LIW&B Chapter 14

Counselor Rob monitored Happy very closely after his hospitalization. Rob couldn't get over the kid protecting his bully. Rob had been working with troubled kids for over ten years. Brian was as rotten as he had seen, a nightmare to all kids quiet and weak, traits of most neglected children. For such a battered victim like Happy to throw away his only chance to rid himself of his tormentor was beyond the good counselor. Something was up and Rob was determined to unravel the mystery.

Counselor Rob monitored Happy's calls, reviewed his grades, but mostly followed him everywhere. Counselor Rob kept close tabs, even going so far as to time the boy with a notepad. This scrutiny lasted for over a month. It all became a bore. There was nothing to find.

Happy went to class, the cafeteria, and counseling. Sometimes he sat in the common area and stood in the back watching television. He couldn't sit on the couch near the other boys. He was a friend of Brian's and a traitor to the rest of them. Happy didn't watch much television.

Counselor Rob read his file, no violent history. There was betrayal and filth, but no violence. In fact, every medical diagnosis includes a remark about Happy's good nature. How could the boy be involved with a case like Brian Walt?

Rob pitied Brian Walt. He had read his file and understood the evil that had shaped him. Counselor Rob had been at the county children's center since Brian was first admitted at the age of eight years old. If the damage hadn't been irreversible upon his arrival it soon became so after his initial foster assignment. Rob made it his mission to save the boy and he had failed. Therapists agreed Brian was a danger to other kids. Eventually Rob gave up. His mission became to protect the other kids from the bully he lost.

The good counselor even pleaded Happy's case in the beginning. When the residential committee decided to room Happy with Brian upon admittance, counselor Rob objected and did his best to stop it. The committee selected to room the boys together based on Brian's history of disturbances and Happy's size. The idea was that any child rooming with Brian would be subject to some abuse. The best solution was to pair him with the child most physically capable of withstanding such abuse. The fact that Happy was 4 years younger in a world where 4 years is a lifetime had to be an unfortunate afterthought. It was a cold and calculated but based entirely on the reality of the situation.

Counselor Rob argued that Brian must remain in a single room. Rob argued even Brian's therapist recommended it. Times were tight which meant no more single rooms, regardless of a therapist's advice. It was the same bottom line that reminded Rob kids were units. It was a hideous view Rob never felt compelled to accept. But it wasn't a battle he could win. His proposal was rejected. Brian broke Happy's ribs.

Counselor Rob had been on Happy's side. He had sympathy from the start. He was glad to discover Happy was nothing but a scheduled and earnest student. After awhile the monitoring lapsed. Counselor Rob had other problems, other kids to save. Brian was quiet and was still only an episode away from transferring out of his jurisdiction. If Happy didn't want to help himself that was his business. So Counselor Rob dropped the scrutiny, but he continued to monitor the phone calls out of curiosity. They were few and far between and always interesting.

Counselor Rob couldn't figure out this Mel Stotch character. From what he understood he was a crazy old drunk that found the kid in a trash can and took him home. The guy had ran the city dump for twenty years or more. The old man didn't sound like he gave a damn for the boy over the phone. His answers were brief if he said anything. Happy just rambled to a few careless grunts. He sounded comatose when he told Happy he loved him. Judging by his conversation, Mel Stotch didn't give a damn about the boy. This was confirmed with the good counselor as the phone calls became fewer and fewer.

Still, Happy loved Mel Stotch. Regardless of his tone or conversation, Happy was always thrilled to hear the old man was on the phone. Counselor Rob delivered this notice personally each time. He enjoyed the explosion of glee. It was rare in the children's home. For a guy who sounded like Mel Stotch, it was unfounded. That's how counselor Rob felt. He couldn't figure it out.

Then counselor Rob listened to Happy's call with Mel on his twelfth birthday and it started to make sense.

"Hi there, Happy."
"Hi Dad!"
"You know it's your birthday today right?"
"No I don't. Is it my birthday today?"
"Yeah, it sure is!"
"Wow! I can't believe it!"
"Yep, Happy Birthday Happy."

