Trapped

I never did tell anyone about the near-fight with the bigots in the locker room, and I haven’t spoken of it since until writing this.

Whether Mac wanted to complain to the authorities or not was his business. My reporting the scene would draw attention to me, and that was the last thing I wanted. I didn’t see Mac come out of the locker room again. It was fucked up that those racist bastards had to corner Mac like that. I would have liked to have had him on the team, but I could understand Mac’s position and the reason for his decision. I wish it hadn’t been so.

By Friday’s practice the cut list was posted in the locker room. Coach Navarro didn’t seem to want to tell people personally as Coach Dalton had for the football team. It felt cold and impersonal. Navarro was a very different person than Dalton and it would take me a while to get used to the wrestling coach’s modus operandi.

Beginning the following Monday all practices would be in the morning, which I viewed a good thing. Practice would start at five-thirty and end at seven thirty. It seemed a short practice, especially since we spent the first half-hour running, but somehow Coach Navarro packed in everything he wanted to cover.

The primary result from the locker room incident was constantly getting roughed up by the juniors and seniors on the team. Obviously they had been told of the confrontation in the locker room, but I really doubted any of them knew the whole truth. Many of those practices left me bruised and battered. Every day, someone would manage to plant an elbow in my face or a knee in my ribs. I tried to give back as good as I got, but it didn’t always work out. Jacobs was the only one of the five I’d confronted on Mac’s behalf who didn’t attack me. He avoided me completely. That he thought I was crazy was hilarious. I wasn’t crazy. I was the sanest person I knew. Well, not really, but I wasn’t insane. I just had a lot to deal with and I wasn’t going to take any crap about it.

Be that as it may, I took what came at me as best I could. It royally pissed me off, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

When I got home on particularly rough days, Kathlene and Chris would badger me until I showed them the contusions that I insisted were a normal part of wrestling practice. They obviously didn’t believe me and when I refused to name who gave them to me they dropped the subject. I started wearing t-shirts and sweats in place of my usual running shorts around the house to hide my wounds and stop unwanted questions. Kathlene and Chris made no effort to hide their disapproval of the whole situation, but I was protecting myself – and them – by keeping my own counsel. I wished they would see that and would leave me alone about it, but it didn’t happen.

Life is one big cosmic joke. It has to be. If it isn’t then why did all those girls start following me around? They were a constant distraction, getting in my way, trying to engage me in inane conversation, informing me who had the hots for me and asking if I wanted to go out with them. I swear there were over a dozen of them and they couldn’t keep their hands off of me. I finally broke down and lied, telling as many as I could that I wasn’t interested in a girlfriend because I was too busy with school and sports. Some of them took the hint and backed off, but the coquettish looks kept coming. It was much easier when they were ogling from afar or glaring with frustration. I was a very nervous puppy for a while there which did nothing to improve my mood at school or at home.

Chris didn’t come away unscathed, either. He had his own share of girls falling all over him. He followed my lead to get rid of most of them but there were always a few who didn’t know when to quit.

Chris wasn’t playing a winter sport which meant he was more likely to extend his workouts with me. Every night after school we’d lift, and Chris would join me four times a week in a heavy three-hour workout instead of the two-hour workouts we normally did. On the two-hour days we’d run and come back to work out. I typically did a dumbbell routine while Chris completed his homework. When he had a question, he’d come out to the weight room and ask after I completed the set I was working on.

I rarely had homework to do because I finished it up in class, usually before the assignment was given. Nothing was remotely challenging to me, so I had a propensity to become bored with the class and tended to daydream. The only two teachers who seemed to really care were Dr. Connor and Mr. Dayton. Dr. Connor would regularly ask me a question when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, but he never caught me out. I kept an eye on the board while he was teaching, so I knew the answers when he’d call on me. Sometimes I took great pleasure in baiting the stodgy old coot.

Mr. Dayton would get my attention in a variety of surreptitious ways to let me know he knew I was drifting off without calling attention to me. Other than that he let me be. The message I got was if I kept my grades up I could do just about anything I want as long as it didn’t disrupt his class.

Boredom gave me time to think, which was not always a good thing. Brooding over Pete’s absence from my life wasn’t productive at all. It only made my heartache and my throat tight, followed by anger and a terrible loneliness. I didn’t hide it very well because more than one teacher paused in their lessons to ask me if I was okay. I just nodded and with a lingering look they continued with their lessons.

Mrs. Hill in Living Skills was always on top of me. She took up the habit of watching me while we were working, or so it seemed to me. The woman would pull me aside and ask very guarded questions, like how things were at home and if I was doing okay. I told her everything was fine and that I just had a lot on my mind. She studied me with a knowing look, like she was aware of something I was not. It made me anxious.

One day in early December I was struggling with a particularly rough day, having had a brief argument with Kathlene and nearly getting myself crippled in practice. My enemies had arranged it so they could "teach" me. They, of course, took every possible opportunity to hammer me, leaving me visibly bruised. I had an elbow to the cheek and it was blooming into a nice black eye. Topping that off was a speech from Dr. Connor on why it was important that I pay attention in his class. It didn’t help that he’d lectured me in front of everyone.

