THE BAD BOY AND THE CHEERLEADER

THE BAD BOY AND THE CHEERLEADER - CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 46:

CALEB’S  POV:

Frustration isn’t a feeling that’s ever easy to deal with.  Helplessness is usually its companion.  I understand where she’s coming from, I really do.  But I can’t help feeling that I should be with her right now.  Doesn’t she need me as much as I need her? 

She’s texted that it’s only temporary, just until her dad can close up shop in Houston and find a place here.  She hasn’t even enrolled in school there, but is getting her assignments faxed to her from school here.  Trying to squash the panicky feeling that she won’t be coming back at all is all I can do. 

Going to school everyday isn’t helping.  Hanging out with friends isn’t helping.  Gianna back in Denver, yeah, that’ll help.  It’s been two weeks since she was released from the hospital and that very same day got on a plane with her dad to Houston.  They even took Chance with them. 

If I wasn’t so freaking miserable, I’d find the whole situation with Julie hilarious.  Her life might actually suck as much as mine does right now.   My dad won’t take her back cause she obviously won’t change, so the divorce moves forward. 

Besides that, Julie has to deal with the wrath of Chris.  While at the hospital, I overheard a very entertaining conversation, well argument really, where Chris laid into crazy Julie and basically called her a bad mother.  He also said something about her having her chance to raise the kids and obviously it’s his turn to take over.  Right on with that idea, but damn Chris, bring my girl back.  Like now would be good. 

I don’t know where Gianna and I stand right now.  I mean, I text her, “I love you,” and she texts back the same thing, but with her jaw wired shut, she can’t talk well enough for us to converse over the phone.  Our relationship has been reduced to a series of texts and emails.  And not enough for what I crave. 

I want things back the way they were before, Gianna nearby, us together.  We talk about only the most superficial things and, even through text messages, I can feel her distancing herself from me.  With her being all the way in Houston, and me stuck here, I have no way to fix it. 

We haven’t ‘talked’ about what happened.  I’d rather not do it over text messages, I’d prefer to do it with her in my arms.  In person, where I can judge her frame of mind.  I trust that Chris, being a smart man and all, is getting her the help she needs. 

Throwing a psychiatrist or two Julie’s way couldn’t hurt either.  Especially if they end up committing her.  From kitchen apron to straight jacket, the thought cheers me up a little. 

And oh yeah, did I mention that I got suspended?  For beating the shit out of Josh.  So, I’ve been doing my homework from home too.  The school is trying to decide what to do with me, whether or not to expel me.  On the one hand, Josh assaulted Gianna and my rage was totally justifiable.  On the other hand, I beat the shit out of him.  Helped to put him in the hospital.  Authorities never like a vgiliante.

The bright side of all this is that Josh has already gotten expelled.  He was also arrested the moment he was released from the hospital.  My dad’s kept in contact with Julie enough to let me know what’s going on with the whole justice system part of it. 

I cringe at the thought of my own upcoming meeting with the justice system.  My old friend, the juvenile one.  Next week, I have to go in front of a kiddie judge about the whole beating the shit out of Josh thing. 

Probably wouldn’t be such a big deal, but I'm already on probation for assault from when I beat up Claudette’s ex-boyfriend one night when he showed up at her apartment and hit her.  Put him in the hospital just like Josh.  I saw it as helping out a damsel in distress, the judge saw it as going too far. 

At the time, I had already gotten arrested for minor offenses and the assault charge called for major action on the justice system’s part.  Hence probation.  I had to go visit my probation officer the other day and he wasn’t too happy with me.  The guy is an ass. 

Laying on my bed, listening to depressing music, feeling sorry for myself, I decide to send Gianna another text. 

“Miss you”

After four minutes, I was watching the clock, I get a text back, “Miss you”

Okay.  “Love you, princess”

“Love you”

Right.  “Can’t wait to hold you again”

Ten minutes till the next text.  I know it’s hard for her to text with her broken wrists, but jeez.  “Watching a movie with Chance”

“Thinking about you” I text back.  “When are you coming home?”

“Not sure”

“Have court next week”

Three minutes.  “Hope you don’t get in trouble cause of me”

“Not your fault.  Any of it.”

