Freddie

I had never been to Danny's school before, and I hadn't the faintest idea where it was even supposed to be in relation to Princeton.  What was more, I failed to see how Charles could know the route so confidently when he himself stated he had never driven to this place before.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" I asked Charles.

A little smirk curved his lips, eyes centered on the icy road.  "Don't you trust me?"

"I mean, um- I suppose, it's just you're not using any sort of map or anything to get there."

"Oh, but I am!"

I looked around. "Where?"

"Right in front of my eyes," he said.

My brow arched. "What, have you got the directions etched into your glasses?"  When Charles laughed lightly, I explained, "It's like you've got mini-maps on the lenses or something.  I mean, that would certainly make sense, you know.  You never take those things off, that I've seen anyway."

"Oh, there's a reason why I don't," he hummed.   "That just isn't it."

"Mm."  I flipped through the pages of my notes and lyrics.

"But you were very close about the other part, I will give you that."

"Other part?" I repeated absently.

"As in, where I keep the maps." 

I nodded, then I took a bit of a double take. I faced him again. "Wait, you- do have maps before your eyes?"

"Sometimes.  Yes."  He nodded.

"How?"

"E-contacts."

"What?"

"E-contacts," he repeated. 

"What are they?"

Charles cleared his throat, and explained in that somewhat patronizing tone he used the other day when he had to explain to me what is meant by the "Cloud," "They're these special contact lenses that I wear, with microscopic computers embedded within them that are connected to my organization's servers-"

"Never mind," I sighed, waving my hand.  "I'm sorry I asked."

He turned a corner; we both slid a little to the right in our seats.  "Why?"

"Well, I just know it might seem I still am not current on the latest sort of, um- advancements in technology that have happened."

And I tell you, I was getting better. You could ask anyone. Even Julia would have had to admit I was slowly but surely growing more, shall we say, future-savvy. Not perfect, of course, as my use of "throw shade" earlier perhaps might have made painfully clear- but I had come a long way from being completely inept at using the Internet, for instance. Only minutes before now, in fact, I had taken Charles's phone in hand and touched the Google app thing, used it to look up the boutique that Roxie owned, then dialed the phone number provided on the place's web-page(?) to ask her not to bother coming to pick Danny up from school, as I would gladly do the honors. Charles sort of had to walk me through a spot or two in the process, true- but I did it all myself. It was a lovely shot in the arm, a small yet much-needed boost of confidence.

"It's all right, it's a perfectly reasonable thing to be curious," Charles assured me.

I shrugged.  "Perhaps, it's just- I'd never heard of- can't even imagine, really, um, people putting computers in their eyes, but I mean- God knows how long those things have probably been on the market up till now, so-"

"They're not."

"Hm?"

"People won't be sticking computers in their eyes for a number of years yet, Rick. Don't worry."

That didn't make sense. "Then- how is it you've got them?"

"Call it a perk of the job," he shrugged.

"Like the car?"

"Right. Like the car."

"All this for a security guard's position." I shook my head.  "You never did say what kind of car this is, anyway."

"I didn't?"

"No, you just said it was 'company.'"  Not that I cared, really, I simply remembered he never told me.

"I did, you're right," he nodded- but once again, did not go on to explain. It was on the tip of my tongue to press further, but Charles changed the subject before I could, "If it's any consolation, neither are my parents. Current, I mean."

"Oh, really?" I sighed.  

He nodded.  "They hate the e-contacts the most I think.  They say it makes my eyes look strange."

"How charming."

"They can be quite blunt at times," he conceded.  "I think you would get along with them quite well."

"And what could you possibly mean by that, darling?" I murmured dryly.

 He didn't answer, save with a smile. He stepped on the brakes.  "We're here."

"We are?" I peered out the window, making a small fog circle on the glass.  "Oh, we are.  Great." 