The old man's voice was low but more chipper than counselor Rob had heard before. Rob wore a headset and sat in a Monitoring room, watching the film from the camera in the visitor area where the kids used the phones. The idea of an excited kid talking to his grandpa about his birthday seemed like a Norman Rockwell painting. The reality of the lonely boy in a room alone finding out the day is his birthday was a depression Rob did his best to ignore.

"Look Happy, I'll cut right to the chase. I've been trying to get you out of there and bring you home for some time and well,...." Mel choked and Rob heard a whimper Happy didn't. Mel launched into violent coughing directly and blurred the whimpering sound. At last he caught his breath and finished his cursed honesty.
"I can't ever bring you home, Happy," Mel spilled, "I'm too old and weak and I can't take care of you. The state won't let me. I tried all I can."

Rob sat up from slouching. In the camera, Happy remained still and silent, the splitting of his heart invisible. The camera didn't have the definition to capture his eyes, blank and brimming with tears. It was the truth both father and son had danced around for eight torturous months, months Happy survived with optimism alone. The boy just lost his lifeline. His father's words hammered the nails in the coffin.

"Happy?" Mel asked, "You hear me, son?"
Regardless of his pain, the boy answered his father. "Yeah, Dad," his voice quaked with tears, "I heard ya."

The old man held an insanely hopeful notion that the conversation could end without tears. He had made insane, unnatural progress on the front. Mel had eased the boy along without a weeping breakdown for eight months utilizing Happy's good nature as much as he could. It was pure selfishness. Mel was protecting himself. He was afraid if he heard his son cry from the tragic sadness of their loss it could send him into unknown darkness from which he'd never recover. The old man feared hearing his son cries might end his old life.

Mel's son had been stolen. His family was torn apart by outside forces the same as families torn apart from apartheid or war. That was the truth Mel managed to hide. He finally revealed the truth and his son was crying. Mel had to hold back the darkness long enough to soften the blow.

"I love you Happy," Mel's voice quaked like this son. "I'm sorry I can't stop this. I can't do nothin' to bring my son home!"
Mel began openly crying, a pathetic sound of an old man losing control of his pain. Mel whined loud and long, like a wounded hound begging for help. Counselor Rob wiped his eyes in the monitoring room, regretting his opinion of this helpless old man, this father crying for his son.

Happy forgot his own pain at the sound of his father. The boy wiped his eyes and came to his aid.
"It's OK Dad," Happy consoled, "I love you too! We can still be together. Just come to visit! You can see my room! And the cafeteria!"
Brian was forgotten. Loneliness was forgotten. Fear and blood were forgotten. His father hurt. Happy would endure any torment to avoid such an event.

Happy's idea made Mel's pain worse. His spotted face turned red from his shameful lack of effort. The selfish old bastard never bothered to check his visitation rights. He only thought of his own pain. Mel pictured a reunion from opposite sides of a folding table in a room with guards and psychiatrists. He thought it would be worse than no meeting at all. He never asked for Happy to vote.

Hearing Happy on the phone, begging for him to visit, Mel choked on his mistake. The old man was too weak. He couldn't own up to it, not today.
"I don't know, Happy," Mel grabbed control of his tears and cleared his voice. "I need to look into that. I don't think they'll let me come see you. But I'll check. I'll see what I can do." Mel knew he might be lying but wanted it to be the truth.

"That would be the best birthday present!" Happy cheered. It killed the old man a little more.
"Yeah, we'll see Son. We'll see." Counselor Rob heard another whimper Happy missed. Mel was defeated and dying. He wanted to surrender. There was no fight left. He only tried to give Happy some optimism he couldn't give himself.

The call ended soon after the exchange. Happy asked about his cats and dreamed about how great it would be if his father could bring a few along when he came to visit. Mel played along as best as could. His tone improved but didn't make it back to that chipper voice that started the call.

Counselor Rob watched the camera closely when the call disconnected. Happy hung up the phone and stayed in his chair, not moving for minutes. No tears returned, but the joyous voice that consoled his father wasn't represented by the body language. When Happy finally stood, his face shown despair. The episode struck the good counselor. He resumed his scrutiny of the Stotch case with a new heart and cause.

Rob wanted to reunite Happy with his father. He wanted them to have a chance. Rob didn't change his feelings on the quality of the city dump as an environment to raise a child, but if the home had genuine love and the alternative was becoming a unit, the counselor couldn't argue against it. This is why Rob stayed quiet about what he observed when his surveillance of the boy renewed.

