The First Stone (12 page)

Leeza smiled again. “Mmm,” she said, then slept.

When she opened her eyes, her mother was sitting in a chair by her bed reading a magazine. “Hungry?” she asked, getting up.

Leeza was surprised to find that, yes, she
was
hungry. She tried to say so, but her tongue was a wool sock. She nodded.

Her mother pulled her tray table within easy reach, lilted a glass of whole milk and brought a straw to her lips. Leeza grimaced. She hadn't drunk milk since she was in junior high. “Calcium,” her mother said. “You need it for your bones.”

Leeza drew the liquid into her mouth, nearly gagged on its creaminess, had to force herself to swallow. “N'more,” she said.

Her mother shook her head. “Yes, more. There are lots of things on the list you aren't going to like, but you'll have to eat them anyway. They'll help speed up the healing process.”

“List?” Leeza asked.

“Aaah, the list. Sounds sinister, doesn't it?” Leezaand her mother looked up to see a young woman enter the room. “Hi, Leeza. I'm Valerie Harris. Everyone calls me Val. And you must be Mrs. Hemming.” She held out her hand and shook Diane's.

“Morrison, actually,” said Leeza's mother. “I remarried.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Don't be. I prefer Diane anyway.”

“Nice to meet you, Diane.” The woman turned to Leeza. “Hope I'm not interrupting anything, but we're on a schedule.”

“Are you a volunteer?” asked Leeza's mother.

The young woman grinned at her. “We do have volunteers here, but I'm not one of them. I'm Leeza's physiotherapist.”

Leeza was as surprised as her mother now looked. With her small frame, short dark hair and a dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks, the person standing in front of them looked more like a teenager than a health care worker.

“Oh, I'm very sorry—” Leeza's mother began, but the young woman interrupted her.

“Happens all the time. My husband tells me there'll come a day when I'll be glad I look like a high school student. I'd just settle for not being asked to show my ID at R-rated movies.”

Diane returned her smile. “Trust me, your husband's right.”

The physiotherapist grinned again, then turned to Leeza. “I'd like to go over your treatment before we get started, if that's okay with you. I know your doctor told you some things already, but I always think it's best if there are no surprises. Surprises sometimes have a way of becoming setbacks.”

Leeza nodded, and she and her mother listened as the woman outlined the various forms of therapy she would be receiving, the progression toward full mobility, indicators of improvement such as weight-bearing status and a dozen other aspects of her rehabilitation. Then, when she'd finished, she asked Leeza's mother if she would mind leaving. Seeing Diane's surprised expression, she continued, “Your support is extremely important. In fact, there are some therapies that Leeza's doctor and I will want you to be directly involved with. It's just that the first day can be tough and Leeza will need to focus. That's sometimes easier when no one else is here. Please don't be offended.”

“Not at all,” Leeza's mother said as she stood up. “I'm sure you know best.” She moved to Leeza's bed and leaned down to kiss her. “I'll be back this evening, okay?”

It wasn't okay. Maybe it was hearing about all she'd be going through in the weeks and months ahead. Maybe it was the look of apprehension she'd seen in her mother's eyes. Or maybe it was just the ominous sound of the words “the first day.” But Leeza noddedanyway, hoping her mother wouldn't see the fear in her own.

“So,” the physiotherapist said when Leeza's mother had left, “are you ready for day one?”

“Everybody, this is Reef.
Saaaay hiiiiiiii!”
Alex's voice fluttered up and down with his hands, which gestured like those of a game-show girl revealing the prize behind curtain number one. Standing in the kitchen doorway, Reef felt like anything
but
a prize. More like a contestant who'd wandered into a freak show by mistake and couldn't get out without answering a skill-testing question. The only problem was that nobody knew what the question was, just the penalty for losing: The Next Twelve Months Of Your Life.