The two of us sat waiting in a long line of other cars full of parents ready to pick up their children, leading toward the front entrance of a large two-story building standing tall and proud upon well-kept grounds which might have been quite lovely indeed, if the grass all around had not already turned brown and the trees had not all gone bare for the fast-approaching winter.  It was unique enough in design to immediately give me the impression that this was some sort of private school- and an "academically superior" one at that, if the banner we passed that was boasting its national ranking was to be believed.

There she goes again, giving Danny the very best in everything, I said to myself.  Despite our situation at present, I had to smile.  Julia was such a wonderful mother- as I had always known she would have been.

I popped the car door open.  "Wait here, please."

"School's only just let out; if he's in detention, I doubt they'll just let you walk away with him yet," Charles pointed out.  "There's a chance he hasn't even started it."

"I know," I replied quietly.  "My point exactly." 

He looked at me, then nodded.  "I'll be here."

 "Thank you, Charles.  I'll be right back."

With that, I climbed out of his still nameless auto, which stood out like a sleek, canary-colored fireball in this trail of earthy grays, blacks, and blues, thrust my hands deep into my pockets and broke into a run.  The less time I spent in this frosty air, the better.  You see, I wasn't simply showing myself to be impatient- not this time, anyway.  I simply wanted to apologize on Danny's behalf, explain that I had had a heavy hand in him speaking so to his teacher.  Mr. Phantom was a very good boy, I knew; I couldn't let my own loose tongue be his downfall.

Once inside, I approached the older woman behind the window at the front.  "Excuse me, dear, where is the place where they, um- have the detentions?"

The woman's lips pursed as I asked this, as thought she was trying not to laugh.  I don't know why, I didn't see anything funny in what I had said, nor in the way I said it- but that's just me.  

"Why?  Are you here for one?" she quipped.

Instinctively I matched her tone, "Only if there's any spots open, otherwise I can come back next week."

"We'll be closed next week."

"Then you'll just have to squeeze me in today I suppose- providing of course there are still erasers or, um, chalkboards to clean, otherwise I'll go somewhere else with my business."

This time she laughed out loud. "Sorry, no erasers- and no chalk."

"Oh, right.  It's all electronic now, isn't it?"  Nice, I've just dated myself again.  My God.  You can't win them all, I suppose.

"For the most part, yes," she sighed.  "I have some pencils you can sharpen though."

"No, thank you," I smiled.  "No, really, um- there's a dear little chap who's apparently gotten himself in trouble this morning?  Danny Samuels?"

"Oh, yes, here, let me look."  Her eyes drifted down to her computer screen a moment.  "Ah, yes. Samuels, John Daniel.  Yes, he's on his way to detention- or should be."

"Where is that?"

"Are you his father?" she asked.

The question threw me off a bit.  "Oh, no, I'm just- just a friend of his mum."

"Okay," the receptionist nodded, "then I'm going to need to see some form of ID, so I can make your pass."

I whipped out my drivers license, handed it over.  She placed it into some sort of miniature copy machine, and a few taps at the keyboard later, handed it back to me while my temporary pass printed out. 

"Were you also planning to pick him up after he serves out the detention?" she asked further.

"I was."

She cringed, covered her eyes as if in apology.  "All right, then - it is my legal responsibility to have you sign these three forms, and fill out the information-"

"What for?" I protested.

"It's school policy.  You were not one of the designated people at the start of the school year to pick up Mr. Samuels, so it's required that you fill out all this jazz so we have documentation in case something should-"

"Just hand me the fucking forms," I huffed.  She slid them through, and with pen in hand I carelessly filled in the blanks with all the false information about myself that was lately passing for truth.  Forms at the university, forms at the station, forms at the school.  Forms, forms, forms.  I might as well be home after all.

"Huh," she mused while I wrote, eyes flicking back and forth from my face to her screen.  "Funny, you two do look an awful lot alike."

I froze, brows knitting in confusion while my heart inexplicably began to race.  "We do?"