Counselor Rob should have alerted someone when he witnessed Happy steal the bottles of syrup from the kitchen pantry. He should have stepped in and stopped the thievery demanding to know where Happy got the key. Instead, Rob watched from the shadows. He couldn't imagine what would do with 15 gallons of syrup. He just kept his mouth shut and took it as a puzzle piece. Rob was a cop on stakeout. He wanted something bigger.

The gentle counselor built quite an array of contract breaches in the weeks following the birthday phone call. Anything he hid could have cost him his job and career. Allowing children to steal and conspire would be a mark on a record that would essentially kick him out of the industry. But Rob felt the cause was just. As events transpired he would also find it inspirational.

Rob followed Happy as the boy appeared to scope out the laundry facility. The kids weren't supposed to be there but it wasn't restricted. There were no escape routes so there was really no danger. Laundry was shipped out to a commercial company for washing so there were no dangerous chemicals or solutions for kids to find. There were just wheeled carts filled with towels, sheets, and uniforms, carts big enough to hide a kid.

Happy sharpened his natural observations. He had purpose. He was putting together a plan. He watched the custodians push the carts through the building to the loading dock beside his beloved line of dumpsters. He memorized the days and times the laundry moved. Happy saw the Laundry truck pull up and take the load. There was no inspection process. No one supervised any of it. It would be very easy to hitch a ride in a cart and be loaded into the truck.

Counselor Rob peeked around a corner and watched Happy take the carts away from the laundry room and wheel them to empty classrooms or closets in the area. The laundry room was deserted except for after meals and on laundry pickup days. It was an hour before lights out on a day with no pickup. Rob could have lost his job for not stopping the boy at that moment, but he hadn't figured it out. He needed more evidence of a crime.

Happy left one cart in the laundry room. The boy looked around and counselor Rob barely turned the corner in time to avoid it. He dared to peak around again when he heard the laundry cart hit the floor.

Happy emptied the laundry cart. He intentionally kept the cart full of kitchen towels and now emptied them on floor. He lifted the cart back upright and moved for a cabinet that holds towel and sheet reserves. Happy opened the cabinet and retrieved the bottles of syrup. Rob hadn't seen him stash them in here. Even the good counselor has to sleep.

Happy emptied one bottle of syrup in the bottom of the laundry cart. He picked up a third of the towels and threw them back in on top of the pool of syrup. Happy then grabbed another bottle and emptied it on top of the towels. After this came another third of the laundry. Happy finished off the last bottle of syrup and pile of laundry with a final layer.

That was it. Happy went back to his room without further action, dropping the empty syrup bottles in the trash on the way. Counselor Rob checked the laundry room after Happy left and found nothing else peculiar aside from the moved carts and syrup covered towels. During his search, Rob missed the conversation between Happy and Brian back in their dorm room. He missed the starting pistol of the race.

Happy walked into the room, consumed with excitement. He was able to conceal it, but only after some pacing in the hallway. The burning even took his mind of his defeated father. Happy exhaled deeply and straightened his lips before entering the room.

Brian lay on his bed, hands behind his greasy curls, bent ham hock arms pointing elbows at different poles of the room. He didn't look at Happy when he walked in, but acknowledged him by clearing his throat. Happy hadn't started a conversation with him once in the months since the attack. When Happy walked to his bunk and started talking, Brian sat up ready for a fight.

"What do you want?" Brian asked defensively.
"I want to talk to you," Happy answered, unsure how to start.
"About what?"
Happy paused and answered, "About escaping."

Brian's voice dropped to a whisper instinctively.
"You're gonna escape? No fucking way."
"I am gonna escape," Happy defied. "I already figured it out."
"How?"
"Hiding out in a laundry cart, getting shipped away by truck."

