The Boy That Stole My Heart

CHAPTER THREE

          His name was Logan Alexander Forscythe. He was fourteen like me though he looked so much younger which I mentioned, earning me a scowl. He was part of the school's art program and had been getting things ready for this weekend when the art club would set up and sell paintings to raise money for supplies. He had been heading out when he had the misfortune to run into Daryl and his cronies who had been feeling a bit more perverse than normal.
           I told him I would walk him home and he rejected my offer, telling me that he would walk me home instead, which all worked out since it turned out that we only lived two streets away from each other. It was strange that I had never noticed him before and said so, earning me a nod of agreement.
          "I've been homeschooled since I moved here two years ago." He explained, waving aside any fear I had of insulting him with the observation. "I bugged my moms about going until they relented."
          "Moms?" I asked with a raised eyebrow, grimacing in pain as I stumbled and he caught my elbow to steady me.
           Another nod and I was glad to see there was no shame or embarrassment in it. "I have two. Here I am."
           I looked up at his house in appreciation. It was bigger than mine. "Nice."
           "Whatever," he said shrugging it off. "Are you sure you don't want me to walk you the rest of the way?"
            I shook my head and gave him a smile. "Nah, I know how to get there. Have a good weekend."
            "Hey," he called as I walked away. "Thank you."
            I just gave a wave over my shoulder without looking back. I didn't want him to feel like it was a big deal or that he owed me for anything and I'm proud that I made it all the way to my driveway before I collapsed, vomiting onto the street, only having to drag myself about twenty feet to the front door.
          My mother looked at me in disappointment but not surprise. This wasn't the first time she has had to deal with the fallout of my actions and didn't bother chastising me, simply helping me to the couch before calling my father to come home.
          "I thought things were going to be different here," he said as he drove me to the hospital.
           I slumped in my seat, holding my aching ribs, the pain in my arm searing, with my bruised cheek against the cool glass of the window. "Me too dad.. but it turns out there are assholes everywhere."
           I was right about my arm being broken. The radius was snapped and the ulna fractured, earning me a nice little cast. I just shook my head when the nurse asked did I want some pretty color. They mentioned a few cracked ribs which was no surprise and I had to get six stitches inside my mouth but I would heal as I always did. And of course they were right. The next day was the worst.
           "Ellis, get up," my mom said from the doorway and I whimpered in pain as I sat.
           "Company?" I asked but there was no need for an answer. I had been waiting for the police ever since it happened. Third times the charm and on this occasion my mother, high powered defense attorney she was, wouldn't be able to save me.
           The trip down the stairs was possibly the worst thing I had ever felt but I wouldn't be cuffed while hanging onto the arm of my parents. I was rather surprised when I walked into the living room, of my own accord I might add, and found a woman who looked very similar to my mother instead of ten uniformed police officers . My left eye had swollen all the way shut by this point so I turned my head a bit to look at her. She wore a sharp blue pin suit with her hair in a tight ponytail, and a pair of reading glasses on her face. She stood when I entered, a very professional briefcase on the floor next to her feet.
           "Oh, my. Mr. Ellis Hadden?" She asked and I nodded. "I'm an ADA for the state of California. I'm here regarding an incident that happened yesterday."
           "Yes ma'am," I replied. "Please go ahead. I have counsel."
          She smirked. "Yes, I'm aware. Me and your mother know each other quite well. Please have a seat."
           I complied, mainly because I couldn't stand much longer, but also like my mother, her suggestions were polite commands and she had the air of someone who was used to being obeyed. 
          "You look awful," she observed, and I laughed... Painfully.
         "You should see the other guys," I told her, earning me a scowl from both my mother and father.
          She nodded, opening the briefcase. "I did, personally, all eight of them, this morning. "
          My father perked up at the number eight and I shrugged. "I could have taken seven. It was the eighth one that got me."
          "Of that I have no doubt," she agreed. " I looked at your file and it seems that you have a bit of a history of violence. You are on probation if I remember correctly and any infraction will earn you a stint in juvenile detention for a minimum of three years. Unfortunately for you everyone of them told the same story of how you came in and attacked them like a madman forcing them to defend themselves."
           My mother was stoic, my father slumped a bit, and I was silent.
           "But then I showed them this. May I?" She asked my mother before swiping a video from her phone to the television. There he was, the terrified little deer with his pants around his ankles, diaper showing, as a group of assholes laughed and jeered around him. Then there was a tornado and the camera went blurry during the altercation. I couldn't help but smile at their screams. Then the video came back as I hit the ground curling myself into a ball as they stomped on me and tried, unsuccessfully, to tear it from my grasp. "Are you okay?" I heard Logan ask before she paused it. "They changed their mind very quickly when I mentioned how many fucking sexual assault charges I was going to slap on them. How I would call in every single favor I was owed, and assured them it was many, to have them charged as adults and convicted as child molesters. How big boys like them would be nothing more than sex toys to real killers. Apparently everyone was just horsing around and there is no need to take this any further."
           My mother's stoic facade had faded with surprise and my father looked on the verge of tears. I had been into trouble, that much was true, but it had been because I had always felt as if I had something to prove. Never because I was coming to the aid of someone in trouble. Never because I was doing the right thing.
          "How did you get this video?" I asked her.
          She looked at the TV, eyes lidded in anger. "Because the boy in that video is my son. And I would burn this city to the ground in order to protect him." She looked at me then, her eyes softening and a small smile played at her lips. "And he was right. You were stupid... And very very gallant."