Rose Nelson showed up after school that day. This was the seventh
violent episode Reason had had since school started in September.
It was now mid-October, and at this rate, if something wasn’t done about
Reason’s outbursts, he would have to be sent to a behavior modification
school on the other side of town. Rose sat in conference with Beef Tory,
resource officer of Havelock school. A slender lady with cascades of
wild raven hair, she was dressed in faded blue jeans and tie-dyed T-shirt.
At thirty years-old, Rose gave off the impression that she was still deeply
entrenched in the biker culture. Rose could tell that Beef’s smiles were
condescending, and that he wanted to place the blame for Reason’s
outrageous behavior on her.
Beef said, “Diagnosed with ADHD and Oppositional Defiance Disorder,
Reason might be Bi-polar.”
Rose blurted, “Bi-what? It seems you’ve about run out of disorders
to place on him, because now you’re coming up with ones I’ve never
even heard of.”
Beef said, “We’re just trying to ascertain where this aggression is
coming from. He does take his medication daily, correct?”
Rose nodded. “When he doesn’t fight. Of course, for his impulse
control, he takes those meds at night when he’s not so cranky. Mornings
are different. I let him and Boone fight it out over him taking his doses
after breakfast. I tried repeatedly to enforce the taking of his meds, but
he fights me defiantly, until Boone steps in and gives him an ultimatum.”
“Which is?” Beef asked, curiously. “Violence?”
“No,” Rose said. “Boone has never struck Reason. Boone has this
thing he does which drives Reason nuts. He goes silent on him for hours
at time. He refuses to acknowledge him. This seems to work, too. Because
Reason is really afraid of being left out of his brother’s life.”
“So,” Beef said, “he has abandonment issues, too? We’re just tryin
to stay on the same page, Rose. I assure you, we all want what’s best
for Reason. His episodes here at school have escalated. Any particular
reason why?”
Rose sighed. “Not a clue. We ground him each time he has a bad
day here, but that doesn’t seem to have much impact on him. He just
goes into one of his tantrums. I ground him then process with him about
why he’s landed in trouble.”
Beef said, “Reason just doesn’t seem to get it, does he? We have
nearly exhausted our behavior modification techniques. Have you considered institutionalizing him for an evaluation? Any chance he’s dryfiring his meds?”
Rose said, “I suppose he could be spitting the pills out after his brother
stands there and watches him take them. Reason still objects to taking
his meds. Of course, that probably comes from him hearing me say that
some doctor is not going to practice on my son like a guinea pig. I’ve
adjusted my thinking now, though. Now that I’ve seen the calming effect
some of the meds have had on him. Reason says they make him sleepy.”
Beef shrugged. “Perhaps a med adjustment is needed. Perhaps after
being on the ones he’s been on for the past several months, he’s become
tolerant and immune to their desired effect. Without the meds, we’d
be fighting a losing battle. You have a very challenging boy, Rose. He’s
a little ringmaster who manages to run the show when ever he gets the
chance, but we need to stay on top of him, so that he doesn’t spoil the
circus, for us or for himself.”
***
Reason had been mouthing off all the way home, working himself
up about being grounded again for no apparent reason. Which was
his usual argument. Reason was in complete denial about blowing up
in school. In complete denial that he called his teacher a hag, that he
deserved being locked in the Quiet Room. Denial that he was the worst
kid at Havelock school.
Boone simply snapped his fingers and pointed at the porch.
Reason snapped his own fingers, mocking him. He snapped his fingers
again, raising his hand up to Boone’s face. At which point, Boone latched
onto his skinny little arm, and placed Reason in a wrist lock, something
that his sensei had shown him. When Reason became angry, he would
throw himself around, not hurting anyone but himself. But lately, his
aggressive outbursts included throwing punches at anyone who got within
range. Boone enlisted the help of his martial arts sensei to show him
how to handle him safely. At the detention center, he had watched the
staff there apply restraint techniques to handle some of the violent young
clients. And Reason was no exception.
Sometimes dealing with him was like trying to hold onto a greased
eel. Boone had learned how to move offline when it came to a frontal
attack by a raging little whirlwind. Because with Reason, he always
took a cheap shot and tried to knee Boone in the groin to inflict critical
damage. Thanks to his martial arts training, Boone had saved himself
from taking one of Reason’s upraised knees to his privates many times
during their altercations, and with the wrist lock, he’d learned to take
control of the ranting bundle of sticks and bones.