Brian looked at him full of suspicion. It sounded too good to be true.
"Bullshit, how do you know about the laundry?"
"I've been watching them," Happy confessed. "I been watching them for weeks."
Happy sat on the bunk next to Brian who hesitated before making room.
"The laundry gets put in carts and sits in the laundry room until the cleaning trucks come to pick it up," Happy explained. "The custodians push the carts out there, but no checks anything. No checks the laundry room at all."
Brian eyeballed him heavily. He was starting to believe.
"Why are you asking me to go?" Brian had to know. It was the million dollar question. Happy had a million dollar answer.
"I didn't think about telling you at first," Happy lied. "But I figure you'll be the first to tell if I turn up missing. I don't care if you escape or not. I just need you to keep quiet about it."

Brian wanted to escape more than anything, but what was simple observation to Happy was invisible to Brian. Brian was too busy watching the other kids. He assumed he was watched too closely to sneak off to places like the laundry room and he was right. Even kids not expecting to be watched wouldn't approach escape with the same nonchalance as Happy. The taboo alluded him. It was difficult for Brian to trust him and impossible without a threat.

"Look, Freak," Brian started, "If you're lying about this or I get in trouble.."
"This isn't a lie," Happy interrupted.
"If you're lying to me Freak," Brian interrupted back, "I'll kill you."
Happy sat silent and threatened.
"If I'm gonna get in trouble and go to Juvy Hall, you'll be dead."
Happy gave the brute a moment to breathe before addressing his fears.
"I'm not lying," Happy said shaking his head. "I wouldn't tell you at all if I didn't have to."

Desperation and surrender were acceptable reasons to believe. Brian nodded his head slowly.
"Keep talking, when can we do this?"
"Tonight," Happy assured, "We'll sneak out at midnight."

At midnight, the children's center was a chamber. Security guards sat at a desk in the front lobby and monitored the exits until 7am. The halls were empty aside from an insomniac floor counselor. Rob didn't have insomnia, just a reason to sleep lightly. Having his room close to Brian's, he heard the boys' footsteps as muffled as they tried to be. Rob followed them to the laundry room finding it much easier to hide after lights off. Rob heard their conversation and started to figure it out.

"Oh no!" Happy exclaimed when they entered the laundry room.
"What?" Brian asked, looking around. He had never seen the place.
"There's only one cart! There's supposed to be a lot of carts in here! Tomorrow's a pick up day!" Happy kept his lie as honest as possible. "We need at least two carts for both of us to sneak out. We can't both fit in one!"

Brian assessed the situation. Now that he saw the laundry room he knew Happy was serious. He agreed with the quality of the plan. He was close to escape and nothing would get in his way.
"Once one of us turns up missing, counselor Rob will lock us down so tight we'll never be able to sneak up here again," Brian rationalized. "So only one of us is gonna be able to escape."
He turned to Happy with the familiar look of evil that had completely resurfaced.
"Sorry, Keeper," Brian growled. "But I'm too close to Juvy Hall and jail. I'm gettin' out of here and you're stayin' behind."

"No way Brian!" Happy disputed and feigned anger. "This is my idea! I'm leaving!"
Happy was getting loud and threatening Brian's escape. Brian punched Happy in the mouth hard enough to send him to the ground. Rob held himself back from interfering. The plan had become clear.
Brian got on his knees and breathed his foul menace in Happy's ear.
"I'm leavin', Happy. That's all there is to it. If you try to stop me I'll beat you to death right here. I'm going to jail anyway if I stay here. Don't fuck with me, Happy. Just get out of here and go back to the dorm."

Happy felt it was convincing enough to just hold his bleeding lip and nod. He got up and hurried out of the laundry room without comment, exactly as he'd planned. Counselor Rob stayed to watch Brian. He watched Brian frown as he discovered the sticky syrup on the towels.

Brian moved slowly and groaned but he climbed in the laundry cart and began to cover himself. The towels were heavy and hard to separate with the setting adhesion of the sap. Brian was slightly repulsed, but figured jail was worse than some dirty towels and eventually made it underneath enough layers to keep hidden. He found a comfortable position to breathe and waited. Brian sat still and silent, patiently waiting for his pickup and delivery to freedom as the syrup dried and sealed.

Counselor Rob waited an hour before leaving the laundry room. By that time it was after 2 am. He didn't know how long Brian would stay there, but the next morning was not a pick up day. Roll call in the morning assembly was in 5 and a half hours. Rob had that long to let this con play out before he had to expose it.