She half-shrugged, a bit taken aback perhaps by my response.  "I mean- here, let me put my reading glasses on." Once she did, and took a closer look, she squinted, then shook her head.  "No.  Never mind.  It's not as much as I thought."

"Oh."  I drew a heavy sigh, and nodded. 

"I just saw the dark hair, I guess- and the smile is kind of- but, er, I don't know.  Sorry."

"It's all right."

"Hey, wait a minute, I know Danny," she realized. "That's the kid with the glasses, always smiles and waves hello when he runs past me first thing in the morning. Real sweet kid."

"Very," I nodded.

"What did he get in trouble for?"

"He, um- swore at his teacher," I explained briefly. "And that's actually sort of my fault, um- he probably- I mean, I'm rather free with the naughty words, and uh- I seem to have used them around him a bit too much.  So I'm sorry."

Her eyes widened. "Wow. That's it?"

I blinked. "What do you mean, that's it?"

The receptionist scoffed. "I mean- he got himself a detention for cursing? Once?"

I opened my mouth, then shut it.  "What are you saying?"

She cricked her finger, had me move in closer.  I leaned forward so that my forehead was almost pressed up against the glass. "In case you hadn't noticed, Mr. Dubroc-"

"Please, call me Rick."

"In case you hadn't noticed, Rick, this is Jersey.  You should hear how some of those second graders of ours talk to each other- and to their teacher."

My brows rose.  "Really?"

The receptionist nodded solemnly.  "Smarts-wise and budget-wise, we may be a fabulous school and all that, in the top thirty elementary schools on the northeastern seaboard, but- now, this is just between you and me, understand?- student-wise, we're no different from the rest.  But that Danny of yours is about as good as they come, especially at his age- and all that being said, I can't imagine that one little word one little time from any of those kids would be enough to send him to the office."

I swallowed, listening intently to every word.  "So- this is unusual."

"Very.  At least, it is to me."

"Hm."  I handed her back the filled-in forms, the wheels in my head turning much more purposefully than before.  Neither Julia nor Danny had made any mention of issues with his school, but this seemed to certainly qualify.  Of course, I wanted to know more, but the receptionist had apparently exhausted her usefulness by this point.  Anything else I'd have to learn from Danny and/or his own teacher.

That's when I heard a familiar, boyish soprano singing quietly some short distance off.  Thanking the woman, I looked up, moved a bit toward the source of song.  Sure enough, in a matter of seconds, Danny himself came around the corner.  His head was hanging, eyes trained on his purple-laced shoes, and his shoulders were hunched, one hand tightly gripping his bag's shoulder strap. 

"Psst!"  I whispered through a smile.

But the boy didn't seem to hear, instead kept heading for what I assumed to be the office.

So I tried again, a bit louder.  "Mr. Phantom!"

This time, Danny noticed.  He looked up, eyes widening.  "Freddie?"

One look at his tear-streaked, flushed face, and right away I forgot what I was smiling at him for. "Danny!" I murmured, rushing over to him.  "My dear boy, what's wrong?"

"I got in trouble," he said. 

I nodded.  "Yes, I heard- but I tell you, it's nothing to be too upset about-"

"Yes, it is, I - I never had a detention before, I never said that word before, I- just got so mad and now she's gonna kill me."

"Who will?  Your mum or your teacher?"

"Mom."  He wiped his face on the back of his sleeve and sniffed. 

He was taking all this so seriously I found it a strain not to smile.  "No she's not-"

"Yes she is!" he cried.  "She's gonna kill me so hard."

"Danny, please calm down," I said as gently as I could manage; I hated seeing the boy so frightened.  "This is the first time this has ever happened, certainly she'll go easy on you.  Don't cry."

He shook his head vehemently.  "It's not just this, it's a whole bunch of other stuff, I am in so much trouble."

I cocked my head.  "What other stuff?"

Danny looked at me a moment, then with another little sniff he managed, "The- the emails, the ones she sent to Mom about me, plus the other things-"

"Emails?"  I frowned.  "What kind?"

