Ch. 16

One thousand, three hundred and eleven dollars and seventy-four cents. Plus four sticks of gum, two lolly pop sticks and a few french fries. That's the contents of the jars from the cafeteria and it's the most successful week long fund raiser our school has ever had. Well, actually one and a half weeks, but still. It took Tom, Lauren, myself and four other student council members just over three hours to count and roll all the change. We could have taken it to one of those machines, but they charge a fee and we need all the cash we can get.

The money gets locked into the school safe overnight, and in the morning one of the secretaries will take it to the bank to deposit. All in all, it was way better than I could ever have hoped.

"Come on, guys, I'll drive you home!" Lauren says, clutching her cute pink Prada purse. It happens to match her heels and her miniskirt, and her ponytail is switching behind her as she looks back and forth. It's kind of hypnotic in a nauseating kind of way.

"I think I'll just take the bus," Tom says, slowly backing away.

"It's past six. The bus doesn't run out this way any more," she correctly points out. "Everyone else has rides, it's one of the rules for council. Now come on."

I know why Tom doesn't want a drive. I know he's embarrassed by where he lives. As much as I'm embarrassed by my house, at least it's my house. His group home is very obviously something institutional.

I can see him trying to think of a way out, but then he stiffens up and just says, "Fuck it. Fine, Lauren."

Her nose curls up a bit, distastefully, "Yeah, don't say thanks or anything."

We follow her out to her car in the parking lot, and it's a freaking Lexus. Not a really expensive one, mind you, but more expensive than anything I've ever been in before. It even has leather seats.

"Nice car," I say politely.

"Oh, yeah, it gets me around anyway. It's not the one I wanted, but this one has a better safety rating," she says offhandedly. I'd love to tell her that the last car my mom owned had a piece of wood covering a hole in the floor, great for spitting out gum, but a bit unnerving in the case of sudden stops, but there's really no point.

I take the back and give Tom the front. Not that I'm trying to, but I study the back of his head and the curve of his neck where it meets his shoulders like it's going out of style, while he gives Lauren directions. At one point he coughs and I look in the mirror, where he's caught me staring at him. Blushing, I look away and blankly stare out the window as it fogs up from my breath.

We pull up out front of a very large converted house in a really sketchy area of town. I mean my neighbourhood is bad, don't get me wrong, but this is the kind of area where there are crackheads taking shelter in doorways. 'Safe Horizons,' the lit-up sign on the scrubby lawn announces, but it seems like a complete misnomer. I've already seen Tom's bruises, there really isn't much safe about this horizon. It's completely and utterly depressing, from the bars on the windows fighting with the cheery yellow curtains, to the very institutional metal door with safety glass. All I want to do is hug Tom and make it all go away. He is so fucking brave.

"Thanks, Lauren. Later, 95." Tom says quickly as he exits the vehicle. Lauren locks the doors behind him, but waits. He makes a dash up the broken concrete walkway and buzzes at the door until it opens and he is swallowed into the shithole where he currently resides. I hope to all that is good that he gets into a university far away from here. I give Lauren directions towards my house, which isn't too far away, but far enough for things to be a bit better.

"I didn't realize..." Lauren's voice tails off as we drive away. "Why the hell is he there?" She asks with fury in her voice. "I mean he used to go to my church. His parents still do."

"They kicked him out." It's not my place to say if she doesn't know.

"But he's a great student, and so smart, maybe a bit pissy. They can't disown him for not going to church," she presses, as she turns down a residential street, taking us further from Tom's.

"Well, apparently they're really religious and they didn't agree."

"I just feel like an idiot. Here I am complaining about my car and you two..." she trails off again, struggling to find someway to cover the inappropriate remark she was going to make.

"Will get scholarships and go to university." I finish her sentence. "But not everyone is as educationally minded as us, so I'm glad you helped with our fundraiser." I don't really want to get her to suddenly take an interest, I just want out. "Mine's just up on the left, number 92."

She pulls up to the curb, and for once I'm thankful for my house. It's not much, but I am happy to have it, for my mom to have had the presence of mind not to lose it. "Thanks for the ride, Lauren."

"Take care, Justin."

After seeing where Tom lives, I head inside my house and work on revising my essay yet again. I'm inspired.

....................................................

"Okay, people. New helmets!" Mr. Sway calls, opening a large box in our portable. Because we were so successful with our fundraiser, we all get new helmets and locks for our bikes. Both really good items to have.

Ms. Francis tosses us each helmets and we all adjust the straps and make sure the foam inserts are in the right spots. We all look like giant twits wearing them, but again, it's something new and exciting. I've been handed a red and black helmet, whereas somehow Tom got a blue one that emphasizes his eyes.

"How do I look?" Kyle asks, as he cocks his head at a jaunty angle, lime green helmet perched on top.