Happy set Brian up in a way that required Brian's own temper and violence to make the set up work. The only part of the plan Rob misunderstood was Happy's motivation. He saw Happy's charade as simple revenge for the beatings he sustained. He would later see it as a distraction Happy needed to hide in the dumpster. Indeed, Happy's plan served all of these ends, but neither was the reason behind his drive. Revenge had no part of the reason nor the boy's nature.

Once Happy knew he was leaving he thought about Brian. He thought about the next boy to be housed with the storm. He still had sympathy for someone with such anger although he had stopped trying to help. Like the good counselor, to who he still felt horrible about lying, Happy figured if he couldn't help Brian he could help his next victim.

Happy wanted to handle Brian his own way, not as punishment for the bully's evil deeds. He wanted Brian to condemn himself, escape into his own trap, and see clearly how even he has consequences from his bullish behavior. Happy wanted Brian to think about what he had done. If Brian changed his ways he could still be forgiven. If the bully decided not to change, the next kid would still be safe. Happy was leaving and he couldn't leave this rat to be mean to somebody else. Above all, he wouldn't react with violence.

Counselor Rob went back to their dorm room and found Happy rolled over under his blanket. He suspected the boy wasn't sleeping but didn't stand idle to check. He didn't want to give himself away just yet.

Rob walked to his room and sat on his bed trying to determine the best path of action. The sun came up as he pondered his options. He hadn't heard Brian return dripping syrup. The good counselor stood up and walked out of the room, deciding only to accept his silver platter. Happy gave him what he wanted and he would take it.

It was an hour before morning roll call when Rob stepped back into the laundry room. He walked to the laundry cart and looked down on the stained towels. Everything appeared peaceful and inert. Rob considered pushing the cart down to the faculty lounge which would be bustling with counselors and administrators this time of morning. He could call the group to come watch as he peeled towels away to show his evidence. Rob decided against this. He thought it would be too boastful and petty. Settled, he reached down and began peeling towels away just to see the evidence for himself. He smiled when a shape started to shift beneath the mess.

"Who's in there?" Counselor Rob asked the hump of towels. He began yanking handfuls of gummy towels out rapidly when he didn't get an answer. "Who is that?" he asked again.

Brian never answered. He couldn't fight or flee. He had laid in the syrup covered cloth for hours. He was stuck and trapped like a rat. His round speckled face looked up at Counselor Rob, helpless and angry, in the center of the big plastic cart.

It was an image that would've brought fond memories for Mel Stotch, memories of his beautiful, resourceful son. He would've recognized Brian as he recognized those rats stuck in the box full of syrup when Happy was just four years old. Counselor Rob stared down at the rat with a smirk, a rat who once was a king.

"Brian," Rob asked, "Why didn't you answer me?"
Brian knew he was caught and what it all meant. "Fuck you," he spit back.
Rob just shook his head, calm and victorious.
"This violates your probation Brian," he advised, "for the very last time."

The commotion was contagious. Once word of Brian's botched escape hit the rumor mill, it spread quickly. At the morning assembly, it was all the talk. The smell of escape incited restlessness in the boys. No one could focus or talk about school. The head administrator finally restored enough order to hold roll call close to an hour late. The trash trucks had come and gone.

When there was no answer for Happy Stotch, counselor Rob was able to deflect criticism as he was busy discovering Brian. Rob remained silent about all he knew, only admitting that he went to the laundry room for some fresh towels and found the stowaway. He had taken Brian straight to the administration office as is the procedure for such a find. Happy had been in his room with Brian at light out. That was his last scheduled opportunity to check.

By the time a search started for Happy, the boy was riding in the back of a trash truck, poking his head out of a plastic bag to check if they had reached the highway. An odor of rot and filth welcomed him home early. Happy pumped his fists and cheered his freedom. He was going home.

The children's center wouldn't contact the police until well into the afternoon. The residential committee is stringent about avoiding bad press. A call to the police could just as easily be a call to the local newspaper. After hours of scanning the premises, the maintenance and security crews cleared every foot of the property. Counselor Rob was called to dig up his file history and look for ideas. It would be the next day when an officer was finally dispatched to the city dump. That call would prove fruitless as no one was home. And Mel Stotch would never return.