He shivered.  "The emails about how I'm crazy and I need a psychiatrist or something-"

"What?" This I said rather loudly, so again I repeated, in a softer tone, "What?  She wants you to see a doctor?"

"Something like that."

"Why?"

"I dunno.  She just thinks I'm nuts I guess."

"Who sent them?  I mean the emails."

"Same lady I cussed at. Ms. Rydinger."

I could feel my eyes narrowing dangerously.  "She- told you you were mad?"

"Pretty much," he nodded.  "She said I needed fixing."

My hands clenched.  "Fixing, eh?"

"Mm-hm.  Why?"  He studied my face; I can only imagine what my expression must have been, because some of the color left his flushed cheeks, and very timidly he asked, "What are you gonna do?"

Before I could answer, a man whom I assume was the principal or something stuck his head out of the office door and announced, "Mr. Samuels, we are waiting!" 

"Y-yes sir," Danny mumbled, trotting away from me, resuming his little song.  For just a moment I strained to make it out, but he was singing in too quiet a voice for me to determine the tune.

As for me, then, I stood back upright, and set my jaw. I went back to the receptionist, my voice cooler than steel as I asked, "I beg your pardon, darling, but- where might I find the classroom of one Ms. Rydinger?"

She told me.  I thanked her, then turned down the hall as per her directions.  Already I could feel my face stiffening into the mask I always applied just before I knowingly entered upon hostile territory.  I slowly flexed my hands, while my stride became longer and more intentional. 

By the time I found Ms. Rydinger's room, I was ready.  Her door hung slightly ajar, the light shining through the cracks.  I rapped three times against the frame.

"Come in!" called a woman's voice so high-pitched it sounded more like a squeak.

Slowly I pushed the door wide open.  There, behind the desk about ten feet across from me, sat what appeared to be a beached whale dressed in a most unbecoming bright pink blouse.

"You must be Ms. Rydinger," I crooned in as smooth and disarming a voice as I could, putting my hand towards her. "How do you do."

"I am," she smiled, staying right where she was as I crossed the floor to shake her hand.  "And you are?"

"My name is Rick," I replied, slathering another layer of honey onto my voice.  "So charming to meet you at last, my dear, I've heard so much about you."

Her sagging pale face turned the same color as her shirt. "Oh, well- thank you," she stammered.  "I'm afraid I- don't know who's been telling you about me, but-"

"Oh, darling, there's nothing people haven't said about you," I interrupted.  "Truly you are as unique as they come, the sort of person one does not easily forget."

Ms. Rydinger swallowed the bait whole.  "You're too kind," she giggled.  I had not let go of her hand, but she still had yet to so much as try and pull away.  Already I had this woman trapped and she did not have the first fucking clue. 

This was going to be so beautiful.

"You caught me just in time, I was right about to leave," she went on.  "What was it you wanted to see me about?"

"Oh, um, I just wanted to ask you, what it was that a certain Danny Samuels might have done to earn himself such a punishment as a detention.  Must have been something terribly wretched, I'm certain."

A pinprick of suspicion entered Ms. Rydinger's eyes.  She pulled her hand back.  "I see."

"No, dear, it's not what you think.  Um- it's just I came by to pick up the little urchin a few moments ago, and the story he tells is far too wild to be the real story, I wanted to hear what it was that really happened."

That did the trick.  Ms. Rydinger relaxed and told me, though in somewhat greater detail, the very same story Danny had given me before.  Mind you, even now after Danny had spilled more than one of my secrets to Julia and his little red-haired friend, I still trusted Danny much more than I did this cow sitting before me.  I knew what I was doing, in saying these things.  You'll see.

"But anyway, that's what happened," she nodded as she concluded, concern fully subsiding.  "He's a wild little thing, so unpredictable."

"Unpredictable, you say?" I repeated.

"Very.  He's something of a strain on my patience."