Mrs. Hill saw me come in glowering, snapping at anyone who came near after having just come from Dr. Connor’s class. When the bell rang she asked to see me outside. With a quiet growl of frustration I walked out the door and glared at her, waiting for her to speak.

She peered at me for a moment, watching my eyes. The longer we stood there in silence, the more agitated I became. I finally had to break the tension.

"What did you want to see me for?" I asked with a bare attempt at civility.

"Brian, I want you to accompany me to the office. Dr. Lancaster would like to speak with you."

"What’s this about?" I asked with exasperation.

"She’ll tell you," Mrs. Hill said calmly. "Please get your things and follow me."

"Fine. Whatever."

I made no effort to hide my contempt for the situation. Back in the room, I packed my book into my backpack and left without a word. Chris caught my eye on the way out, but I was so incensed I just glared at him. I couldn’t miss the hurt expression that crossed his face but any guilt I felt was overwhelmed by my anger.

The main office was just across the hall from Mrs. Hill’s classroom. We walked up to the service window and the teacher told an office attendant I was there to see Dr. Lancaster. As the woman walked back to tell the principal we were there, I stood in place with rage boiling inside my head. I couldn’t understand why I was there in the first place: I was maintaining my grades and I didn’t cause any problems. I just kept to myself.

"You may go in now, Brian."

We entered the principal’s office without comment. Dr. Lancaster was waiting for me behind her desk. Two men I’d never seen before sat in chairs against the far wall near Coach Dalton and Coach Navarro. A police officer stood near the door and shut it behind me. I was suddenly very wary, but I tried not to let it show.

Principal Lancaster sat at her desk and said, "Please sit, Brian."

I was too tense to sit so I said, "I’ll stand, thanks," in a rather sharp manner, completely annoyed at being there in the first place.

"You will sit, Mr. Kellam, and we will speak civilly. Do I make myself clear?"

Something in her quiet voice demanded I do as she asked. There was steel in this woman. I dropped my heavy backpack on the floor with a thud and sat in a chair in front of her desk, focusing my attention on a flaw in the wood. I knew if I looked at her, she’d yell at me for glaring at her. She spoke again with no hint of irritation.

"Brian, this is Dr. Edelstein, our head counselor," the older of the two men nodded, "Mr. Dodge, the vice principal, and Sergeant Manerra, the police liaison officer."

I nodded to them in acknowledgement and went back to the scratch on Lancaster’s desk. The guys sitting off to the side with Coach Dalton made me nervous. I couldn’t watch everyone at the same time and that made me uncomfortable.

"Part of the job we do as educators," continued Dr. Lancaster in a conversational tone, "is to watch the children under our care for signs of distress. Some of the teachers have observed you stalking around the halls and in class have voiced concerns that we must, by law, address. Do you understand?"

I sighed. It was going to be a long day. "Yeah. I got it."

"Some teachers believe that your home life isn’t going well. Do they have any reason to be concerned?"

I looked her in the eye and forcefully said, "No. Everything’s fine. Look. I’ve got a four-point going, and I don’t disrupt class. Everything is fine at home," I said testily. "What else do you want to know?"

"Why are you being so defensive, Brian?" Dr. Edelstein asked quietly.

"Because this is a waste of my time," I said angrily. "I could be in class now."

"Doing what?" Dr. Edelstein inquired. "Daydreaming?"

I looked away from him, not willing to go there. These teachers really had been observing me. How long had they been watching? What had they seen?

It didn’t matter. I decided to answer the question with the truth, as far as I went, anyway..

"So I’m bored," I stated petulantly. "Sue me."

The adults continued the discourse as if I hadn’t spoken

"Brian," asked Coach Dalton, "how did you get those bruises?"

"What bruises?" I asked disingenuously.

"The bruises over your torso, arms and legs. And your black eye." Edelstein replied calmly.

Black eye? I hadn’t looked in a mirror after I showered, so I hadn’t known until that point that I had a black eye. It caught me by surprise and caused me to hesitate before I responded.

"I don’t know what you mean."

Dr. Lancaster’s gaze bore into my eyes.

"Brian," Dr. Edelstein said quietly, "we can’t help you if you won’t let us."

"There is nothing to help with. There are no problems at home. I have a lot on my mind, yes, but it’s nothing that I can’t handle." I blinked at him, understanding coming in that instant. "You think I’m being abused," I stated.

"Are you?" Dr Lancaster asked carefully.

"I’m going back to class."

I stood and picked up my backpack to walk out.

"Brian, sit!" Dr. Lancaster’s voice cracked like a whip.

I paused for a moment on reflex and then continued toward the door. The police officer moved into my path, his hand out to stop me.

I backed off and yelled, "Don’t touch me! You people have no fucking clue! Quit wasting your time with me and find someone who really needs your help!"

"Come on, son," The sergeant said. "Sit back down."

I glared at him and sat on the edge of the seat.

"Brian, why are you running?" Dr. Edelstein asked. "If everything is fine, then why run away?"

"I’m tired of answering questions and no one listening to my answers," I complained sourly.

