The Delinquent - Chapter 13

Savannah stroked his long dark hair out of his eyes. It was nearly long enough to tie back, she thought, picturing him with it in a tight ponytail. He stirred in his sleep and rolled onto his back, bringing an arm up over his head, unwittingly touching her stomach softly with his fingertips. The sensation had butterflies going off in her stomach and she realised that Joshua, although they'd had a lot of heavy making out sessions, had never sent courses of electricity through her body with a single touch, or made her want to pull his body tightly against her own.

She'd never wanted Joshua in the year they were together, the way she wanted Chad within a week. The feeling scared her and excited her at the same time. With Joshua, there was a warm steady glow inside her. A constant head that grew and waned. With Chad, it was a furnace that threatened to melt her from the inside.

Was this that passionate 'lust' that Carly spoke of? The uncontrollable urge to rip someone's clothes off? A jolt of physical satisfaction that kept the hunger at bay? She'd definitely felt a hunger in the pit of her stomach last night when he'd pinned her against that door. But now looking at him, at his most peaceful and vulnerable, there was no fiery pit. The furnace was still there, certainly, threatening to ignite if he touched her. But there was more.

She wanted him to see what she saw in him. The strength and confidence he oozed just by being himself. The intellect she saw in class and his fast ability to make friends. All the qualities he possessed that he was completely oblivious to. He was a good guy.

She looked up at the clock on the wall, and started to rouse him by gently tracing her fingers over his cheek and calling his name softly. He groaned and stretched slightly, but didn't fully wake. He brought his hand against hers and captured it against his face, before lifting it to his lips and kissing her palm. He laid her hand on his chest and linked his fingers with hers. Her heart clenched at the tenderness in the small action. A side she'd never seen before.

She whispered his name again and he reluctantly opened his eyes. He smiled up at her and tried to stretch, learning that he couldn't do that with his fingers wrapped around hers. His eyes widened quickly, and he looked at their hands, strangely hesitant to release it.

“How did I get here?” He asked sheepishly.

“You fell asleep and apparently I was a comfy pillow.”

He cursed quietly, making her laugh. “Glad you think this is funny.” He pulled himself up, still mildly disorientated. He pulled his hands through his hair. “I didn't plan that.”

“I know. It's fine.” She said. “You needed the sleep.” She stood up, straightening her clothes. “Lunch is nearly ready. I'm going to go grab a shower quick.”

He nodded and made his way to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

Kat chuckled when she saw him stumble into the kitchen. He leant against the door post and gave his head a quick shake, clearing his thoughts.

“I'm a mess.” He admitted, rubbing his face and straightening his wayward hair down.

“Strangely enough, I've seen you worse.”

Chad thought about the many times she had collected him out of police cells, off dirty floors and out of neglectful foster homes. “Yeah. Guess you have.”

“But... I've also never seen you so relaxed.” She noted. “In fact I think that's the first time I've ever seen you sleep so soundly.” She raised an eyebrow. “Comfy pillow?”

He blushed deeply, realising that she'd seen him drooling in her daughter's lap. “I have no idea how that happened Striker, I swear!”

“Relax Chad, I'm teasing. Believe me, if I was pissed off, you'd be dead already.” She passed him a plate with a fragrant chicken roll on it and made him sit down. She watched him as he ate it, and dished a second one for him when he'd devoured the first. “Permission to speak freely with you?” She asked

“Never stopped you before.” He grinned, his mouth full.

“Off record.” She stated.

He slowed his chewing and raised an eyebrow. “Alright.”

“Where's Andrew and why didn't he come to claim you?”

Chad sighed and put down his food. “Off record?” She nodded. “Dru got mixed up in a bad way with Oscar.”

“Which one's Oscar?”

“The one Richardson's trying to pin possession and pushing charges on. Dru thought he'd make bucks fast by doing a job for him. He screwed up and dropped the package. Ran.” He took another bite of his roll. “Idiot.”

“So he's hiding out?”