"I understand.  Totally.  My God, the things you must have to endure from that boy."

"Oh, you have no idea."

I sat back, crossed my leg over the other.  "I mean, after all, he likely doesn't focus at all on his work, brings home the most pitiful grades-"

"Well, I wouldn't say that," she conceded suddenly. 

I cocked my head, feigned shock.  "No?"

"No, I mean- academically, he's very bright, and he's very driven.  One of my better students."

"Really," I hummed.  "Then, it must be his demeanor towards you, must be quite distracting to deal with his sort of constant rudeness every time he addresses you-"

"Uh, sometimes- rarely, actually, only once before today have I ever had to deal with his attitude at length, and that was over whether or not he could write his essays Prince-style," she admitted.  With a little laugh and shrug, she added, "I have a couple of students who are much more smart-mouthed- one I had to deny a whole recess once, because I caught her on her phone, and totally refused to put it away when I asked her to."

"Detention during recess.  What a fabulous idea!"

"Well- no, more like timeout.  She had to stand against the wall the entire time, but that was all."

I blinked.  "So that didn't go on her record?"

"No."

"But Danny's detention- does." My fingers drummed against my knee.  "Right?"

Her mouth tightened somewhat.  My tone was still as sugar-sweet as before, but I have a feeling the look in my eyes was becoming less friendly, the more she said.  When she spoke again, her own voice sounded much more uncomfortable, more defensive.  "Then again, he didn't get in trouble exclusively for his use of the f-word."

My mouth twitched.  She was changing her story now.  "Oh, yes?"

"Yes.  It was kind of a buildup of things, honestly."

"Things like what?"

"Um-" she hesitated a moment, then blurted, "I'm not sure I like the way you're interrogating me, Mr. Rick-"

I spoke very calmly.  "My dear, I'm doing nothing of the sort, I just want to understand what happened that you would send that boy to detention.  Thus far, I'm not seeing much reason why it's justified."

"I- don't need to justify anything to you.  It's my job, not yours."  Her eyelid twitched, as though suddenly she had developed some kind of tic.

"That's true, you don't," I sighed.  "You simply seemed so confident about Danny's other offenses just now, when only a minute before we were having a devil of a time trying to pin down what all he does that is so deserving of your disapproval."

"I told you.  He's unpredictable.  I don't ever know what he's going to do."

"Sounds more like a fault that lies with you, if a child who's not even a problem for you or the others is more than you can handle."

"Excuse me?"

I felt my mouth curve into a smirk as I switched tactics.  "It wouldn't have anything to do with those emails as well, would it?"

"Emails?"

'You know- the ones where you suggest quite categorically that Danny could very well be mentally ill, and needs professional help?"

Ms. Rydinger's nose started turning as purple as Danny's shoelaces.  "Well, he might- until his mother has him looked at, there's no way to know!"

"You seem rather convinced he is, I think."

"I know the signs.  And Danny shows some of them."

"Really!  My dear, I hadn't any idea you yourself had a degree in psychiatry.  Certainly someone so qualified wouldn't waste their time teaching fourth grade mathematics-"

"Shut up!"  she snapped.  The message was clear: I had gotten completely under her skin.  And still I kept on.

"What is it he does, dear?  I'm curious to know.  What's he done that's indicative of his madness?"

Her mind went totally blank.  I saw it in her eyes.  In sheer desperation, she blurted, "He kissed my hand!"

I couldn't take it anymore.  I absolutely burst out laughing. 

"Stop it!  It's not funny!"

"No it isn't, you're right," I giggled, "there's nothing at all funny about a little boy kissing your hand.  As a matter of fact, that would be a sign of illness.  I stand corrected, my apologies for doubting you."

"Stop making fun of me!" she cried.

"My dear," I said, standing up so I could stroll casually around the room, "it seems to me that the only reason Danny spoke the way he did this afternoon is because he's probably quite tired of your shit- as anyone would be if they were randomly selected as your scapegoat- the sort of target of all your angst and upset over your lack of satisfaction, or success, or whatever it is that must trouble you day in and day out about this tragic situation you are forced to refer to as your life."