"I think it might be too small for you," I say with a grin as I try to straighten it out. There is no way this thing will sit on his huge head properly.

He ends up trading with Faith, who has an all black helmet that's way too large, and she's pissed because she's going to have to wear some colour. I have to admit, the green doesn't do much for her sallow complexion, but whatever. It's all in the name of safety.

"Today we are adding an additional loop to our route, so we should be doing ten kilometres easily," Ms. Francis says, showing us the new directions.

"Seriously?" Julia groans.

Andi flexes and stretches in her yoga pants, "Well, I'm happy for the exercise, I want to be toned enough to make cheer again, and tryouts are in a few months."

"Oh, I think you're plenty toned," Kent comments, checking out Andi's assets.

"For God's sake. Andi, you know you're hot, stop showing off," Faith grumbles, rolling her eyes.

"Enough," Mr. Sway cuts in. "Everyone is in better shape since the start of the course, and you're all going to be toned whether you like it or not. Now hit the bikes."

"I'd like to hit that," Kent mumbles to me, with one more appraising glance at Andi's butt as we all walk out to the bikes.

"Don't traumatize the poor boy," Jen says, putting her arm over my shoulders. Now it's my turn to roll my eyes.

"Just ride people," Ms. Francis says.

...............................................................

At the end of the day, our bikes are put away and everyone is getting ready to go, but I hang back. I have my essays with me today for Ms. Francis to edit for my scholarship applications. I've got five different essays and I think they're all pretty good, even though English is definitely not my best subject.

I'm standing near the door with the class filing by me, and I'm trying not to panic. The best way to write these essays was to write from the heart, so I have, but I also feel totally exposed. It's one thing for some faceless person at a foundation or something to read what I've written, it's another for my teacher that I see every single day to read it. Because I've been as honest as I can and it's completely scary to be that vulnerable.

"Ms. Francis?"

"Yes, Justin?"

"Could you read these for me and maybe edit them?" I put the folder of essays down on her desk.

"Sure," she says with an eager smile.

"Ummm, they're pretty personal, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone..." I mumble, my face red. Maybe I shouldn't have bothered?

She can tell I'm thinking about changing my mind, so she pulls the folder towards herself. "Of course not, Justin. I promise."

"Thanks."

"I can have them back to you by tomorrow."

.................................................................

Sitting on the couch, I'm just idly flipping through channels when a car pulls in the driveway followed shortly by my mom and Paul coming in the front door.

"Hey Justin, nice to see you again, big guy," Paul greets me. I try not to look at him suspiciously but take his outstretched hand to shake. In his other hand are some Chinese food take-out bags.

"We have some exciting news, Honey," my mom has a grin a mile wide and I can only fathom a guess as to what she's going to tell me. "But we'll talk during dinner."

"Okay," I answer, I hope I'll still have my appetite by the end of this.

There are half empty containers and heaping plates on the table when Paul pulls out a bottle of champagne. "We're celebrating tonight. Your mom and I are getting married!" he announces as he eases the cork out of the neck of the bottle.

My mom shoves her hand in my face, wagging her fingers. Sure enough there's a ring. It's actually a pretty nice one—relatively tasteful, not too garish.

"Wow, you guys, congratulations!" I try to sound really excited. After all, she hasn't been engaged in at least four years. "That's a really lovely ring, Paul."

"It was my mother's," Paul says with a huge grin, giving my mother a peck on the cheek. Huh.

Smiling hesitantly I ask the question that's really bothering me. How will this effect me? "So what are the plans?" I phrase my question in a non-confrontational way.

"Well, Paul wants us to move into his house..." my mom starts and my heart just about stops.

"But not until after you finish high school," Paul finishes. "Your mom explained your program to me, and we both realize you can't just switch schools."

I stutter in surprise at their understanding, "Th-th-thank you. That's really understanding of you both." I give them a grateful smile.

"We're going to be getting this place in shape so we can sell it, though, so you'll have to make sure to keep everything clean," Paul adds. I nod eagerly. I'm not a messy person by nature, and besides I'm still thrilled that they took my school into account when making their plans.

"We're going to have a wedding at the end of the summer, but we'll probably move right after you graduate," my mom offers.

They're both so happy, I can't help but be happy for them. "Sounds great! I'm so happy for you both!" My mom deserves someone decent, and so far, Paul's been better than most of her boyfriends.

"Oh, and I know it's a bit early for you to think about, but if you're dead set on going to university, I can probably swing a summer job for you at the plant, after all, you're family now," Paul adds.

"Really?" As much as I don't want to be a line worker, it is a great job and there are mechanical engineers that work at the plant, so I might get some actual engineering experience, too. "That would be amazing!"

After making a toast, we finish our dinner. I have a small glass of champagne, while they finish the bottle, then I clear away the dishes. God I hope this works out for my mom, and for me too, I suppose.