“Hi, Reef.” The combined greetings from the four other people in the kitchen sounded false, like the singsongy welcome a bunch of preschoolers might give someone new at daycare. Three had barely glanced up, while a short kid, who looked like he belonged in daycare himself, ignored him completely. He sat at the kitchen counter staring at the back of a Cheerios box while slowly shoveling spoonful after spoonful of the soggy circles into his mouth, milk dribbling down his chin.

Before coming back downstairs. Reef had unpackedwhile Alex had filled him in about the staff—there were two part-timers who came on alternate days—and the other residents, who had already begun heading down to breakfast.

“Don't you mean inmates?” Reef had asked as he'd shoved socks and underwear into the top drawer of a dresser, then put his three T-shirts and two pairs of jeans in the drawers below. He'd hung his jean jacket in the closet and left his toothbrush, comb and razor sitting on the dresser top. He had nothing else.

“Reef honey, you don't
ever
want Frank to catch you using
that word.”

Reef gritted his teeth to keep from shoving Alex's “honey” down his goddamn throat. Once he got the lay of the land, though, he'd be putting that little faggot in his place fast, along with anyone else who thought they could say what they wanted to Reef Kennedy without paying the price.

“Why? Colville have a problem with the truth?”

Alex looked at him and grinned. “You don't know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“Frank's story.”

Reef scowled. “I've had more social workers than I can remember, and every one of ‘em had a story. Spare me the bleeding-heart bullshit.”

But Alex didn't. He told Reef how Colville had a rap sheet as long as his arm. Disturbing the peace, assault, breaking and entering, theft, possession of illegalsubstances. “You name it,” Alex said, “Frank did it, and most of it before he was twenty. He did some time in Dorchester.”

“So how d'you know all this?”

“They did a write-up on him a while back in some magazine. About how he cleaned himself up, kicked the drug monkey, stuff like that. When he got out of prison, he began an outreach program for kids in trouble, then got together enough money to buy this place. I think he got funding from somewhere to help with fixing it up.”

Reef was unimpressed. “Thinks he's the original bad boy, huh?” He snorted, thinking of Rowdy Brewster and his crew. “I know guys who'd eat him for breakfast. Colville don't scare me.”

Alex stared at him for a moment. Then, grinning, he struck a classic Hollywood diva pose and breathed, “Hold onto your hats, boys, ‘cause it's gonna be a bumpy ride.”

Reef smiled in spite of himself. Yeah, it'd be a bumpy ride all right. Until Frank Colville finally figured out who the driver was around here.

Coming downstairs. Alex had given Reef thumbnail sketches of the other guys currently living at North Hills: Gordy Towers, seventeen, multiple substance abuser: Owen White, sixteen, glue-sniffer and chronic runaway; Keith Benjamin, also sixteen, shoplifter extraordinaire; and Jimmy Franz, fourteen, pyromaniac with anger management issues. There hadbeen two other residents until the previous week, but one had broken his contract and got sent back to Riverview, and the other, as Alex put it, had graduated.

“Graduated?”

“You know, came out the other end. Turned citizen.”

Reef had no idea what any of that meant, nor did he care. “So what's your story?” he asked as they reached the foyer. He could have guessed, but he was curious what the homo would tell him.

Alex slid a long-sleeved arm around the carved pineapple newel post and batted his eyelashes. “Oh, honey, there's just
soooo
much to tell. You're gonna have to wait for the movie.”

Standing in the kitchen now, Reef put faces to the names Alex had given him earlier. It wasn't hard to tell which one was Gordy. The tallest of the group, he looked ghoulish: skin so white it was almost transparent, the blue veins on his arm writhing like snakes as he poured himself a glass of orange juice. The Cheerios kid, the shortest, was obviously Jimmy, and Reef tried to imagine what would motivate someone who couldn't bother to wipe the milk off his mouth to go to the trouble of starting fires. He got the other two wrong. Owen, the glue-sniffer, wasn't the overweight, acne-faced guy with the ring in his nose who was buttering what looked to be a whole loaf of bread. That was Keith. Owen, slicing up a banana, was the most normal-looking one of the bunch—slim, athletic type with short dark hair, square jaw. perfect teeth. The kind of guy you'd expect to see wearing Hilfiger sweats shooting hoops with his buddies while his cheerleader girlfriend watched from her daddy's BMW. Go figure.

