Save Me, Page 3

CHAPTER THREE

  The Punishment

  Martin walks into Mr. Burke's office with his shoulders slumped and head down. Mr. Burke tells him that his parents are still in the lobby speaking with Mr. Bowen. Mr. Burke advises Martin to sit in his office and wait. So Martin sits down and waits.

  And waits. And waits.

  Martin shifts in his chair as anxiety builds in his stomach. His palms are sweaty and his legs are shaky. Finally, his mother and father come in with Mr. Burke. They take the seats to the right of Martin’s chair. Mr. Burke sits at his desk with hands clasped and eyes closed, as if in meditative thought.

  His father turns to look at him, examining the bruises on his face with the unreadable expression of an oak tree. Mrs. West is the first to speak.

  “What happened?” she asks.

  “Mom, it wasn't my fault!” Martin begins. “Johnny was asking for it.” Martin’s mother gives him a look, and Martin pauses, reconsidering his approach. 

  “Mom, I'm sorry I fought Johnny,” he states with feigned sincerity, “but this really isn't my fault.”

  Mr. Burke interrupts, “Johnny and a few other eye witnesses at the scene claim that you perpetrated the fight.”

  Martin scowls at Mr. Burke’s interruption.

  “Eye witnesses?” Martin bristles. “Are you trying to impress my dad with your ability to use legal terms, Burky?”

  “Martin...” Mrs. West gives him a warning look.

  “What?” Martin glares at Mr. Burke. “We all know you’re planning on being a lawyer one day, or is it a judge? But I wonder, will that be before or after you’re finished making my life miserable?”

  Mr. Burke swallows. “No one here is trying to make your life miserable, Martin.”

  “Oh, my mistake,” Martin replies sarcastically. “I thought that’s what adults with no life did in their spare time.”

  “Martin, cut it out,” his father orders. “Why did you start the fight?”

  Martin curbs his disdain for Burke long enough to think up a rational response.

  “It was self-defense.” Martin replies. “Johnny threatened me, and I had to protect myself.” Johnny had called him a name. He had to protect his reputation.

  Mr. West turns in his chair. “So, if you hadn't hit Johnny first, Johnny would have hit you. Is that what you're saying?”

  “Yeah… I mean, no; I...I don't know, it all happened so fast.” Martin gives his mother a pleading look, but her icy glare is not at all comforting.

  “Martin, I thought we were done with all this,” his father speaks impatiently. “Didn’t you learn your lesson the last time?”

  Martin bows his head low. The first week of the year, he’d been in a fight. It was the first time he’d ever lost one, too.

  “Dad, that fight was different!” Martin tries to defend himself.

  His mother nods in agreement. “Edward that was a separate issue. Those boys attacked him unprovoked.”

  Martin nods in concession with his mother. The first fight occurred in early August. Steve and Josh, two members of the football team, had decided that Martin needed to be taught a lesson.

  It was the first day of school and Martin was headed to his homeroom. He was walking down the hall when he spotted one of his friends he'd known since preschool. Along the way, Martin accidentally stepped on someone's foot. The owner called out a warning; Martin said something inaudible and kept going.

  It wasn’t until he heard their insults that he’d confronted them.

  •••

  “Hey, wait a second!” Steve called out to Martin. “Come back here! Josh, you just gonna let him walk away without saying sorry?”

  “I'll get him later,” Josh shrugged. “You’d better watch your step, West!” Josh called after Martin. The two began to bad mouth Martin loud enough for everyone in the hallway to hear.

  Martin’s temper boiled with each insult, until finally he turned around to confront the two boys. Josh was a football player – the star quarterback to be precise – a senior, about 6'2” and 280 lbs, according to the LHS Student Newspaper. His hands could easily wrap around the diameter of Martin's head. The kids in the hallway stared curiously as Martin approached Josh and Steve.

  Josh saw Martin returning and greeted him with the cliché, “What are you looking at?”

  For a moment, Martin's voice abandoned him and he only gawked in reply. Josh's friend, Steve, started his taunting afresh.

  “Hey, you stepped on the King’s foot,” Steve sneered, using Josh’s nickname.

  Martin rolled his eyes and his voice returned. “What kind of stupid name is that? You were the homecoming king last year. Big whoop.”

  Steve frowned. “You got a big mouth, kid. If you wanna keep your teeth, I suggest you keep it shut!” He laughed and turned to Josh, who smirked in accession.

  Martin studied Steve; his body was thin and toneless, his posture was weak, and he had more mouth than muscle. Easy target.

