Chapter Four, part 2
10/28/04 09:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyAnd here is the rest of tonight's tale. For those of you who worried about Whit, you can relax a little ! *G*
LATE MAY
Whit sighed and leaned his head against the wall. His head hurt, this stupid wood bench hurt his ass, it sucked to have to go to summer school and it sucked worse to be in trouble in summer school. He waited for Pete’s dad to arrive and hoped he wasn’t going to have to…whatever. Something. Just the idea that the Ross’ might make him move out—he’d already stretched their patience to the limit with this summer school shit, but it was Wade’s fault, constantly grabbing him and taking off, class or no class…nah, that was bullshit. It was his fault for never telling Wade no.
Oh well. Who should know better than him you can survive some serious shit. It was time he told Wade to grow the hell up…he snorted. Yeah. I’m so sure. Wade would love that. He sighed, and the usual stew of emotion and conflicted feeling that gripped him when he thought of Wade chased around in his head. Fuck.
He stared at the tiled wall, and wondered why anyone would design a school to look like an insane asylum when he heard a little dry cough at his side. Bigger fuck.
“Whitney. Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute. And. Don’t. Go. Anywhere.” Mr. Ross glared at him, and Whitney felt sick.
Oh fuck, fuck, he’d done it now. He wanted to run but his legs felt weak and shaky. He had to stay. He sat with his head hanging down, and tried to breath normally, but his stomach kept clenching and burning. It seemed like forever before Mr. Ross came back out of the office.
He stared at the wall behind Whit for a long moment no meeting his eyes, and Whit ‘s mouth dried, he fought to swallow.
“Young man, I’m going to have to have a serious talk with you. Now. Let’s go.” He walked off and Whit leaped to his feet and followed, every step on the tiles driving up his legs and jarring his gut.
They were out in the parking lot and hit bright, bright sunlight, so bright Whit’s eyes watered and burned. Mr. Ross was suddenly in his face.
“Whitney! You really have to--” he began as he lifted his hand and Whit saw—
Dad! “No!” Hands up and curled over his head and squeezing himself as small as he could and—his arms hurt, his shoulder, his ribs hurt--- “Dad! “ A smack so hard he really did see stars like a cartoon—the taste of blood, so much it made you want to vomit—
‘WHIT!”
“What! What,” he panted, the world did a snap and roll and he looked at the man in front of him, a man with caramel colored skin and dark brown eyes, eyes full of horror and—and pity. Whit threw himself back and Mr. Ross grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Whitney, Whitney—no one’s going to hit you, ok? Promise. We don’t do that—you’re almost a grown man, way too old for spankings.” He tried to smile, but it wavered a bit, and Whit closed his eyes against the sadness in Pete’s dad’s eyes.
Mr. Ross pushed him into the car and drove out of the parking lot of the school.
“We’re going to take a little drive around, ok,” and Whit nodded his head miserably.
He knew what this was all about. It was ok, if they wanted him to go. It wasn’t like he had no place to go to. Wade would let him stay with him, or maybe the Kent’s barn, he could stay there again. He smiled a little. He’d loved it when he was a kid…
They pulled into a little park, the sort of place families went on the weekend and dads barbequed on the grills there, and kids played on the swing sets while moms sat on benches close by to watch them. Whit looked around and could picture the Ross’ cooking out, the older boy’s playing ball, just a terrific little picture of domestic tranquility, he thought bitterly. I was probably getting the shit kicked out of me, while Pete was playing on the swings here…
Mr. Ross led him over to a bench and sat on the table with his feet on the seat, and when he told Whit to sit down, Whit copied him.
“Look, like I said, you’re almost a grown man, and I’m gonna talk to you like a fuckin’ man, you hear?” he threw a look over his shoulder, after all these years, it was automatic, the whole family did it; Whit grinned, even he’d started to do it. Mrs. Ross was fearsome when she was mad, and nothing pissed her off like improper language, or ‘bad behavior’ a nebulous term that meant anything she didn’t like.
Mr. Ross caught Whit’s grin and grinned back, shrugged a little, before he looked serious again.
“Abbie and I, we knew what we were doing when we asked if you wanted to live with us. We’ve known you ever since you where a little pint-sized pain in the butt. Always underfoot, and into everything.” He grinned hugely at Whitney, shook him by the shoulder.” Man, you were too much. We missed you a lot when you kind of backed away. We felt like shit that we didn’t step in sooner.” He cast his eyes down, looked a little ashamed...
“You know, when Mr. Kent and I talked to your dad that night, he cried. Yeah, I wanted to kick his ass too,” he said when Whit made a noise of disgust.
“Yeah, hell yeah he cried, the fucker. He was feeling sorry for his self. And Jonathan…he can be a scary son-of-a- bitch when he wants to be. He was right in his face, told him to give you up or he’d have the cops on his case, his business in the crapper and his foot up his butt so far, he was gonna taste cowshit.” Ross shook his head in admiration. “It was pretty damn spectacular.” He grinned.
“Fordman was practically begging to sign those guardianship papers by the time Kent was done explaining to him why he should…”
Whitney didn’t even ask where his mother was in all this. He didn’t give a shit; they could both go to hell as far as he cared.