Just then, Frank Colville came into the kitchen. “Morning, fellas.”

“Morning, Frank,” they all chorused, and Reef noticed even Jimmy looked up for that greeting.

“I see everyone's met Reef. Thanks, Alex.”

“My
pleasure
, Frank,” Alex said, flashing Reef a Colgate smile. Keith turned toward the pair and whistled, and Gordy made loud kissing noises.

Reef felt his neck and cheeks burn. He'd have given anything to knock Alex's smile clear into next year, followed immediately by Keith and Gordy's shit-eating grins.

“Guys, does that sound respectful to you?”

Sudden silence.

Then, “Sorry, Frank,” said Keith.

“Me, too,” Gordy mumbled.

“I'm not the person you should be apologizing to.”

The two turned to Reef and Alex. “Sorry.”

Reef shrugged. Their apology meant nothing—he was Just surprised they'd given in so quickly. They didn't
look
like pussies.

“You get anything to eat, Reef?” Frank asked.

“I'm not hungry.”

“If you change your mind, Just help yourself.” Frank turned to Owen. “You're on kitchen detail this week, right?”

Owen nodded.

“I'm putting Reef on with you.”

“No problem,” Owen said.

“Everybody doubles up on jobs here, Reef. There's a list on the wall in my office, and you'll rotate through different duties. You and Owen will be partnered up for the next few days.”

Like I fucking care
. Reef thought. But he realized Colville was waiting for a response, so he nodded. Noncommittally.

“Part of being accountable involves letting me know where you are at all times. You don't leave without my say-so, and where you go must be approved by me. You call to let me know you got there, and if something comes up and you're going to be late getting back, you call and let me know that, too.”

“Right.” Like
that'll
happen. “Anything else?”

“Just that I want you to feel free to come talk about anything at any time.”

“Right.” That'll happen, too.

Colville studied him for a moment, then nodded toward the back door that opened onto the deck. “Come with me for a minute, okay?”

He led Reef outside, across the deck and through the back yard toward the greenhouse. Close up, Reef could see a number of glass panels were cracked, and here and there some were missing. Colville stopped and turned to Reef. “You're giving me lip service right now. Most new residents do. I expect that.”

Reef said nothing.

Colville seemed to expect that, too. “Sooner or later, though, you and I are going to have to come to an understanding. It'd save us both a lot of headaches if it was sooner.”

Reef Just looked at him.

“See this greenhouse, Reef?”

“I'm not blind.”

“It's your responsibility now.”

“So what's that mean? I dust every Thursday?”

A muscle twitched in Colville's lower jaw, but he showed no other reaction to Reef's sarcasm. “Those cracked and missing panels need to be replaced. There's a tape measure in the tool drawer in the kitchen. Just ask one of the guys to show you. And there's usually paper and pencils on the counter.” He turned and headed back toward the house.

“And those would be for …?” Reef trailed off.

Colville never broke his stride. “You're a smart guy,” he called over his shoulder. “I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out for yourself.” When he got to the door, he turned. “Oh, and don't forget you're on kitchen detail with Owen.” He went inside.

Reef stood looking at the door, anger scrabbling up his throat, its sharp taste souring his mouth. “You prick,” he muttered, and his eyes scoured the loose soil around the greenhouse. It took him only seconds to find what he was searching for. He bent down and pried it loose from the ground, brushed the dirt fromits rough surface, took several steps back, then threw the rock as hard as he could, shattering one of the greenhouse panels. Reef smiled, suddenly feeling better than he'd felt in weeks.