bad boys

March 2087. Harry Alonso is 13, Marlie is 30. Eric Powell is 15, Chantal is 39. Daniel Levin is 32.








On the evening of February 19, 2087, 11:00pm in the Railway District of Fort Palmetto, two minor boys—Eric Powell, age 15, and Harry Alonso, age 13—were arrested and charged with disturbing the peace, noise complaints, and brawling in public.


Eric Powell is the only son of district representative Chantal Powell, who loudly proclaimed at the booking desk that her son was no delinquent and she demanded to speak to someone's supervisor. After reiterating who she was and what position she held, she also demanded that no information should be released about her son's involvement in anything and she'd promptly be in touch with her lawyer.


Fifteen minutes later, she retrieved her son from behind bars.

"It's not my fault, Mom, I promise," Eric complained. "I was just going over to practice some songs for the band, and he jumped me. He broke my guitar. I thought we were friends."


"Don't say any more," Chantal said. "You can tell it to your lawyer. We have to press charges. I’m a representative now. I’m a business owner and I have a standing in this community. I will not have a hooligan for a son. So, if that boy attacked you like you say he did, if it’s not your fault, then we are pressing charges. He's not your friend anymore. You’re getting a haircut and you’re losing that jacket. I ought to send you to stay with your father for a while. You know the moment his prissy new wife catches wind that I had to bail you out of the slammer, she’s going to give him hell. And he’ll give you hell. And I wonder if you need some hell."


If there was ever any doubt who started the fight and whose fault it was, there probably shouldn't be. Harry started that fight. And he wasn't even sorry about it. Shitty privileged rich boys with four guitars need to be clocked in the head sometimes, he thought.

It was hours before anyone would come to bail Harry out of jail. His mother was not a district representative. In fact, his mother, a nursing technician, worked the graveyard shift at the ER and couldn't just leave work whenever she wanted. She wouldn't have a lawyer ready for anyone to speak to, and she'd probably have to scramble to even come up with the bail money, later having to beg for an extension on their rent next month. "And why do you have to do this to us, Harry? I'm tired. I'm so, so tired."


Harry's mother made it to the station with bail money some time before sunrise. This was the third altercation Harry had been involved in this year. Marlie wasn't sure if her son knew how quickly his strikes were running out.

—

So Eric was sent to stay with his father for a while. In the Hubbard household, there was to be no brawling or being bailed out of jail in the middle of the night. They wondered if Chantal's busy new representative position had left him neglected and open to bad influences. But Christopher was an elementary school teacher and his wife was home during the days. Eric would thrive, they decided, under his father's watch, with his charming little angelic siblings and his stern and snobby stepmother.


The first order of business: he would lose that ruffian jacket and get a hair cut. Next, he would adhere to a strict 7:00 p.m. curfew, and the only band he'd be allowed to play in was the high school marching band.


Their home was orderly and boring. Eric had chores and babysitting duty from 3:00 to 5:00 every week day. "You'll thank us later," his stepmother promised him. "Think of this as a turning point in your life. Responsibilities shape a young man. You'll see."

—

In March, the court date came. The Powell-Hubbard family pressed charges against Harry. They hired a lawyer and wanted the record to reflect no fault on Eric's part, no less than squeaky clean. They also wanted $700 to replace Eric's guitar, which he claimed Harry smashed over the sidewalk in a fit of rage before he clocked Eric three times in the head. And Chantal wanted to be reimbursed for the bail and court costs as well.


Marlie couldn't afford a lawyer for her son, not even a cheap one. She couldn't afford to take her son out for a head to toe makeover before his court date. And she certainly couldn't afford the court costs, fees, and reimbursement of that broken guitar.

Beyond the monetary compensation, Harry was also sentenced to twenty hours of community service and anger management classes, to be approved by a licensed social services representative, which she would now have to report to monthly since this was Harry's third strike with the authorities. Marlie never thought she was mother of the year, but she also never imagined herself turned into the social services for her failures in parenting.

Marlie was beyond mad, she was ruined. She would have to take out a loan to pay for it all.

"That rich asshole has four guitars already," Harry tried to reason with a yawn. "Who cares if one got broke?"

Harry's dismissive attitude impressed no one in the court room that day. There was a long list of character values that Marlie had failed to teach this child, including manners, empathy, and respecting other people's property. Was it too late for them now? Marlie was at a complete loss and had no idea what to do.


Daniel was Marlie's boyfriend of only four months, but he was a good friend. Her only friend, she sometimes thought. He was the kind of guy who encompassed manners, and empathy, and respect, and all those things she failed to teach Harry. So she trusted Daniel's advice. She was grateful for it.

Daniel suggested military boarding school, an idea that felt extreme, but sensible. It also felt a little bit like writing off her problems for someone else to fix.

Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing since she'd failed so badly at fixing her own problems herself.

But how would this look to Harry? Like they were writing him out of their lives so they could start over fresh?

Marlie didn't want to do that, but Harry just made it all so difficult.

Daniel really enjoyed spending time with Marlie, but Harry and his problems put a damper on a lot of things, including their budding new romance. As much as he'd heard about the unruly boy, Daniel had still not met Harry in person. He was afraid to meet Harry, he could say in honesty. Marlie had promised him, one hundred percent certain, that it would not go well. So she visited Daniel's apartment for a few hours some evenings, but she never stayed through the night.

Daniel was going away on a long mission in a few years, and he really hoped to be settled down when he did. He wanted a wife and kids of his own. He hoped Marlie might be part of that future. She could use the support as well, it seemed. He honestly wasn't trying to write Harry off, but he really thought some discipline would work wonders for the young man. And if Marlie needed help with the tuition bills for military boarding school, Daniel wanted to help. In fact, if she agreed to marry him, as a military man himself, the military school would be discounted. She'd be set for life. And so would Harry, if he would accept it.


Daniel's proposal must have been what most women would consider the least romantic proposal ever offered, but Marlie could only dream of having all of her problems taken care of that easily and tied up in a pretty bow. Marlie dreamed of a fresh start with Daniel. She’d be a military wife. They would have one, maybe two new babies. She wouldn't even need to work unless she wanted to. They would have a home and a steady income, rent always paid, food always in the refrigerator. What a life.

And maybe she would fail those babies just like she failed Harry. Or maybe it would be easier with help, with a father involved. With a father like Daniel. She wanted to try. She wanted a fair shot at that kind of life.


But she couldn't stay and dream for long. She had an unruly thirteen-year-old at home to deal with.

—

When she came home from her night nursing shift, the apartment smelled like day-old milk left to curdle in a nearby cereal bowl. Marlie didn't ask for much from Harry. Only that he went to school (she didn't even demand that he get good grades!) and picked up after himself from time to time. She rarely even got that much out of the boy. But she expected him to give her this one thing—a fair shot at a better life. He owed it to them both.


So she told Harry about Daniel, her boyfriend—no, fiance, maybe. She had all but said, "Yes."


"I'm not going to military school. I'm not moving in with him. You can't make me. I'll run away."

Don't worry if he doesn't like the idea, Daniel had told her. You're the parent here. You get to say. So just say it. And let me know what you decide. I'll take care of everything.

Marlie wasn't sure if the message got through as she told Harry, through his shouting, through his threats, that this was the way things were going to be. But she told him. Then he slammed himself inside his bedroom and cranked up the music.


Marlie went to her own bedroom, and she called Daniel. "Daniel, yes. Yes to everything. Yes."

—

footnotes: when Marlie met Daniel // detention rat