"We heard what you said, Brian, but you didn’t answer our questions and the answers you did give make us think something is really wrong for you at home. That is why we wanted to talk to you." Dr. Lancaster was finally becoming aggravated.

"I kinda figured that out," I responded sarcastically.

The principal frowned. "Brian, are you being abused at home?"

"No!" I said flatly, leaving no room for ambiguity or misinterpretation.

"Brian," said Mr. Dodge, speaking for the first time, "We would like your parents to come in to speak with us about our concerns."

"Sure. No problem. They won’t be able to help you, though. I don’t live with them."

"You don’t live with your parents?" he questioned, surprise coloring his tone.

"Didn’t get a chance to read my file, did ya," I said flippantly.

Dr. Edelstein, having observed the exchange between me and the other staff, leaned in to speak to Dr. Lancaster quietly. She nodded slightly.

"Brian, you may go back to class. Thank you for coming in."

I blinked again. "That’s it?"

"Yes," she said, "Thank you," and turned her attention to some papers on her desk. The interview was over.

I stood and picked up my pack and went back to class, more confused than ever. I could tell that everyone in the room besides the two doctors was as surprised as I. I spent the rest of the day distracted, trying to grasp the ramifications of that morning’s meeting and coming up empty.

The remainder of the week passed without event. I noticed that my teachers were keeping a much closer eye on me now that I was aware of it, but there was nothing I could do differently. I knew I wasn’t doing anything wrong in the first place.

The following week was a real bitch. Somehow word had reached my tormentors that I had talked to the principal, the veepee, and the coaches. As a reminder to keep my mouth shut, they decided an object lesson was in order and pounded me like they never had before. When Friday rolled around it was all I could do to appear to move normally. Fresh bruises covered a lot of my ribs and back in addition to my black eye. It was really difficult to keep them hidden from Navarro and Dalton because I knew both of them were watching me.

Kathlene, who had been incensed when I came home on the previous Monday with a shiner, received some sort of letter from the school saying they thought I was being beaten up or something. She asked me if I was fighting at school, and I told her no. She’d seen the bruises I was getting and had been led to believe they were from practice, which was the truth. After peering into my innocent eyes she told me to be more careful and to come to her if anything was happening to me or bothering me.

The wrestling meet that Saturday was nearly a bust for me. I had debated scratching myself from the card because those singlets we wore hid nothing and I didn’t want to reveal the extent of my attackers’ work. I wore a t-shirt under the uniform to hide the worst of it.

I was so sore I could barely do anything on the mat. The only reason I won my match was because the guy I was up against sucked. Coach Navarro watched me for the rest of the time when he wasn’t busy with another wrestler. It was disconcerting to say the least. I waited until I got home to shower that day as an extra precaution.

The following Monday, I had just finished my work in Living Skills and asked to go to the library to work on a report I was doing in Science. Mrs. Hill gave me a pass without objection.

I went to my locker to drop off my books from Math and Living Skills. As I dialed my combination, I heard my old nemesis’ voice.

"Shouldn’t you be in class, Kellam?"

"Fuck off, Brent."

He stepped closer to me, standing less than a foot away. I calmly turned to face him. He stood at least six-feet tall and I was easily six inches shorter. He glowered down on me as I glared at him defiantly.

"What did you say, Kellam?" Brent asked with a sneer.

I boldly replied, "What part of ‘fuck off’ don’t you understand, Brent?"

He tried to push me back against the lockers but I deflected his hand away from me.

"Leave me alone, Brent. I’m not in the mood to put up with your bullshit and I don’t have the time."

He tried again to push me backwards. I grabbed his wrist and squeezed it as hard as I could. He winced as my fingers dug into his muscles.

"If you don’t leave me the fuck alone," I said in a dark menacing voice, "I will rip your balls off. I swear to God I will."

He stared at me, surprise warring with anger and incredulity.

"Yeah, right," he spat.

I twisted Brent’s wrist, causing him to lean down until I stood eyeball to eyeball with him. My face was a mask of controlled rage, displaying what I was feeling. I lowered my voice and spoke grimly and forcefully.

I said, "Try me," and threw his arm away from me.

Brent stumbled a few steps before regaining his balance. Whatever Brent saw in my eyes, he walked away without a word, cradling his wrist with his other hand. As I watched him retreat, I felt dizzy and my head started pounding. I leaned back against the wall to steady myself. Having to confront everyone about everything was extremely fatiguing.

"Brian Kellam to the office please, Brian Kellam, please come to the office."

Oh, God. What do they want now? I thought wearily.

I felt my shoulders slump. With a frustrated sigh, I closed my locker and went to the office. The police sergeant was waiting outside and approached me as soon as I entered his sight.

"Good morning, Brian. Dr. Lancaster and Dr. Edelstein would like to see you."

"I thought we settled this last week."

He shrugged and walked me across the entrance hall, leaving me in a small counseling room containing a table and shelves lined with college and university brochures. I leaned back in a chair and opened the book we were reading in English as a distraction if nothing more. The cop sat across from me and watched me read until I got too nervous and had to put the book down. I couldn’t sit still. I felt like a trapped rat and I needed to move, but there was no room. My mind raced to find something that would let me walk.