When she still hasn’t text messaged back about fourteen minutes later, I text her again.  “How are you?”

She finally texts me back.  “Fine”

Well, that doesn’t tell me much.  I give up for now, when we’re face-to-face again, I won’t let her hide from me.  “Love you, talk to you later.”

“Bye”

That frustrated, helpless, panicky feeling is back again.  What the hell am I supposed to do?  I try to reassure myself that I can fix everything once Gianna is back in Denver.  Her dad is supposedly going to sell his house in Houston, pull out of his partnership with a group of other plastic surgeons and buy a home in the Denver suburbs for him, Gianna and Chance to move into. 

Chris has threatened Julie with taking her to court to get all her parental right revoked if she fights him for custody.  Gianna wants to live with her dad and Chris told Julie that no way would a judge make her stay with an “unstable mother.”  Despite the vast difference in their ages, a judge also wouldn’t want to separate brother and sister.  I think Julie is cooperating because she doesn’t want anyone to call her crazy on record. 

Once Chris has moved here with Gianna and Chance, everything will get better. 

My dad wasn’t pissed at me at all about beating up Josh, but my mom was upset.  She said that while she understood why, she just wish none of it had ever happened.  Well, duh.  I think we are all feeling that way.  She’s also upset about my date with the juvie court.  My parents plan to be there to support me, though. 

I wonder what’s up with Ian?  With a mental shrug, I kick the thought out of my brain.  That boy always lands on his feet, as annoying as that’s been in the past.  I’m sure his dad eventually showed up to pick him up at juvie.  He probably has a court date too. 

Gianna must not have told Cece and her other friends about what happened.  When I saw Dante yesterday, he didn’t mention anything about it.  Since Dante dates Cece and Cece has a big mouth, I figured if she knew, he’d know.  Since Gianna doesn’t seem to want them to know, I’m not about to tell anyone.  They all seem to think that she’s just visiting her dad in Houston. 

Six days later, on a Wednesday, I find myself sitting with my parents outside the courtroom, dressed all church-like, waiting for my turn in the courtroom.  My mom is checking her lipstick again, a nervous habit, so I try to soothe her, “It’ll be fine, mom.”

She tries to smile, “I know, I just always hate this part.”

My smile comes easily, Gianna is coming home next Tuesday, things are looking up, “Oh really, I thought you hated the part where you see your baby in handcuffs.”

“Remind me to take away your car,” my dad grumbles on the other side of me. 

“Look who it is, my man Caleb,” I hear from a few feet away. 

I look up and barely stifle the groan, then I decide to go with it and groan anyways, “Oh crap, it’s a demon.”

Ian just laughs and motions to my lawyer who’s sitting a couple chairs down from my dad, “Is that your dork?”  Before I can answer, Ian motions to the guy in a suit standing next to him, “This is my dork.  He’s here to get me out of trouble again.”

“Where are your parents?” my mom asks him. 

Ian has a blank look on his face, “What are parents?”

My mom puts a hand over her heart, “I’m sorry, are you an orphan?”

Ian and I start laughing, then he says, “My dad is banging his new girlfriend in Cabo, he couldn’t make it.”

My mom gasps and I can hear my dad do that choke-laugh thing.  An “Oh,” is all she manages to get out.

“What are you doing here, loser?” I ask Ian. 

As his lawyer moves to converse with mine, Ian takes a seat on the other side of my mom, I lean forward to listen to him, “My dork says that the judge decided to combine our hearings, since we committed the crime together and all.”  He rests one ankle on the opposite knee and leans back, “I’m not worried.  My dork is really expensive.  You should be grateful that he’s sharing all his legal wisdom with your dork.”

A middle-aged woman opens the door to the courtroom and calls out, “Ian Crenshaw, Caleb Morrison.”  She holds the door open while Ian, myself and our entourage file into the courtroom.  The room is small and since our crimes aren’t exactly newsworthy, the pews are empty. 

The similarities between court and church always amuse me.  My mom got on a Jesus-kick for a awhile, back when I was in the seventh grade.  She said it helped inspire her artwork.  In response, I told her that many artists also find alcohol inspiring.  That I would be more than happy to get drunk with her instead of the whole going-to-church thing.  She made me say a prayer.  So glad she moved onto meditation soon after that. 