“Yeah. Was. He's fine now I think. We finished paying Oscar this morning.”

“We?” Kat said, tapping her fingers on the table.

Chad realised his mistake too late. “Crap. OK, I left this morning just after you did. Went and got his money delivered to him.” He cringed. Striker had strict rules and one of them was specifically that he was house bound unless going to school. He was surprised she'd even allowed him out to the party last night. “How much trouble am I in?”

“For leaving the house without supervision or permission, when you're a Ward of the State and under my guardianship?” She folded her hand across her chest. “Chad, you're lucky I don't call Richardson in here to kick your ass all the way back to Juvie.” She eyed him narrowly. “Luckily for you, I don't feel like having him read me the riot act.” Chad released a breath he hadn't known he was holding. “I would very much like to prove his smart ass very wrong. So let's get this straight, here and now. If you ever give him an excuse to tell me 'I told you so,' so help me I'll kill you myself.” She smiled sweetly. “Deal?”

“Striker, you scare me with your smile more than Richardson does with his taser. Deal.” He grinned at her and proceeded to finish off his roll. But apparently, Kat wasn't done with him.

“Next question. Still off record.”

He rolled his eyes. “Shoot.”

“Is that why you hit Mexel Pharmacy? Getting money in to bail out Andrew?”

Chad nodded. “What else could I do? He had to lay low.” He made no mention of the stolen jewellery.

“I understand.” Kat said simply. “I'd do the same if I had a brother to protect. But at some point, you've got to start looking after yourself first. Your birthday's in 27 days and counting. What then?”

“Then I'm eighteen and no longer your problem.” He shrugged. Kat continued to stare at him, the pressure under her gaze had him cracking within seconds. “I dunno Striker. What do you want me to say? You know no-one hires anyone with a Juvie record.”

“Are you going to drop out of school again?”

“Not like I can afford Dalton's tuition fees.” He said bitterly. “You know that. I guess I could enrol at Headley again. Finish up the year there.”

Kat nodded her approval. “I'll help you with the paperwork. A high school graduate with a Juvie record still has a better chance finding a job than a high school drop-out with a Juvie record. But that's not urgent. Your WOTS status runs until the end of June, so you can stay enrolled at Dalton until then.”

There was no way he'd be able to get to and from Dalton when he moved back in with Ed and Spinz. It took two buses and a hell of a lot of bus fare. He didn't want to tell her that though, especially since she'd probably put a lot of effort into the pep talk he was receiving. Which he appreciated. After all, she was the only one who bothered to show any kind of compassion and effort for him.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asked. “Strictly off record, of course.” He added with a smirk.

“Alright. I suppose that's fair.”

“Why? Why everything?” He tilted his head to the side and gave her a confused look. “Why do you keep doing stuff for me? I get it's your job, but you do way more than the others. They don't offer to do paperwork for me. They didn't stop off at Burger King after picking me up out of Juvie.”

“That burger was brilliant though, wasn't it?” She remembered fondly.

Chad chuckled. “It was better than brilliant.” He sighed and scratched his head. “I just don't get why you go to all the effort.”

Kat stood and rumpled his hair as she walked past him and retrieved a large file out of her briefcase. She returned to the table and opened it in front of him. His heart wrenched immediately. It was pictures of youths of all ages in various forms of neglect. Some were beaten to the point where he couldn't tell their gender. Some looked so malnourished that a gentle wind could have knocked them down. Next to them were police reports, newspaper articles and handwritten scraps of paper stuck in. It was brutal.

“These are my kids.” She ran a hand over a picture of a toddler whose body was covered in burns. “Zoe. Her father was a drunk. Wasn't concentrating and tried to bath her. He forgot to run the cold water.” Chad swallowed hard, sickened at the site, but unable to look away. “He killed himself out of guilt a day or two after. She lost the use of her feet due to nerve damaged. Double amputee by age four.” She took out and opened up a second, much smaller file, the pages inside neat and orderly. She showed him a picture. “This is Zoe when she got married last year.” The woman smiling back in the photo was amazing. Hair all in curls and looking every bit the fairytale bride. “Hard to tell they're the same person. She fell in love with her plastic surgeon. He fixed her legs and her heart.” She went back to the large file in front of Chad, scanning a few pages.