"I need to go to the bathroom."

"After you," the sergeant said as he stood.

I rose and went to the restroom, which was just around the corner. The guy even came in with me, but he didn’t watch me actually urinate. When I was done, I washed my hands before walking the long way back to the counselor’s office. When the sergeant started to say something I explained the situation. He acquiesced to my need and was content to follow me through the Commons halls and around to my locker. I opened it up for no reason and closed it without taking anything out of it. Sergeant Manerra watched me with a hint of a sympathetic expression.

The silence was the next thing to get to me. The guy hadn’t spoken to me except in a direct response to my question and it irritated me.

"Are you allowed to talk to me?" I asked.

"Sure. What do you want to talk about?"

Taking a gamble, I asked, "Am I in serious trouble? I mean, I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?"

"You haven’t violated the law, if that’s what you’re asking."

"No, not really. I don’t understand why I was pulled in to the office in the first place."

"Yes you do, Brian," the sergeant said, his frown adding weight to his words. "You’re not a stupid kid. You know exactly what’s going on here."

"I’m not being abused!"

"Maybe not in a manner you recognize, but something doesn’t add up. I could tell that last week and it was the first contact I’ve had with you."

I discontinued the conversation, examining what the sergeant had told me. He knew how intelligent I was, so it was a fair bet all of them did. Playing dumb would do me no good. What I didn’t understand is why they kept insisting I was being abused. I knew that no one was abusing me. Sure, those pricks in practice had a good time at my expense and that’s really where the bruises came from for the most part, but I couldn’t tell them that. There was no way I could rat on those guys. Things would get worse if I did. Besides, it was just guy stuff, not abuse.

Sergeant Manerra followed me back to my holding cell. I sat down again and closed my eyes, attempting to relax and force my brain engage. I really didn’t know what was going on except for the questions they had asked in the office. To my displeasure, the only plan of attack I could come up with was to play things by ear.

Five minutes later Kathlene arrived. She was led in by one of the office attendants. Sergeant Manerra walked out after greeting her so we could speak privately.

"Are you okay, Brian?" She asked as she moved around the table to sit next to me. She was obviously uneasy and troubled that she had been called to the school in the first place.

"I’m fine, mom," I replied.

"Are you sure?"

I growled to myself. "Don’t you start, too," I said impatiently. "No one hears me. I said I was okay!"

"Brian Andrew Kellam, don’t take that tone with me," she said crossly. "I asked because I am concerned and want to be certain. You’re obviously angry and agitated, so I think I have a right to my questions, don’t you?"

I dropped my head. "Yeah. I’m sorry. I just get so f..."

She arched an eyebrow.

"...reaking angry when people don’t listen to what I tell them."

"I listen, Brian. I always listen to what you are saying, even if I don’t necessarily like the way it’s being said," Kathlene said pointedly.

I blushed. "I know. I just...."

Kathlene completed my sentence. "Get angry. I know, honey." She put her hand on my leg to stop it from bouncing with the tension I was feeling, something I hadn’t even been aware of. "You have a lot of anger inside of you, Brian. Sometimes it hurts and not just you. What happened between you and Chris?"

"I don’t understand," I said with a shaky voice.

"Did you two have a falling out?"

"No. I just... need some time and space."

She eyed me critically. "Why?"

"Does it matter? There’s nothing going on between us," I confirmed, and quietly continued, "sexual or otherwise."

I added the last sentence as an assurance to her that our friendship was strictly platonic and as an affirmation for me that I was not going to fall any further than I already had for Chris.

"Brian, I didn’t think there was. You boys just seem more distant from each other than you were. How are your nightmares?" Kathlene questioned.

I struggled to school my face to a neutral expression and answered, "I’m okay." My voice sounded flat, mechanical in nature.

"That’s not what I asked, Brian," Kathlene said gently.

"I know, but that’s the answer I’m giving."

Again, my voice had no inflection. I kicked myself mentally. The tone of my voice had given me away. I knew better. I’d been faking being okay for so long now that I should be able to control myself.

She studied me. Kathlene was in her mother mode and I fully expected her lecture me, but she refrained. Instead, she hugged me tightly and whispered in my ear.

"What are we going to do with you, Brian?"

I didn’t answer. Kathlene held me in that embrace for a while longer.

"Amen," she whispered again and pulled me down to gently kiss me on the forehead.

"Do you remember that I received a letter from the school last week?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"They called me in for this meeting this morning."

I looked at the floor and the table, anywhere but at her. I hated that I had caused her to be called in from work for any reason, much less a reason that I should be able to control.

"I’m sorry," I said dejectedly.

"For what, Brian?" Kathlene asked curiously.

"For all this. For you having to be here."

"Where else would I be?" She asked seriously.

"At work. This is such bullsh…uh…a waste of time."

"We’ll see," my foster mother said cryptically.

Dr. Edelstein knocked lightly on the door and introduced himself. He said they were ready for us. Kathlene told him we’d be there in a moment. Edelstein acknowledged her and shut the door to leave us alone again.