  “At least I’ve got teeth worth keeping. Your teeth are so yellow I thought you had a gold grill in your mouth.”

  Steve frowned and swelled his chest. “You’d better watch it, kid.”

  “Or what? You’re gonna breathe on me?” Martin shoved Steve just as the morning bell rang.

  Steve jerked his fist in retaliation, but Josh stopped him.

  “We’ll get him later,” Josh pushed Steve down the hall as he glared at Martin. “We’ll be seeing you.”

  Martin had hoped it would be the last he saw of the two, but it wasn't. Two days later, Steve and Josh cornered Martin as he was walking home from school, jumping him before he could make it out of the parking lot. Martin received two days of suspension and a week of detention for the fight, although he didn’t hit either one of them. Martin did swing at Steve, however, who ducked, causing Martin's fist to connect with the person behind him - a teacher trying to intervene.

  Martin’s parents had very reluctantly defended his story of self-defense then, but they knew as well as he did that there was more to the story. Still, they insisted that two boys ganging up on one was inexcusable. Mr. West’s status as the District Attorney ensured that Steve and Josh didn’t get off easy. Martin wasn't really sure what happened to the two boys, but he hadn't seen them after that.

  •••

  “Unprovoked isn’t the best term to use,” Mr. West scowls.

  “So, what is it that we have to do?” Mrs. West scolds Martin. “You obviously haven’t learned that nothing good can come from fighting.”

  Mr. West nods. “I agree. Martin, you can’t let yourself fly off the handle like this!”

  “Were you thinking of the consequences?” his mother continues. “Mr. Burke could have you expelled, or taken off the basketball team –” The cries of protest from both Mr. West and Principal Burke cut off his mother’s lecture.

  Mr. Burke clears his throat. “Well, um, I don’t think it’s come to that, Mrs. West. After all, it would be a great disappointment to the team if Martin didn’t play this year.”

  “Yes, the team shouldn’t be punished for Martin’s misbehavior,” Mr. West adds.

  Mrs. West raises her eyebrows. “So, what are you suggesting, Mr. Burke?” she asks.

  •••

  Martin walks with heavy steps out of Mr. Burke's office. He has suspension for the rest of the week. Four days isn't bad, but it’s still tough. What will his parents make him do for four days?

  •••

  “No! Mom, not him!” Martin groans.

  He and his mother discuss what he’ll be doing during his suspension while his father finishes up some work in his office.

  “You're complaining?” his mother scoffs.

  “No,” Martin answers slowly. “But four whole days?” He sighs in frustration. “Mom...”

  “Actually, no,” his mother shakes her head. Martin looks at her, hopeful. “It will be five days, including Saturday.”

  Martin’s face falls to the ground. “What
? But mom! He'll—”

  “No buts, Martin. You're staying with Mr. James and that's final. I'll take you over there tomorrow, so have your things packed tonight.”

  “That overzealous fanatic?” Martin scowls. Mr. James is the youth pastor at his parents’ church. His parents always go to Mr. James for advice on how to deal with Martin.

  “He’s not an overzealous fanatic, Martin,” his mother sighs. “He’s a very wise person who can help you with your problem.”

  “You always go to him for advice, Mom, and it’s obviously not working. How do you figure me spending a week with him is going to be any different? Besides, I don’t have any problem.”

  His mother looks at him. “Oh no? Martin your temper is out of control-”

  “Here we go,” Martin rolls his eyes.

  His mother continues, “You don’t know how to control your emotions, you follow whatever impulse you have, and you’ve just been suspended for fighting in school. Again. You don’t think you have a problem?”

  Martin groans. “Mom, all he’s going to do is quote that same stupid scripture over and over about a man ruling his spirit and blah blah blah.”

  “He who controls his anger is better than the mighty, and he who rules his spirit stronger than a city,” his mother quotes.

  “Yeah, that, whatever,” Martin sighs. “Look, I’ll behave myself forever, just don’t send me to that guy, he’s a psycho!”

  “You’re going, Martin,” his mother frowns at him. “Don’t fight me on this.”

  Martin frowns. “You can’t just pack me up and send me off to stay with this guy. It’s not fair!”

  “We have a right to do what’s best for you, Martin,” his mother replies sternly. “Now go pack your stuff. We’re leaving early tomorrow.”

  “Ugh! This is bull!” Martin swings his arms in frustration, knocking a glass from the table.

