The Delinquent - Chapter 4

Chad was disorientated when he woke many hours later. He was still fully dressed, although one of his shoes had fallen off somewhere, and his head was still throbbing. He sat up slowly, taking in the room’s details in the light of dawn that was slowly creeping in through the partially drawn curtains. The room was plain but comfortable, with turquoise and green splashes of colour. The bed he lay on was the best part though. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept on a bed with clean linen. Or in a room on his own for that matter. Usually he was on an old dirty mattress on the floor while Dru slept in a similar condition a few feet away. There was no hot water and next to no furniture in the apartment, but they made do with what they had. They’d found a small fridge on a dump site and after some trial and error, had got it working again.

In the last few weeks, while Dru had moved in with Tina, Dru had arranged for his friends, Ed and Spinz to move in to their humble one room apartment, to help pay the rent. They’d taken the mattresses however, leaving Chad to sleep on a small one-seater couch that smelt of cigarettes, beer and sweat. Chad had slept in worse conditions, so it didn’t really bother him too much. Besides, Ed was pretty good at bringing in food (Chad never asked where from) and Spinz was decent at cooking it, so it balanced out.

He couldn’t ever recall being in a house as large, or as fancy as the one he was currently in. It stank of money. Dru used to joke that you could smell the people who had money, because they smelt different. Clean. Soapy. What had he said to Savannah? Clean money and strawberry shampoo. He’d been right, apparently, if this was where she lived. He’d known Social Worker Striker for years and had never suspected her of having money. She seemed much more down to earth than the other Welfare workers. Like she understood him.

He glanced at the bedside table and saw an ice-cold coffee. He must have passed out quickly if they made him coffee and he’d slept through it. He felt a little guilty about that. Striker had been good to him. She didn’t push him to talk nor force him to go through therapy sessions with the state shrink. She understood that he didn’t want to hold hands and sing around a campfire. She gave him the odd clout around the ear, and stern tongue-lashing and released him to him brother’s care. Her parting words were always something along the lines of ‘make better choices’ or ‘be better than your circumstances.’ It grated on his nerves, but she was a good woman. She was just doing her job, and she tried to do it well. Better than some of the other loser welfare workers he’d been stuck with over the last fifteen or so years.

Savannah was something else though, he mused. She’d worn a green sequinned dress, her golden hair style like an elegant lady, and had fire in her eyes that was fierce. He was pretty sure that if he’d not interrupted Rhino and Vin, she’d have tried smacking the crap out of them both. It would probably have ended up with her dead in a gutter, but he admired her spirit nonetheless. And then he’d seen her with mussed up hair, and in her nightclothes, and although he’d recognized her immediately, she was completely another person on the inside. Shy and quiet, casual and sweet. Chad shook the images of her from his mind. Girls were hard work under normal circumstances. No need to think on them any more than necessary. His head was throbbing enough.

He reached for his bag and pulled out the packet he kept his painkillers in. His hand fumbled pointlessly around the bag. No, the cops had confiscated those too. He cursed and shoved the bag from the bed, regretting it as soon as the swift movement sent waves of pain through his skull.

He noted the towel and picked it up, bringing it close to his nose. It smelt weird. Flowery. He was obviously supposed to have showered last night. His stomach growled in response. Should have eaten too. He weighed the options: Food or hot water. After a brief internal battle, the desire to have a hot shower won, and he made his way down to the passage with his towel, toothbrush and a change of clothes.

Savannah stepped out of her bedroom as he was passing by. She cursed herself again for not at least brushing her hair before leaving the room. Her hair had a natural wave to it, that she felt looked more like a tsunami first thing in the morning. She smoothed her hair down quickly, hoping he hadn’t paid too much attention to her appearance.

“Morning. Hope you slept OK?” She asked, still trying to brush strands of hair out of her face.

“Slept like the dead actually.”

“That’s good. I bought you a coffee but you were already asleep.”

“Yeah. I saw. Thanks.” He didn’t maintain eye contact for more than a second.

“OK. Well I’ll just use the guest bathroom. You go ahead.” She stepped aside and Chad passed with a nod, entering the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

Not much of a talker she thought glumly, and went down the stairs to use the guest bathroom instead. She was making herself toast when Chad sauntered downstairs 15 minutes later, smelling like he'd used an entire bar of soap, and looking much cleaner and neater than she’d seen him previously.

“I’m making toast. Want some?” She asked quietly, smothering strawberry jam over the two slices in front of her. His stomach growled in answer, causing him to give a sheepish grin, whilst nodding his head. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She slid the plate over to him and put another two slices into the toaster for herself, and turned on the kettle.