"Brian, is there anything I should know before we go in there?"

"They think I’m being abused because of the bruises I have from wrestling practice."

"That’s all?"

"They think I’m depressed and angry," I said with sardonic humor.

She smiled slightly and asked, "Anything else?"

"Nothing I can think of at the moment."

"Okay, hon. Hang in there. We’ll be okay."

She patted my leg twice and then rose to lead me to Dr. Edelstein’s office.

As we approached the office, I happened to catch sight of Chris walking near the main office heading to Mr. Ames classroom. Likely he was getting some help with his science homework. He happened to catch my eye but before I could do or say anything he turned away. It hurt me that he did that, but I had to admit I had caused his response and I certainly had that and more coming.

Dr. Edelstein was waiting for us in the hall.

"Please come in," Dr. Edelstein invited.

His office was larger than I expected - about the same size as Dr. Lancaster’s - but it still felt claustrophobic. It was furnished with a table surrounded by chairs, a small couch and his desk with two more chairs in front of it. Sitting at the table were Mrs. Hill, Coach Navarro and Coach Dalton. I could tell the number of people was making mom more and more nervous. I led her to the couch and sat down, sitting closely to her. I was hoping the contact would help me maintain some control and comfort her at the same time. After the introductions, Dr. Lancaster spoke.

"Mrs. Forn..."

"Kathlene, please."

"Thank you. Kathlene, since the day school started we have noticed that Brian seems to be depressed and angry. We were content to monitor him as long as no violence came of it, but recently we’ve seen signs of abuse."

"I’m not being abused!" I said heatedly.

Mom patted my leg to quiet me. Again everyone pretended I hadn’t spoken at all, and it really pissed me off. I sat fuming while the conversation continued around me.

"What signs are you referring to, Dr. Lancaster?" Kathlene asked calmly.

"Brian is covered in bruises. He refuses to discuss the situation and becomes extremely defensive if the subject is mentioned. He is an angry, sullen child. When he does speak, it’s always sarcastic or caustic. He has no friends. He spends as much time as he can engaged here at school in an apparent effort to avoid going home. If you were in my place and had observed the things I just mentioned, wouldn’t you be concerned?"

Kathlene nodded slowly, and then said, "Yes, I would. I do see your point. Let’s address your concerns then, so we can let Brian have some peace. Honey, please show them your bruises and explain how you got them."

I stared at her, wide-eyed with surprise. I was thinking about refusing but she gave me "The Look". With a heavy sigh full of frustration and resignation, I stood and untucked my t-shirt. I heard a gasp and an epithet come from the table as I pulled the shirt over my head. It sounded like Mrs. Hill and Coach Navarro. I tossed my t-shirt onto the couch and began to point to the various masses of bruised flesh.

"This bruise here on my shoulder happened when I didn’t land right during a fall in practice. This bruise came from an elbow that I landed on during a scrimmage. That bruise came from a knee that landed on me when I was taken down. This one happened when I slipped with a dumbbell and hit myself. This one..."

"Brian, you want us to believe these all happened in practice?" Dr. Edelstein asked.

"Not all of them, just most of them happened in practice. Some of them are from working out at home or being clumsy. For the record, by the way, I don’t have any problems with going home. I’m just busy. I have a lot going on and I like it that way."

"I’d like the nurse to look at those bruises, Brian," Dr. Lancaster said.

"Sure. Whatever."

I sat back down on the couch next to Kathlene, but I didn’t put my shirt back on.

Coach Navarro, obviously revolted and aghast by the battle scars I wore, asked, "How exactly did you get those bruises?"

"I told you."

"If you got them from practice, why are you the only wrestler on the team with those marks?" Navarro asked with sharp brutality.

I shrugged and replied with a calm I didn’t feel. "I work hard. I get in more than my share of sparring and with people above my weight bracket. It just happens."

The two coaches glanced at each other. Dalton shook his head slightly.

"Who did this to you, Kellam," my wrestling coach demanded.

"Nobody in particular," I said with a calm that I didn’t possess. "Sometimes I don’t feel it until after practice is over and since I spar with a lot of guys I can’t remember every bump I get and who gave it to me."

"Who gave you the black eye," Coach Navarro asked.

"Oh. Jacobs did. He cross-faced me and this is what happened," I explained, lying my ass off. "It’s no big deal."

"What are you doing sparring with him?" my coach asked. "He outweighs you by forty pounds!"

"Yeah, but he’s got a lot of experience that I don’t have. He’s taught me a lot." I swallowed hard against the bitter aftertaste left from praising that skinhead Nazi fuck.

"Brian," queried Coach Dalton, "You work out a lot, right? What is your routine like? Tell us about a typical day."

I shrugged. "Sure. I get up about four-thirty, come to practice, go to school, either run or ride the bus home, work out for a while, eat dinner, and do my homework."

Kathlene looked at me as I finished my description, her face unreadable.

"That’s it?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Sometimes I run instead of lift. Chris goes with me."

"How far do you run in a normal day, Brian?" Mr. Dalton asked, his voice sounding parched.