Mr. Ross looked at him as if he knew what Whitney was thinking and he smiled warmly. “Hey. You were the best thing to come out of this, you know. We argued for you boy.”
Whit’s head shot up and he looked at Mr. Ross suspiciously.
“Really .The Kent’s wanted you to stay with them—but we have more room now that Pete’s the only one home full time now, and well, you know Abbie...
Whit. You have no idea how much the people you know care about you, do you?”
Whit stared at his shoes and shrugged. He didn’t trust himself to say anything at this instant. They both had wanted him? It—it hardly seemed possible.
“But listen now, I’m serious as a heart attack— you stop it, Whit. Stop fucking up, damn it, stop fighting and relax a little, ok? You’re not going anywhere. You’re home now. You hear me?” He reached out and squeezed Whit’s shoulder, and it reminded him of Pete and Sam, and he knew whom they’d gotten it from. Their generosity of spirit, and willingness to love had to come from this man.
Whit nodded, and Mr. Ross stood.
“Ok. I mean it boy, don’t make me come to the school again, ok? ‘Cause next time, I ‘m sending Abbie. And Sam.”
Whit faked a full body shiver, to mask the fact that he really was just a little afraid of Abigail Ross. And Sam— he really didn’t want to piss him off.
As if he read his mind, Mr. Ross called over his shoulder. “You really don’t want to piss your brother off! Come on, ‘fore Abbie sends the hounds after us. God—I hope she’s not pissed about dinner…and what am I going tell her about today? Do you think I have to tell her?” He looked at Whit hopefully.
Whit reluctantly nodded his head. ”Yeah. I guess we have to. Damn.”
Mr. Ross exhaled a long loud breath.” Yeah. Damn.”
They walked back to the car, Mr. Ross’ arm thrown around his shoulder.
“We could get Pete to tell her….”
“Yeah, she never gets mad at Pete—well, not too mad.”
“So, just so we’re clear here, Whit—I kick your butt next time you get in trouble, right?”
“Sure, I get it. But Sam has a standing appointment to do it.”
“Ah. Good. He’s a good boy, Sam.”
Whit nodded. Sam was doing well, now. Graduated and working in an ad agency in Metropolis. The best part about it was he was home a lot more frequently now, not just summer break and holidays. He smiled to himself. Every time Sam came home was like a holiday. He was the best, he really was.
And now, he was in his house, with his parents, his brother, sleeping in his old bed…and not following that thought, he scolded himself.
TBC!
LATE MAY
Whit sighed and leaned his head against the wall. His head hurt, this stupid wood bench hurt his ass, it sucked to have to go to summer school and it sucked worse to be in trouble in summer school. He waited for Pete’s dad to arrive and hoped he wasn’t going to have to…whatever. Something. Just the idea that the Ross’ might make him move out—he’d already stretched their patience to the limit with this summer school shit, but it was Wade’s fault, constantly grabbing him and taking off, class or no class…nah, that was bullshit. It was his fault for never telling Wade no.
Oh well. Who should know better than him you can survive some serious shit. It was time he told Wade to grow the hell up…he snorted. Yeah. I’m so sure. Wade would love that. He sighed, and the usual stew of emotion and conflicted feeling that gripped him when he thought of Wade chased around in his head. Fuck.
He stared at the tiled wall, and wondered why anyone would design a school to look like an insane asylum when he heard a little dry cough at his side. Bigger fuck.
“Whitney. Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute. And. Don’t. Go. Anywhere.” Mr. Ross glared at him, and Whitney felt sick.
Oh fuck, fuck, he’d done it now. He wanted to run but his legs felt weak and shaky. He had to stay. He sat with his head hanging down, and tried to breath normally, but his stomach kept clenching and burning. It seemed like forever before Mr. Ross came back out of the office.
He stared at the wall behind Whit for a long moment no meeting his eyes, and Whit ‘s mouth dried, he fought to swallow.
“Young man, I’m going to have to have a serious talk with you. Now. Let’s go.” He walked off and Whit leaped to his feet and followed, every step on the tiles driving up his legs and jarring his gut.
They were out in the parking lot and hit bright, bright sunlight, so bright Whit’s eyes watered and burned. Mr. Ross was suddenly in his face.
“Whitney! You really have to--” he began as he lifted his hand and Whit saw—
Dad! “No!” Hands up and curled over his head and squeezing himself as small as he could and—his arms hurt, his shoulder, his ribs hurt--- “Dad! “ A smack so hard he really did see stars like a cartoon—the taste of blood, so much it made you want to vomit—
‘WHIT!”
“What! What,” he panted, the world did a snap and roll and he looked at the man in front of him, a man with caramel colored skin and dark brown eyes, eyes full of horror and—and pity. Whit threw himself back and Mr. Ross grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Whitney, Whitney—no one’s going to hit you, ok? Promise. We don’t do that—you’re almost a grown man, way too old for spankings.” He tried to smile, but it wavered a bit, and Whit closed his eyes against the sadness in Pete’s dad’s eyes.