Anyways, at church, I had to dress up, pray for my eternal soul, listen to an old dude in a robe lecture me.  And, oh yeah, there were pews and an altar.  What do you know?  Pew, check.  Pray for mercy, check.  Bitchy old dude in a robe, check.  Shirt and tie, check.  They even bring the bible into both situations.  There isn’t an alter, exactly, but the judge does get to sit up on his bench all high-and-mighty.  He just doesn’t jabber on about the lord-almighty.  Instead of hearing about what a great guy Jesus was, I get to hear about what a piece of crap I am. 

What Would Jesus Do?  Well, I think he would have kicked Josh’s ass too. 

After going through all the formalities that the justice system requires, the judge goes on to explain why we’re being tried together.  Duh, we beat up the same dude, at the same time.  Then, he goes on about what little punks we’ve been in the past.  And whoa, Ian is even worse than me.  What a criminal he is.  I may have been caught with drugs, but the guy has gotten caught selling them before.  Why would he need to do that?  His dad is a millionaire. 

When the judge mentions that we both have former assault convictions on our records, we look at each other and I feel a mental high-five thing going on.  Maybe Ian isn’t such a bad guy after all.  When the judge starts to explain each of our former convictions, I take that thought back.  I put a guy in the hospital because he hit a female friend of mine.  Ian did it for shits and giggles.  I guess Ian was messing with some guy’s girlfriend and when the guy didn’t like it, Ian dropped his ass. 

A list of minor offenses is read through for both of us.  Vandalism, petty theft, truancy, you know, all the usual suspects.  Dang, if I’ve been taught anything by his lecture, it’s that I’ve gotten caught way too many times in the past four to five years.  I’ve been dead-on when it comes to the execution of my naughtiness, but the follow-through just sucks. 

It’s weird listening to all of it, because that’s just not who I am anymore.  I no longer take joy in being bad.  I no longer see myself like that.  I just want to be with Gianna, be the kind of guy that she deserves.  And she’s coming back in just six days.  I’m so excited that I just want to get this over with and start planning a fresh start with her.  

I even did something completely un-me-like and went to the library to check out psychology books on the aftermath of being a victim of violence.  Helping a victim cope with physical and sexual abuse.  As much as my stomach still turns when I think of what Gianna went through, I need to have my A-game going to help her work through it. 

The books have told me all sorts of things to expect from her.  Guilt, shame, embarrassment, depression, anger, detachment.  Basically, you name the crappy feeling and Gianna is bound to feel it.  I also learned all sorts of tips and methods for healing.  I’ll leave the psycho-babble stuff to the experts, but there are simple things that I can do to help her.  When she comes back, I’ll start working on that. 

“Caleb Morrison,” as the judge says my full name, I realize that this is it.  His judgment.  So church-like.  “Ian Crenshaw.”  I glance over at Ian to see his lawyer give him a little pat on the back for support.  Did the lawyer not hear the part where Ian called him a dork? 

The judge continues on, “Unfortunately, the victim was unavailable and not able to attend the hearing.”  Really, Josh, the victim?  He goes on to say, “However, after reviewing the case, hearing the motives and arguments from the lawyers and defendants, I’ve come to a decision.”  The serious look on his face starts to worry me.  “As a father myself, I can understand the reason for the brutality that you both displayed.  As a judge, I have to follow the letter of the law.  This isn’t the first instance of violating that law for either of you boys.  Repeatedly, you’ve ignored the dictates of the law and done as you’ve seen fit to do.  Had this been both of your first offenses, probation would have been my course of action.” 

He sighs as if this is his life in the balance, “I feel, it is in your best interests that I order a harsher punishment for both of you.  Something that will get through to you and hopefully prevent you from winding up in prison as adults later on in life.” 

I feel real apprehension start to build within me.  I look over at Ian and he’s clenching his fists.  I wipe the sweat off my brow and glance back at my parents.  My mom is already crying. 

Looking back at the judge, I feel as if I’m looking at the grim reaper.  “I order your parents to take you to the State of Colorado Youth Corrections facility in Pueblo by Monday morning.  You will each remain at that facility for the duration of 304 days, ten months.”  He hits his gavel and effectively ruins my life. 

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