‘“Hello?”
“Miss Wade?” A woman asks on the other end.
“Yes?” I furrow my brow, wondering what this could be about.
“This is Sarah Parker with Park and Recreations.”
My heart drops in my chest as I realize this is about Zach. That’s the only explanation. I pulled every string I could to get his public service moved. I lean slightly against the chair, my hand resting on the back as I lower myself down into the seat. “Yes?” I ask again cautiously.
“I’m calling because Zach White didn’t show up for his service today. And he had you listed as his contact.” I nod my head, my throat closing and my eyes shut tight.
“Oh,” I finally manage to say, disappointment lacing my words.
There’s a slight pause before the woman continues. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to have to give a call to his parole officer.”
Anger rips my chest as I force out my words. “Okay thank you. I’ll try to get a hold of him.” I’m so pissed at him. I’m upset, but more than anything, I’m angry. Why couldn’t he just do this? Why?
“I’m sorry. You have a nice day.”
“You too.” I say as the line goes dead.
Feeling the hurt spread through my chest, I turn in my seat and face the laptop. I need to email Zach and try to talk some sense into this boy’s head. It really pisses me off that he wasn’t there today. I thought he was really going to try. He told me he would. He told me he was grateful. Some gratitude.
Muttering angrily under my breath, I open my inbox, but before I can start drafting an email, I see a message pop up..
To: Ms Wade
From: Zach White
Hey don’t be mad at me
I know ur gonna be pissed at me and think I’m lying but i wasnt able 2 show up to my community service because I cut my hand really bad and ended up in the hospital. Then I went home and caught a fever. If you can call my parole officer and tell him what’s up? My cell doesn’t work and the land line is dead.
Thank u
Zach
“Oh Zach how I want to murder you,” I practically growl as I finish reading his message. I’m not sure that I even believe him. I grit my teeth, trying to decide what the right move to make is. I remember the way he was in class. The way he tried. He was honest to me then. I nod my head, remembering the days where he really put forth effort. He is a good kid. I know he is. I’m going to call his parole officer and try to smooth things over.
I pick up my cell and dial the officer’s number. No one answers, but I leave a message on the voicemail, stating that Zach is going through some things right now and if the officer can please bear with him and not come down too hard on him. He’ll be there next time.
I let out a frustrated sigh when I hang up the phone, wondering what I should do. After a moment, I mutter, “Fuck it,” grab my coat, and walk out the door. I need to check on Zach. I slam the door shut behind me. I shouldn’t go there, this is a job for his parole officer. But I need to really talk some sense into him. And see if he’s lying to me and playing me for a fool.
Anxiety grips my stomach as I roll through the seedy neighborhood, the dilapidated houses making my skin crawl. I don’t ever like coming to the south side of town. It’s known for it’s gangs, drugs, violence and prostitutes. I only come this way if I have to. Or if I care so much about a person that I’m willing to risk my personal safety, like now.
Damn it, Zach, I growl inwardly, trying to calm my frayed nerves.
After passing several run down townhouses, I turn a corner onto the street Zach lives on, my palms clammy as hell as I grip the steering wheel, my eyes darting around like a cat, looking for any sign of danger. I relax a little after I pass several residences that have decent lawns. The houses look a little better on this street, but I still wouldn’t want to be caught walking here after dark.
I ride past several more slightly beat up houses until I see a crowd of kids standing just outside a gated two-story stucco house. I spot Zach almost immediately, his tall figure and platinum blonde hair standing out like a sore thumb. They’re all out there laughing, some of them smoking weed, while others twist around on skateboards on the cracked concrete. Anger washes over me as I watch Zach laugh at a joke one of the kids cracks as he huffs out a large cloud of smoke from his lips. Both hands visible. He cut his hand so fucking bad that he had to go to the hospital, but doesn’t need a bandage? Yeah, okay. Tears prick my eyes, but I hold onto the anger.
I grip the steering wheel tightly, gritting my teeth as it hits me. He lied to me. I knew he probably wasn’t telling the truth, but seeing it confirmed before my eyes makes my blood boil.
A part of me wants to jump out of the car and drag him to community service. But he has his own car and I know he can take himself. He obviously just didn’t want to.
I roll up alongside the crowd and several heads turn towards my way, including Zach’s. I give him a look as he spots me, letting him know how much he’s pissed me off. He stares back at me for a moment, but makes no move to come towards me. I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, waiting, hoping he will. I’m giving him a chance to come over, apologize and explain himself. To make things right.
But to my absolute surprise, he turns his back to me, pretending as if I’m not even there.
“Zach!” I call out to him and he pauses in his step for a moment, but keeps going.
Shocked, I watch as he walks off with the group of kids, one of them even pointing at me and making some sort of joke that causes Zach to burst out into laughter.
Anger and hurt twist my chest as I watch them walk away, being rowdy and unruly. I know he may not want to seem uncool in front of his friends, but I can’t believe Zach would do this. This isn’t the kid I know.
I don’t know what to do. I want to help this boy, but you can’t help someone that doesn’t want to be helped. That’s what’s so hard about this job. It’s not easy to turn someone’s life around. You can give them the best advice in the world, but if they don’t listen or take the initiative, there’s nothing you can do.
It’s definitely not how I thought it would be when I signed up for it. I thought I would be able to tell children my story, give them a sense of hope, let them know that I was here for them, and everything would be alright.
It’s a job that’s much harder than I ever thought it would be.
Maybe it will get better with the middle school kids, I tell myself. But deep down, I feel like I’m lying to myself. I shake my head as I sit at the stop sign in my car. I refuse to let Zach give up on himself. I won’t stop trying. Even if he doesn’t listen. I won’t give up on him.
I reach the highway and get on it, flying down the road like a bat out of hell. Shaking my head and biting back tears, I turn the radio on full blast, mindlessly singing along to a pop tune. I don’t even slow down when I pass the highway exit that will take me to my townhouse. Instead, I turn onto a highway that will take me to the upscale part of town.
I need a distraction.
And I know exactly where to get it.
Chapter 10
Joseph