Mr. Ross pushed him into the car and drove out of the parking lot of the school.
“We’re going to take a little drive around, ok,” and Whit nodded his head miserably.
He knew what this was all about. It was ok, if they wanted him to go. It wasn’t like he had no place to go to. Wade would let him stay with him, or maybe the Kent’s barn, he could stay there again. He smiled a little. He’d loved it when he was a kid…
They pulled into a little park, the sort of place families went on the weekend and dads barbequed on the grills there, and kids played on the swing sets while moms sat on benches close by to watch them. Whit looked around and could picture the Ross’ cooking out, the older boy’s playing ball, just a terrific little picture of domestic tranquility, he thought bitterly. I was probably getting the shit kicked out of me, while Pete was playing on the swings here…
Mr. Ross led him over to a bench and sat on the table with his feet on the seat, and when he told Whit to sit down, Whit copied him.
“Look, like I said, you’re almost a grown man, and I’m gonna talk to you like a fuckin’ man, you hear?” he threw a look over his shoulder, after all these years, it was automatic, the whole family did it; Whit grinned, even he’d started to do it. Mrs. Ross was fearsome when she was mad, and nothing pissed her off like improper language, or ‘bad behavior’ a nebulous term that meant anything she didn’t like.
Mr. Ross caught Whit’s grin and grinned back, shrugged a little, before he looked serious again.
“Abbie and I, we knew what we were doing when we asked if you wanted to live with us. We’ve known you ever since you where a little pint-sized pain in the butt. Always underfoot, and into everything.” He grinned hugely at Whitney, shook him by the shoulder.” Man, you were too much. We missed you a lot when you kind of backed away. We felt like shit that we didn’t step in sooner.” He cast his eyes down, looked a little ashamed...
“You know, when Mr. Kent and I talked to your dad that night, he cried. Yeah, I wanted to kick his ass too,” he said when Whit made a noise of disgust.
“Yeah, hell yeah he cried, the fucker. He was feeling sorry for his self. And Jonathan…he can be a scary son-of-a- bitch when he wants to be. He was right in his face, told him to give you up or he’d have the cops on his case, his business in the crapper and his foot up his butt so far, he was gonna taste cowshit.” Ross shook his head in admiration. “It was pretty damn spectacular.” He grinned.
“Fordman was practically begging to sign those guardianship papers by the time Kent was done explaining to him why he should…”
Whitney didn’t even ask where his mother was in all this. He didn’t give a shit; they could both go to hell as far as he cared.
Mr. Ross looked at him as if he knew what Whitney was thinking and he smiled warmly. “Hey. You were the best thing to come out of this, you know. We argued for you boy.”
Whit’s head shot up and he looked at Mr. Ross suspiciously.
“Really .The Kent’s wanted you to stay with them—but we have more room now that Pete’s the only one home full time now, and well, you know Abbie...
Whit. You have no idea how much the people you know care about you, do you?”
Whit stared at his shoes and shrugged. He didn’t trust himself to say anything at this instant. They both had wanted him? It—it hardly seemed possible.
“But listen now, I’m serious as a heart attack— you stop it, Whit. Stop fucking up, damn it, stop fighting and relax a little, ok? You’re not going anywhere. You’re home now. You hear me?” He reached out and squeezed Whit’s shoulder, and it reminded him of Pete and Sam, and he knew whom they’d gotten it from. Their generosity of spirit, and willingness to love had to come from this man.
Whit nodded, and Mr. Ross stood.
“Ok. I mean it boy, don’t make me come to the school again, ok? ‘Cause next time, I ‘m sending Abbie. And Sam.”
Whit faked a full body shiver, to mask the fact that he really was just a little afraid of Abigail Ross. And Sam— he really didn’t want to piss him off.
As if he read his mind, Mr. Ross called over his shoulder. “You really don’t want to piss your brother off! Come on, ‘fore Abbie sends the hounds after us. God—I hope she’s not pissed about dinner…and what am I going tell her about today? Do you think I have to tell her?” He looked at Whit hopefully.
Whit reluctantly nodded his head. ”Yeah. I guess we have to. Damn.”
Mr. Ross exhaled a long loud breath.” Yeah. Damn.”
They walked back to the car, Mr. Ross’ arm thrown around his shoulder.
“We could get Pete to tell her….”
“Yeah, she never gets mad at Pete—well, not too mad.”
“So, just so we’re clear here, Whit—I kick your butt next time you get in trouble, right?”
“Sure, I get it. But Sam has a standing appointment to do it.”
“Ah. Good. He’s a good boy, Sam.”
Whit nodded. Sam was doing well, now. Graduated and working in an ad agency in Metropolis. The best part about it was he was home a lot more frequently now, not just summer break and holidays. He smiled to himself. Every time Sam came home was like a holiday. He was the best, he really was.
And now, he was in his house, with his parents, his brother, sleeping in his old bed…and not following that thought, he scolded himself.
TBC!
(no subject)
10/29/04 03:50 pm (UTC)Sad, scared Whitney deserves some Ross family lovin, and some security. Go, Roxy!
(no subject)
10/31/04 10:07 pm (UTC)