I shrugged again. "Depends on the day. If it’s a lifting day, and I run to school, about ten miles I guess; five each way. On a running day, it’s more like eighteen if I run to school."

Coach Navarro’s eyes widened. "Did you do that when you were playing football?"

"Not really. I cut my runs at night down to about four or five miles instead of eight. Just enough to work out any stiffness."

"But nothing else changed in your schedule? You still worked out and everything?"

"Yes sir."

Kathlene tried to hide her astonishment as I explained my daily routine to them. I think she knew I was doing a lot, but not quite how much I was doing. I suddenly felt bad, as though I had been deceiving her.

"How long are your workouts, Brian?" Coach Dalton asked in a somewhat worried - if not fearful - tone.

"Depends." I answered evasively.

"On a normal workout day, how long?" Dalton asked again with an edge to his voice.

I stared at the man for a long second and then felt a squeeze on my leg. Kathlene was making it clear I should answer. She would know if I was lying, because she knew the truth.

"Ninety minutes to three hours depending on how I feel. I work out with Chris most times," I said with a sigh.

Coach Dalton shook his head slowly in disbelief.

"Let me see if I have this straight," Coach Navarro said, holding his hands up, palms toward me as if to ward off my answer, and then ticked off his points one by one. "You run five miles to school, run another two miles in practice, actually do the work in practice, go through your school day, perform in Phys Ed, then run another five miles home, and work out for three hours before doing your homework?"

"It’s not always three hours, and only if I run to school. Sometimes I run less."

"How often do you run to school?" Coach Dalton asked.

I sighed again and dropped my eyes. "Just about every morning I have practice."

"And why do you do all this, Brian?" Dr. Edelstein asked.

I shrugged again. "Because I want to keep in shape for wrestling."

The interrogation was put on hold while the nurse came in and looked over my body. The two coaches were muttering between them as I was examined. When the nurse was done, she spoke quietly to Dr. Lancaster and walked out.

"Brian, could you step out of the office so we may speak with Kathlene?" The principal asked.

I walked out of the office and closed the door behind me. After pulling my shirt on, I walked out into the hall and sat on the bench, trailed by Manerra. I was surprised to see Chris was waiting there. The sergeant stood a decent distance away allowing us some privacy.

"What are you doing here, Chris? Shouldn’t you be in class?"

"Shouldn’t you? I saw you going into the counselors’ office. I wanted to talk to you," he explained.

"About what?" I asked. "Um, Chris? I’m sorry for being an asshole lately..."

"It’s okay, Brian. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I forget sometimes." Chris said quietly.

"Forget what?" I asked.

"Why you’re living with us, everything that happened to you." Chris said simply.

"I’m not looking for charity," I said coldly.

"And I’m not giving it, Bri," Chris responded with some heat before calming himself again. "I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting with you lately. It’s unfair to you."

"What?" I asked incredulously.

"I’ve been treating you like shit," Chris said stormily. "There. I said it. Happy?"

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. You haven’t been treating me like shit, Chris. I’ve been treating you like shit. I’ve been mean to you, and I have no reason to be. It’s not your fault that all this shit happened to me." I continued more quietly dropping my gaze to the tiles under my feet. "It’s not your fault I can’t handle it all," I confessed.

I sighed deeply and stared at nothing on the floor. Once more I realized how much I owed him and his mom. Again I damned myself for having the feelings I had for him and that I could no longer be as close to him as I once had been because of those feelings. I looked up at him but when I met his gaze I quickly turned my head away, trying to hide the tears forming in my eyes. An announcement sounded over the loud speaker.

"Christopher Forn, please report to the office. Christopher Forn to the office, please."

"Looks like they want to talk to you about my habits too," I said as I wiped my eyes dry.

"What do I tell them, Brian?" His eyes were pleading for my guidance.

With a glance at Manerra, I said, "Answer their questions. Mom is in there, so she’ll know if you lie."

"She’s there? Why?"

"They think I’m being abused, Chris," I admitted.

"What? No way!" Chris exclaimed in surprise.

"Yeah. Go ahead and go. I’ll be here for a while. Maybe I’ll take a walk or something."

"Okay." He paused, genuine concern in his expression. "Bri, are you all right?"

I forced a smile and said, "Of course!"

He didn’t buy it.

I stood and walked back toward my locker. Sergeant Manerra followed me at a distance. I stopped and addressed him.

"I’m not going to run now. Kathlene and Chris are my family. I know what happens if I run."

"I’m not sure you do," he said.

"Like you said, I’m not stupid. I run, I go home to live with my parents. That is not something I want right now. You don’t need to follow me everywhere. I want to go to my locker and drop this off, okay?" I held up my English book. "I’ll be right back."

The man’s gaze left me feeling naked before him. I tried to meet it, but it was hard.

"You have five minutes. I’ll watch you from here. If you aren’t back, I’ll hunt you down," he said with a serious half-grin.

"Don’t worry. There and back. That’s it."