“Ah. This is Caleb. Pain in the ass if ever their was one.” She said fondly, pointing to an angry looking young teenager whose eyes spat hatred. “Ran away from every place he was ever put, and boy, could he cuss. Even Inspector Richardson was shocked at the words that came out of his mouth.” The section on Caleb was several pages long, and had obviously caused a lot of paperwork.

“What happened to him?”

“His mom took the wrong medicine while pregnant with him. Affected his brain. Everyone just thought he was a problem child and his family were relieved when he ran away for good. I first met him tied to a bed in a psych ward at age sixteen. Placed him, he ran. Placed him, ran. Place him, ran. Over and over. I eventually managed to get him a proper assessment done and he was diagnosed with a whole bunch of things. Schizophrenia, Multiple personality disorder, PTSD, GAD. You name it.” She sighed and opened her smaller file and paged to a pamphlet with a few accompanying photographs. “Caleb was a danger to himself and others. After many years of rehabilitation, and a lot of trial and error with meds and therapists, he's leading a relatively normal life now. He lives now at the Second Chance Rehabilitation Home. Will be there for the rest of his life most likely. But he's happy now at least. Helps out with the classes and even gives art lessons to the kids.”

“These kids, they're all your cases?” Chad asked, indicating to the large file in front of him.

“All of them.” She took the large file and paged through it, stopping about half way through. “This one here is a current case. My latest project.” Chad gazed down at a picture of two dirty children, the elder gripping the younger in a protective vice. There were police reports as well as file reference and several case numbers. Their section also seemed to have multiple pages.
“Double trouble. They kept you busy.”

“Still keeping me busy.” She said. “The younger one particularly.”

Chad scanned the page, amused by the thought that the two kids in the picture had kept her on her toes. Recalling how he and his brother must have kept her running, brought a grin to his face. “What's happening with these two then?” He lowered the thick records file and looked at her thin neat file, expectantly.

“You tell me, Chad.” She looked back down at the thick file, and turned the page for him.

His heart stopped within his chest and sunk into his stomach. There on the page was a picture of a much older and now recognisable picture of his brother, and beneath that one of himself. There were several mugshots from the detention centre for both of them, and notations and reports from the police cases they'd been linked to. Complaints from the foster homes they'd been placed in littered the pages. It seemed he'd left a trail of unhappy people wherever he went.

This was his life so far. A series of complaints, case numbers, mugshots and Juvie sentences. It wasn't much of a legacy. He turned back to the first page, and saw a snapshot of a coroners report. Elizabeth Denver. Age 24. Cause of Death: Narcotic overdose.

“Elizabeth.” He whispered. “I never knew her name. Dru never talks about her.”

“He may not remember much himself. I think he was six. You'd just turned two.”

Chad nodded. “She was a drug addict and a hooker. Dru remembered that much.”

“She was a very troubled young woman. She fell pregnant with Andrew when she was sixteen and her parents kicked her out. She struggled to find a job because she was a single mom, hadn't graduated and was living on her friend's couch. She made her way to the city trying to find work, but couldn't. She got involved with the wrong people and the rest, is history.”

“Did you know her?” He asked quietly.

Kat shook her head. “I never met her. I've just read her file. I was assigned to you two about a week later.”

Chad turned the page again, silently reading the notes and examining the pictures, his messed-up childhood memories brought to the surface. “Kinda weird to see all your life shoved into a few pages in a creepy file.”

“I guess it is pretty weird.” Kat said, closing the file. “What's really scary though, is that only half those kids make it into my second file. The file for kids who managed to turn their lives around. You asked me why I do it? Why I go the extra mile?” She tapped her second file with a sad smile. “Because this file is still way too thin.”