher. But a second look at his face showed slight embarrassment. Ren took a few moments to study the sky, and then spoke. “Just so you know I have nothing against it, Thomas. In fact, if you need it, I’ll do my best to be supportive.”

          I thought for a moment, just in case I missed a bit of earlier conversation. When I was sure I hadn’t, I replied with a polite “huh?”

          “I know it’s kind of embarrassing to talk about, but I’m just letting you know the thing between you and Jonathon is completely fine with me.” His face turned grave. “Although, if you start trying it on me, you will find yourself stranded on an island with a volleyball and no answers. Got it?” 

          I was dumbstruck. “Huh?” 

          Ren just sighed and waved his hand as if brushing the matter aside. “It’s all right; don’t worry your head about it. I thought I should just say something. Anyhow, I’ll see you later.” This time, Ren turned around and walked home, leaving me alone to stare in disbelief. If it wasn’t for the person talking behind me, I would have probably stayed like that until I was hungry enough to go home.

          “So, Breakfield, how’s work going for you?”

          I spun around and came face-to-shadowed-face with the last person I wanted to see in my life. The Red Admiral was leaning on a gate pillar, looking like the loan shark he was. I glanced around the courtyard to see if even one person noticed him. Nope, everyone was unaware of the obvious threat that slouched in school property. I made a mental note of coming to school with a bomb strapped to my back, just to see if the academy staff actually noticed. If I ever got the chance. 

          “So far, so good,” I replied. I backed up a couple of steps. If I was lucky, he’d step out of the shadows and into the clearing to close in the gap. The boss shrugged himself off the wall to take a step, but then planted his foot back where it was. He stuck his hand into his pant pocket, shifting the hem of his sportsjacket to reveal a gun holster.

          “Don’t try any bullshit with me,” the Red Admiral said, smirking. “I know most of your little kid tricks. I’m not dumb enough to draw attention to myself. Besides, I’m not here to collect anything. Yet.” He said the last word with a tone so sinister, it gave me goosebumps. He continued. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m still watching and making sure you don’t do anything stupid that might cost you a life or three.” The boss’s smile widened, revealing several gold teeth beneath his neatly trimmed mustache. I began to sweat, running options through my head. It didn’t seem like he was planning to kill me right on the spot, so leaving would be considerably easier. After a moment, I gathered all my self-control and courage. I glanced down at his shoes for a fraction of a second and looked back up to the boss, having the audacity to even shrug.

          “Nice socks.”

          In the time it took the boss to glance downward at his feet, I was already running across the street. As my sneakers hit the asphalt pavement, I heard the Red Admiral’s voice, carried all the way to my ears by the sudden gust. “You just keep running, Breakfield! One day, you’re going to stop. When you do, I’ll be waiting right there. Waiting to wring you dry of everything you’ve got!”

          I didn’t stop running until I reached my house. I didn’t even stop running when a huge dog ran in front of me. If I weren’t so out of it, I probably would have stopped right in my tracks and found another way home. Instead, I kept running and jumped over the monstrous beast. It was probably one of the coolest moments of my life and I wasn’t in the mood for building confidence. I stumbled onto the front porch, the cold December air piercing my lungs with each gasp. As I reached for the door handle, my knees buckled. I realized that we were still so far away from our goal and it was already the end of the first semester of the school year. At the rate we were going, we had no hope of ever meeting our goal by the time we graduated high school, let alone ninth grade. Time didn’t mean anything to me now. All I knew was that I was conned at the very beginning. We never had a chance.

          Tears swam in my vision, but I didn’t let them out. I began to sway, the pressure in my head overcoming the cold and my balance.   I felt myself fall sideways when an arm caught me. Nothing mattered to me at the moment, so I didn’t bother even trying to look up at the person kneeling next to me. All I felt was numb. Numb from our coming failure, numb from my false hope and possibly from the cold. Despite this numbness, I couldn’t help but hear someone shouting in my ear.

          “What do you think you’re doing?! Do you have any idea how long you’ve been out here? My God, your lips are nearly blue!”

         

            

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

-headdesk- Okay, despite that really retarded summary up top, I need to know what else needs to be shoved in my face.