Sergeant Manerra nodded his assent, and I walked down the hall, very conscious of his eyes boring into my back. A sense of relief came over me when I turned the corner to my locker in the Commons One hallway and was out of the Sergeant’s sight.

At my locker, I rested against the wall trying to calm my racing brain and steady my emotions. I really wanted to scream at everyone in that room that I was okay and to leave me alone but that wouldn’t have been wise and it wasn’t going to happen anyway. Why couldn’t they see that nothing was wrong? I was in excellent shape and kicking ass in school, but that didn’t seem to matter.

A moment later, the announcement came, "Brian Kellam to the office please, Brian Kellam, please come to the office."

I walked back down the hall to the office under the watchful eye of Sergeant Manerra. My head was throbbing by the time I made it to the counselors’ offices so I walked into the Nurse’s Aid Station and requested something for a headache. She gave me a couple Tylenol to take and then I knocked on Dr. Edelstein’s door. It was opened by Mrs. Hill who let the sergeant and me in before closing the door again behind us. Chris was nowhere to be seen.

Kathlene sat where I had left her, her face expressing worry, fear, and the ever-present love I had come to find comfort in. I sat next to her and she immediately put her arm around my shoulder and squeezed. She spoke first.

"Brian, I explained to these people about how you came to live with Chris and me."

An adrenaline rush banished my headache completely, but Kathlene patted my leg and continued.

"I told them how you feel your parents betrayed you by keeping things from you, and that you don’t want to live there. I also told them of the arrangement I have with your parents to act as your guardian."

She hadn’t outed me after all. I nodded to her, hoping she could see the gratitude in my eyes. She squeezed my leg again. I closed my eyes as my head began to pound again as my panic receded.

In a voice so quiet even I had to strain to hear it, I asked, "What now?"

Dr. Edelstein cleared his throat. "Brian, we’re afraid that if you continue as you are you’ll hurt yourself. You’re still growing. Your body isn’t fully mature, and it’s possible you’re putting too much strain on it."

"Possible? I haven’t had any problems," I said softly.

"No, you haven’t - yet, but we would like you to cut down on some of what you’re doing."

"Why? I’m fine. My body obviously likes the exercise. All you have to do is look to see that. There is no reason to change anything. I’m getting straight A’s, I’m doing well in sports, and I have a healthy body. I don’t want to change anything."

Dr. Lancaster spoke next. "The school in and of itself can’t do anything but make recommendations for your safety while you are not in school, Brian, but these are our requirements for your continued participation in athletics. You must take a complete physical to ensure it is safe for you to compete in any physical activity, including Physical Education and sports. We want you to take a sports physical every two weeks to make sure everything is okay with your body. We also want you to see Dr. Edelstein twice a week."

"What?" I asked, completely stunned by the hard line they was taking. "Why? I just told you everything is fine!"

"Brian, honey," Kathlene said calmly, "You need to listen to what they’re saying. I know I have. Maybe it’s time to give your body a break."

"I can’t! I’m still wrestling, and I need to keep in shape."

"Keeping in shape is one thing," interjected Coach Dalton angrily, "but there is such a thing as overdoing it, Kellam."

"I’m not overdoing it," I said dejectedly. "Everything is fine."

"Then you’re going to have to prove it to us, Brian," said Dr. Lancaster firmly.

"I’m going to be watching you, Brian," Coach Dalton said. "I see you every day in Phys Ed."

"That’s how you saw the bruises? When I was in the shower?" I asked, feeling a bit violated.

"It’s my job, Brian. That’s something I’m supposed to look for; things that can’t be explained away as simple childhood bumps and bruises."

"Don’t think that I’m not going to keep an eye on you too, Kellam," Coach Navarro added. "If you keep getting those bruises and not remembering where they came from, I’ll have no choice but to scratch you for the season."

"I don’t understand why this is such a big deal."

"It’s a big deal, Brian," said Dr. Edelstein, "because you are an ‘at risk’ child. You are in danger."

"At risk? In danger? From what?" I questioned in disbelief.

"From your apparent lack of self preservation," he explained. "You’re not taking care of yourself."

The room was quiet for a moment as I thought over the few options they had left me with. It seemed to me that I had no choice but to accede. Kathlene had taken their recommendations into account and I knew I could count on whatever they had told her to be implemented. It didn’t make me happy, but it was easy to see this was a war I couldn’t win. My only hope was to see how much wiggle room there was within the rules. I turned to look at Kathlene, pleading with her to just take me home. My headache was growing in intensity. I closed my eyes against the pain.

"Brian, are you okay?" Kathlene asked.

For some reason, having heard that question so many times that day, I felt like laughing. I couldn’t stop for a moment, and when I did and opened my eyes, I saw the adults looking at me strangely.

"I’m fine," I said as I closed my eyes against the pain. "I have a headache. Can we go home? I need to lie down."

I waited as the adults collectively made the decision. I opened my eyes long enough to see every single one of them wearing a worried expression. It was hilarious! They couldn’t, or wouldn’t, believe I was fine. They watched me like I was crazy or something as I chuckled quietly. Another glance sent me into laughter which my which my throbbing headache quelled in short order, leaving me chuckling once more.