"I don't have to sit here and take this harassment from you!  Get out!"

"I will, and gladly- as soon as you give the office a ring and expunge the detention from Danny's record and let him get on with the Christmas holiday the way your other, lesser monsters are likely doing this very moment."

"FINE!" she cried.  "Fine, I will, if it means so damn much to you!"

"It does," I nodded.  "Thank you very much."

"Who do you think you are, to just come in here and treat me like this?" she demanded. "You're his father, aren't you?"

"No, darling, unfortunately that honor is not mine," I said, the mention of the man suddenly sobering me up a bit. I took a deep breath, then continued, "I'm simply here to tell you that the way you have chosen to sort of handle Danny is hardly fair, especially when it comes to the other pupils-and to suggest that in the future, whatever hard feelings you may harbor towards my- ahem, towards that little boy or his mum, it would be a better idea for you to keep them out of  the classroom." 

I smiled, but sincerely this time.  "After all, you don't want to deal with me again, do you?"

"I certainly don't," she said, voice quivering with anger.

I nodded, then turned toward the door- then stopped, faced her again, came closer to the desk, and bent over her.  All she did was stare at me with cold, furious eyes.

I put my hand out once more.  "Merry Christmas, Ms. Rydinger."

Very begrudgingly, then, she put her hand forward as well- only for her eyes to come close to falling out of their sockets, as I took hold of her hand, drew it to my lips, and with a wink, kissed it.

The complete, weary confusion written all over her face as I turned away for the final time, I found quite satisfying indeed.

Strangely, not once during that last ten minutes did I ever consider that I was interfering in matters that did not concern me, it didn't even cross my mind that I should not have involved myself or stuck my neck out for a child to whom I could claim no ownership.  All I kept thinking was that helplessness in Danny's eyes, remembering how he and his mum stood alone against the world with no one who could, or would, stand up for them. 

For I knew exactly what that felt like.  I had known that feeling ever since I was a boy, the first time I ever set foot on that boat to leave Zanzibar, when my parents sent me off for my first year at boarding school.  It was a feeling I still lived with, because it was something that had become part of my everyday life.  It was a valuable lesson I learned in those days, taught me that the only person who could really be true to me and to whom I could be true in return, was myself.  Julia was right, I wasn't necessarily alone, I was surrounded by so many, and I had a small circle of people I could more or less comfortably call friends- but in the end, it all still came down to me.

But to be honest, I would not wish that sort of life on anyone- least of all Danny and his mother.  Whatever she felt for me at this point, I loved them too much for that.  So with what little time remained, while I could still be able to help, and protect them in some form or fashion- I would, and happily at that.

As I came nearer to the exit, the office door opened.  That same bespectacled boy emerged, his expression a mix of confusion and relief. 

"Danny?" I called softly.

He looked around a minute or two, before he saw me- and a huge grin spread over his face as he marched right up to me, hands clasped behind his back. 

I gestured toward the front.  "Come on, let's go.  Charles is waiting."

Danny didn't say anything a moment, instead just watched me closely as we walked.  Together, we stepped out into the cold, but this time around, even though our breath made no smaller clouds on the air, it didn't feel quite so chilly as it did before.  Charles's car was parked on the side; the line it seemed had thinned out while I was talking with the teacher. 

Once inside, and well on our way to the house, Danny finally spoke.  "Freddie?"

I looked up.  "Hm?"

"Was it you?" he whispered, wide-eyed.  "Did you do it?"

"Do what, Danny?"

"The- the thing that made them say I could leave.  Was that you?"

I didn't answer.  Not with words, that is.  Instead I simply winked at him, and gently pinched the little nub that was his nose.

"Freddie," he groaned, rubbing his face. 

"Sorry," I said with a smile.  "It's just right there."