Twisting around like an eel on steroids, Reason proceeded to plant
his teeth in Boone’s forearm. Teeth scraped tender flesh, but Boone
yanked his arm back out of range, and in the process he lost his firm
hold he had Reason in. Sensing the weakness in his brother’s wrist lock,
Reason turned completely around, and threw himself bodily against
him. Off balance, Boone toppled over backwards and sprawled on his
back, cushioning Reason’s fall. Giving an animalistic snarl, Reason
planted his teeth in Boone’s chest and bit down hard, his jaws closing
like a bear trap just below his left nipple. He managed to free himself
from the painful bite and turn Reason so that he was facing forward.
He then sprang up and looped an arm about his neck, swung one arm
behind his back, and placed him in another restraint hold, forcing Reason’s
arm up between them and putting pressure just below his jaw
line on a nerve that instantly got results. Boone hauled him up off the
ground and firmly planted him on the porch. “Reason?” came a voice
from just inside the house.
There, standing beyond the screen door, was nine-year-old Collin
Young. His white-blond hair hung just below his ears while his scraggly
bangs dangled into his cat-like green eyes. Collin was a permanent fixture
around the Nelson house, especially since his own home was in constant
chaos due to his older brother’s delinquent behavior. Logan’s recent
citations included minor in possession, trespassing, shoplifting, and
despite, a dozen truancy referrals, Logan hadn’t been to a full day of
school since he started tenth grade two months ago. Collin’s parents
enlisted the help of Boone to keep Logan in line. Therefore, Collin
retreated to the Nelson house. At least there, during his episodes with
Reason, Boone never lost his cool, unlike his own parents who lacked
the parenting skills to deal with their older son.
The first time his dad slapped Logan, Collin had just stood there,
weeping. But over the past few months, he’d threatened to call Social
Services on his dad. Which got him a slap to the side of his own head.
At least at the Nelson house, no one ever punched or slapped him.
Reason grimaced, twisting his head around and snapping at his arm.
Boone simply did a leg sweep on him, promptly taking him down on
the porch, and planting his butt down beside the door. Reason snapped,
“He thinks because our dad got killed in that stupid motorcycle wreck
he’s got to be like a stupid dad!”
Collin said, “You’re lucky. Me? I got a brother who’s always so
busy keeping himself in trouble, he never has time to keep me in line.
I wish Boone was my brother. Boone? Don’t you wish we could push
a button on Reason to get him to act better?”
After a long pause, Collin asked, “Did you hear about the Oddballs?
Someone spray-painted them with blue paint. It was in the newspaper!
And Crime Stoppers is willing to pay a reward for information leading
to the arrest of whoever would be cruel enough to spray paint mentally
handicapped folk like the Oddballs. I talked to Vince about that and
about that little girl who got shot. Ever heard of Crime Stoppers? There’s
a big difference in being a narc or a snitch when it comes to helping
cops solve a murder, Reason.”
Silence reigned on the porch as a black Pontiac pulled up in front
of the house. The huge guy driving the car, was bald with the dark green
image of a dragon tat dominating his skull. He was dressed in a sleeveless
black vest and wore an assortment of gold chains around his neck. His
lower chin was covered by a thin beard, and he had cold dark eyes like
a shark. The man climbed out of his Pontiac. He climbed up two porch
steps, placing himself eye-level with Boone. “Which one is Reason?”
Reason folded his thin arms before his chest, trying to look tough,
although his stomach felt like a million butterflies were flapping their
wings inside of him. Boone moved to block his path to his brother. The
man said, “I’m Jack Holland, representing the Viking Kings. HVK stands
for Hell’s Viking Kings. My son, Nate, told me you did the tagging.”
Reason snapped, “HVK is ours!”
Whap! filled Reason’s ears, and a second later, tears filled his eyes
as a result of the stinging slap delivered by Jack. He reached down and
latched onto Reason’s throat. “In two days time, I want all the HVK’s
removed from the thirty places you tagged, got it?”
Just when he thought he might pass out, Reason looked past Jack
to see fifteen-year-old Logan Young standing beside the Pontiac in front
of the house. Logan’s long, black hair blew over his shoulders in the
slight breeze. He offered Jack a big grin. He ran the lock-blade he held
down from his temple, combing through strands of his wild raven hair.
Logan leaned down beside his Pontiac and jabbed at his right rear tire
with his knife. There came a garbled curse from Jack. Logan laughed
and zigzagged his way down the street and directly into the nearest alley.
Leave a Reply