At last, Dr. Edelstein nodded, and Kathlene led me out to the car as I still fought the urge to laugh.

We went home directly. The headache had continued to increase in intensity on the way there and I ended up vomiting out the window of the car. When we got home, Kathlene gave me some Advil, put me in bed and closed the shades in my room. All I could do was lay there with my head pounding like some power sub-woofer in a player’s ride.

She woke me for dinner but I told her I wasn’t hungry and managed to get back to sleep. My nightmares that night were scattered and incoherent. They didn’t really scare me because things changed so rapidly, though I did have one that I’ll remember forever and wish I could forget. I’m not even going to put it down here. I don’t want to think about it long enough to write it down.

The next morning my alarm went off at four-thirty as always. I threw some clothes into a running pack and pulled on my sweats. When I opened my bedroom door, I saw light downstairs and heard the shuffling of a newspaper that announced Kathlene’s presence. Her being awake at this time of morning was not something that had happened in all the time I’d lived with her.

I crept quietly down the short flight of stairs and into the kitchen. There she was, sipping her coffee and reading her paper as I suspected. She saw me immediately and smiled in greeting.

"Good morning, Brian. How did you sleep?"

"Okay. What are you doing up?"

"I wanted to talk to you before I take you to school," she replied.

"I was going to run to school."

"Not any more. Sit down, please."

Confused, I did as she asked. My brain was already working at top speed. Not any more? The phrase did not bode well.

"I have thought about this, Brian, so don’t think it’s an arbitrary thing. I weighed your wants against what would be best for you and the school’s recommendations. I’ve come to a decision.

"From now on, I will be taking you to school. No more morning runs."

"But…" I began, and Kathlene forestalled my protest with a hand.

"I’m not finished. No more solo workouts. The only time I want you in that weight room is with Chris."

"That’s not fair!" I said furiously.

"Fair or not, that is how it will be," Kathlene said forcefully. "Listen very carefully, Brian. You have two choices. As long as you live in my home, you will abide by the rules I have just given you, and any others I may make as necessity demands."

"And if I don’t?" I asked defiantly.

"Then you go home to live with your parents. I will not fight you on this. Those are your choices."

My anger grew into a white-hot rage as I sat there staring at her.

I spluttered, "You said you would never kick me out!"

"And I’m not. I’m simply giving you your options. I laid out the expectations I have for you. Whether you stay and keep to my expectations or go is completely within your control. It would be you choosing to leave, Brian, not me. It is entirely your decision."

I stood abruptly and knocked the chair over backwards, sending it skittering across the floor. There was nothing I could do. With a lurch, I stomped off toward the front door, but the school counselor’s words came back to haunt me. I was running away. Why? Because things hadn’t gone the way I wanted them to?

With my hand on the door handle, I thought hard about what I was preparing to do. If I walked out the door, I would be moving back in with my parents. If I didn’t, if I stayed here, I’d have to follow Kathlene’s edicts. A plan began to form in my brain. She wouldn’t be able to watch me every hour of every day. I could find opportunities.

Dropping my hand, I retreated to my room, stomping the whole way. I was still angry. No, angry wasn’t the word: I was livid, enraged, furious and royally pissed off. These people had decided how I could live my life. I now had no say at all in what I could do. My fury was an impotent fury, and that angered me even more.

I stood and began to pace. Already I was feeling caged like a wild animal in a pen for the first time. My anxiety level soared and my breathing became shallow and fast. I knew what was happening to me, and I tried to calm down and avoid the panic attack but I couldn’t stop it. With rising urgency I scoured my room for a bag I could use to slow my breathing. I finally found one in my closet that contained some things my mom had sent up to me when I first moved in. Dumping the contents on the floor, I placed the bag over my face and sat on the floor leaning against my bed. A moment later Kathlene opened my door.

"Brian, stop pounding...," she started angrily. When she actually saw me on the floor, she asked, "Are you having a panic attack?"

I glared at her and didn’t bother answering before turning away. She watched me with a hard expression while I breathed in the bag.

"You have to understand why I’ve set the limits I have. Your actions affect others to a large degree. If I let you continue as you were, you would not only be endangering yourself, you would be putting Chris and me in jeopardy. Chris would do anything for you, and I can’t allow that to place him in danger any more than I could allow you to place yourself in danger.

"You need to start thinking, Brian. I know how smart you are. Use your head. Think about the waves your actions cause. A perfect example is how your anger and isolation affects your friendship with Chris. I don’t know what happened between you two, but I can see the effects very easily.

"I’ve given you your choices. Think about it. Think very hard, because I mean what I said. I will send you back to your parents if you don’t meet my expectations. Perhaps later on, we can reevaluate the restrictions, but for now, and until I say otherwise, you will follow them to the letter. Am I clear?"

I dropped my eyes to the floor in complete fury. My breathing accelerated again, and not from panic.

"I will take you to school in a half hour. Please be ready."

Kathlene walked out of my room and closed the door. My breathing had calmed enough that I dropped the bag in disgust.

I was trapped.

They’d just better be careful that I didn’t chew my leg off to get away.

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