“This is good. Thanks.” Chad mumbled between large bites. “Been so long since I had jam.”

“I practically live on it.” She said, smiling at how he was nearly inhaling the food. She placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of him as he licked the last of the crumbs off his fingers. She finished putting jam on her own toast and sat opposite him at the breakfast nook. “So, any idea as to how long you’ll be staying?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Any idea about court dates or stuff like that?”

“Don’t know anything until your Mom tells me something.”

Savannah, knowing how long it took the state to organize anything, didn’t hold much hope of a quick resolution. She ate silently, stealing brief looks at him when was looking away.

“You got a nice place here.” He said, looking around for the first time at the colours and furniture.

“It was my Gran’s place. She was an interior decorator.” Savannah pointed to a small framed photograph on the mantelpiece. “That’s her.”

Turning around caused him to wince in pain. The headache was worse now, and was starting to make his stomach uneasy.

“You OK?”

“Headache.” He mumbled, rubbing his temple. “Happens sometimes.”

“Let me get you some painkillers.” She moved quickly across the kitchen and rummaged through a cupboard and brought out a white plastic container, not much bigger than a shoe box. She placed it on the table in front of him and began to rummage through the contents.

“Got enough meds in there to need a license.” Chad smirked, checking out a few of the pill bottles, shaking them and reading the labels.

“Mom has a pill for everything.” She shrugged. “She likes to be prepared.”

“Prepared for what? A medical apocalypse?” He read a few more labels before settling on a small blue bottle. “This will do.” He said, opening it and swallowing two pills by washing it down with the last of his coffee.

Savannah took the bottle from him and read the label. “No, that’s wrong. This is for sinus-related pains.” She rolled her eyes at him. “It’s not for normal headaches or general pain.”

He took the bottle back and pointed to a very long, very medical looking word on the front. “See that? Acetaminophen. It’s a pain killer.”

“A…cet..a…”

“Acetaminophen.” Chad put the small blue bottle in his pocket and turned back to his coffee. “Works the same. Just labelled differently.”

“What are you? A pharmacist?” She said, rolling her eyes and closing the box.”

“White coats aren’t my thing. I just know meds.” Savannah put the medicine box back in the kitchen cupboard and returned to her seat, biting her lip, and a question in her eyes. Chad rolled his eyes. “What? Spit it out.”

“Know your meds well enough to steal them, and get busted?” She knew she was stepping over the line in asking him to admit to a crime, but he seemed to have enough of a ‘Devil may care’ attitude to probably boast about it at the same time.

“I know enough to not get busted apparently, seeing as I’m here and not in a police cell.” He smirked and finished the rest of his coffee, changing the subject afterwards. “So, what does fancy Mayfield have to offer a bored Juvenile Delinquent such as myself?”

She smirked at his self-labelling. “Well there’s the park.” She said, as she took their empty cups to the sink. “It’s nice to sit there and relax. Or there’s the mall? There’s a movie theatre and a bowling alley, and I think the mini-golf is open on Sundays.”

Chad scoffed in response.

“Well, what are the kind of things you like doing?” She asked, rolling her eyes. “Because my plans consisted of the couch, a book, and possibly and afternoon full of movie reruns on the TV.”

He scoffed again. “Yeah that's what I'd expect of a good little Mayfield girl. My Sunday plans usually consist of a morning recovering from the night before, and an afternoon of trying to stay ahead of the game.”

“Sounds very 'bad boy cliché' if you ask me.” She took the empty plates over to the sink and began to rinse them off. “But I sincerely doubt you'll be having any drinking binges whilst you're here. Mom doesn't tolerate that kind of thing.”

Chad had expected that that would be the case. He wasn't worried about the lack of drinking though, as it was more something to pass the time, rather than a pastime he enjoyed. Frankly, he'd be happy with just a decent cup of coffee and an evening without a headache. But those were generally hard to come by. He rubbed his temple and willed the pills to kick in a bit faster.

“Well since I have a bed and food in my stomach, I can give Striker a break for now.”

“Is that your way of showing gratitude to my mom? By not screwing up while you're here?”

Chad shrugged his shoulders. “Where I'm from, that's respect.”

Savannah wiped her hands dry on a dishcloth, and then slammed it down. “Where I'm from, you show gratitude by not screwing up, ever again. Do you even know what risks she placed on herself and her family by taking you in? If you get arrested while you're living under her roof, she could lose her job!” She stormed out of the room and shot him a dark look as she passed. “If you don't want to be helped, then do us all a favour and leave now before she wakes up and wastes any more time on you.”