  “Watch your tone!” Martin's father bellows as he leaves the office. “You haven't been given an option or preference, now get upstairs and pack, now!”

  Martin storms up the stairs and slams his door, muttering curses under his breath. Mrs. West sighs and glances at the mountain of school papers on the living room table.

  “I'm going to finish grading these and then I'll come to bed, okay?” she tells her husband. Nodding, he leans over and kisses her forehead before heading to their room.

  •••

  Mrs. West sighs as she sits on the bed beside her husband. “I can't believe this is happening again,” she exhales in frustration.

  “Honey, we're doing the right thing,” Mr. West comforts her. “Mr. James has a powerful testimony and it may be just what Martin needs to finally grow out of this.”

  Mr. West embraces his wife and kisses her softly. “Don't blame yourself, ok?”

  Mrs. West cries, “But Martin seems to be getting worse! And he won't talk to me. He cringes when I speak, and he moans like he’s in physical pain whenever I ask him questions about school or his friends. Every time I try to reach out to him, he shuts me out. I feel like I'm losing him.” Mrs. West begins to cry.

  “He's growing up. We can't make him stay a baby forever. All we can do is discipline him and pray. These are his choices, not yours.”

  “But what about all the bad examples we set for him?” she sniffles. “I mean with my drinking and –”

  Mr. West puts his hand up to stop her from continuing. “Admittedly, we haven't always been the best example to him, but we've taught him right from wrong. Now we need to leave the rest in God's hands.”

  “I know you're right,” she sniffs, wiping her tears with her hand. “But I'm so worried about him. What if he does something that we can’t fix? He's so angry, Edward. I'm just afraid for him.”

  Mr. West holds his wife tighter. “I know, Dear,” he says, praying a silent prayer. “I know.”

  •••

  Martin slams the door to his room and grabs the remote for his radio. He turns the music up full blast and grabs his cell phone. There’s a text from Max.

  Max: Herd abt susp u ok?

  Martin texts him back.

  Martin: 5 days n I got 2 stay w/Mr. Lame James.

  Max: Crazy preacher?

  Martin: Ya,. Bad enuf my parents make me go 2 church evry wk tryn 2 brainwash me.

  Max: Sry to hear it. Hang n there... Stay black.

  Martin: LOL… Stay white.

  Martin hears his father knocking on his door and rolls his eyes.

  “Martin, turn your music down!” he yells from behind the door. “It’s time to go to bed!”

  Martin frowns and turns his head, ignoring his father. Finally, Mr. West enters the room.

  “Didn’t you hear me?” Mr. West walks over to Martin’s stereo and unplugs it.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” Martin cries.

  “Saving whatever sense of hearing you may have left,” Mr. West replies sarcastically as he removes the stereo.

  “Why do you do that?” Martin frowns as he watches his father confiscate his radio. “I can’t even breathe without you or mom screaming at me!”

  “I told you to turn it down, Martin,” his father wraps the cord around the stereo.

  “I’m not even going to be here! Why do you have to pack it up?” Martin tries to take the stereo from his father.

  “Martin, you know the rules,” his father sighs and pulls the stereo away. “After nine o’clock, no loud music. Now, if you’d have used common sense and turned it down when I asked you, this wouldn’t be happening. But you don’t think, Martin.”

  “I’m sick of you and your rules!” Martin rolls his eyes. “Ever since you and mom started attending that…that church with Mr. James you’ve been ruining my life! I can’t go to parties, I can’t have a girlfriend, I can’t be out past ten, I can’t do anything remotely fun!”

  “Martin, your mother and I explained this to you before,” his father sighs. “We’re born again Christians now. We have a responsibility to make sure we set the right example for you. You’re not the only one who’s given up a few things. Your mother and I both gave up smoking and drinking and going to late night election parties because we want to live our lives righteously and we want you to do the same.”

  “It’s not an election year, dad, you don’t need to sell me on your moral uprightness,” Martin scowls. “I want things to go back to the way they were. I want to have fun with my friends without you screening them and checking up on me every five minutes.”

  “Martin I wouldn’t have to check up on you if you showed me I could trust you,” his father snaps.

  “Maybe if you stopped treating me like a criminal, I’d stop acting like one!” Martin snaps back.

  “That’s not how it works, Martin,” his father frowns. “I hope you learn a thing or two while you’re with Mr. James, because the way you’re headed now is trouble.”

  “Whatever,” Martin quips before turning on his iPod.

  Mr. West sighs before closing the door, stereo in hand.