Page 23 of Disciplinary Action
Gideon made a noise of impatience. “I can take you to wherever you call home or I can take you to the hospital. Those are your options. I suggest you choose quickly.”
The boy chewed on the inside of his cheek as he glowered at Gideon. “Home,” he finally said, sullen.
“Excellent.”
Gideon grabbed his keys and his wallet before helping Cal to his feet and taking the boy’s bag. He pulled open his office door only to come face to face with Mrs. Abernathy, who glared at Callum with equal amounts of disdain and distrust.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Callum has fallen ill, as you can see. I’m taking him home, so he can rest.”
Her features all seemed to bunch in the middle of her face. “Home? What home?”
Gideon returned the woman’s sour look. “Well, not mine, obviously. I’m taking him to his home.”
“What home? I heard his home was seized by the government.”
Callum leaned heavily against the door frame, staring at his shoes. He seemed too tired to even come up with any sort of retort. Gideon couldn’t blame him, the woman was odious. “I’m finding this conversation tiresome. I’ll take the boy to wherever he’s staying and make sure he’s comfortable and then I’ll return. I’m sure you can hold down the fort for an hour or so, can’t you?”
She scoffed. “I’ve been running this school since before you were born, Mr. Gideon.”
“It’sDr.Gideon.Mrs.Abernathy.”
The woman made a disapproving noise in the back of her throat before turning on her blocky sensible heel and storming off in the direction of the library. “Come along, little bird,” Gideon whispered.
It took twice as long as it should to get to the parking lot, and by the time he had Cal buckled into the passenger seat, a whole other fine sheen of sweat coated the boy, making his white uniform shirt stick to him like a second skin. Gideon once more pushed the boy’s hair off his forehead, letting his hand linger longer than necessary just because Cal leaned into the touch, lids closing with a sigh.
Once Gideon turned over the engine, he turned the AC vents towards Cal, careful not to make it too cold. Cal read off an address in midtown before slumping in his seat, his forehead pressed against the window. Gideon didn’t attempt to hold a conversation with the boy. He clearly needed rest. When he pulled up to a small pale green clapboard house with a neat porch, three hanging baskets full of impatiens, and a set of white concrete stairs leading to a purple door, he rolled to a stop.
“You’re here, little bird.”
Cal cracked his eyes open with great effort. “Thanks,” he muttered, opening the door.
“Wait. Do you still have a cell phone?”
Cal flushed and pulled out an older model flip phone. Gideon took it, saving his number. “You listen to me. If you need anything, you call me. Understand? I’m sure there’s somebody in that house who will take care of you, but if, God forbid, something goes wrong, call me.” Cal gave a stilted nod, one foot out the door. “No. Don’t nod. Say it.”
Cal eyed him warily. “If I need anything, I’ll call you.”
Gideon wasn’t convinced, but it was the best he could hope for under the circumstances. Honestly, he had no idea why he’d just offered up his private number to a boy he’d agreed to see only during school hours. Though, technically, Gideon supposed they’d never really discussed the terms of their arrangement in detail. As soon as the boy was feeling better, Gideon would make it a priority so there were no misunderstandings later.
He watched the boy until his hand was on the doorknob before pulling away from the curb. He’d only made it a block when he had the sudden urge to turn around and go back, to just check one last time and make sure the boy was okay. But how would he explain that? He couldn’t. He couldn’t explain it to himself. He couldn’t imagine explaining it to anybody else. It had been six long years since he’d been with the same person more than once—it was bound to fuck with his emotions. He pressed his foot down on the gas pedal, putting as much distance between himself and Cal as possible. That was all he needed really. Distance. Perspective.
Everything would be clearer once he had that.
Cal was tired, so very fucking tired. His stomach felt like somebody had put his organs in a blender, but he’d finally stopped vomiting some time ago. He didn’t know what day it was or even where he was. He thought he’d made it back to Gideon’s garage, but when he’d opened his eyes he was just walking, walking in the blinding sun. It was crisp and cool, but the sun seemed to be shining right into his eyes, beating down on his face until he was burning up.
He just needed to keep moving, putting one foot in front of the other. But everything was spinning, and sweat dripped into his eyes, blurring his vision. He was on the sidewalk…somewhere. There were lots of people but none he recognized. Just bodies, moving the opposite way down the sidewalk, all in tandem, all out of step with him, as if they’d learned the routine while he’d been sleeping.
He couldn’t read the street signs, but did it even matter? He had nowhere to go, nowhere to be. He just wandered blindly, the lone man on stage who didn’t know the dance number. He didn’t feel like a person. He felt like a pinball, ricocheting from wall to wall, stumbling over cracks in the sidewalk and curbs that seemed to come from nowhere and random bags of garbage that appeared like obstacles in a video game, there for no other reason than to trip him up.
He stumbled as his shoulder connected with something. “Hey, watch where you’re going, asshole,” a guy yelled, shoving him hard enough to send him face-first into a metal post. Pain exploded in his jaw, and he wondered if his tooth was gone. He poked at it with his tongue, stomach churning painfully as his mouth filled with copper. Maybe he was dead. Maybe he was dead and this was hell and this was his life now.
He clung to the metal post, pressing his forehead to the painted green surface, grateful for the coolness on his overheated skin. How could he be hot and cold at the same time? Hungry and sick at the same time? It had to be hell, right? Only some demon could make you feel everything and nothing all at once. He was so thirsty but the thought of anything in his gnawing empty belly made him groan.
Why hadn’t he stayed close to Bastian’s house? Just in case? They probably wouldn’t have noticed him in the crawl space under the porch. At first, the idea of sharing the space with the family of possums they’d seen under there a few weeks ago had seemed terrifying. But now, he’d consider sharing the space with a thousand cobras if it meant he could just lie down and not be afraid.
“You okay, baby?” a kind voice asked from beside him.
