Elemental

Past Interlude #17
San Diego, California - 2001

 

 

Scott had a look that Alex hated on sight. His body stiffened and his face stilled, just like a feral cat about to pounce on a pigeon. Even though Scott was still in North Salem, Alex just knew his pose; a blind man would know it from the tone of his voice. Well, it had been a long time since Alex as a pigeon-- if ever that was such a time-- and he wasn't about to be one now just because a has-been baseball benchwarmer and a reject from the Woodstock School of Cotton-Batting Prejudice ganged up on his family.

"What happened?" asked Scott.

Alex tensed up, too. "That's a stupid question," he said. "If you're calling at 5 A.M. Eastern time, you must know exactly what's going on."

"I can't believe you hit Adam's teacher."

"The guy was a dick!" Alex shot to his feet. "He just stood there while the other kids picked on him. Hell, he practically called him queer, too! And that stupid principal didn't do anything except get mad at Adam for defending himself. 'Exactly what I'd expect from your background' she said, like being a navy brat instantly made us, I dunno, gun-happy sociopaths or something. I'd like to piss in her tofu, the hypocritical old pothead."

"I'm certain delivering a right hook to the gym teacher's jaw went a long way from dissuading her of that fact." Scott sighed. "I bet you didn't even take a picture of her face after you beaned him."

"Oh, yeah? Well, you should have-- wait... what?"

"The gym teacher. You should've taken a picture. The principal made my life hell there, too."

The world had gone all wonky.

"You're... not mad at me any more?"

"I'm furious. You acted like a twelve year old but you're there and I'm here and besides, what am I going to do? Ground you too?" He exhaled again and this time Alex was aware of how tired Scott sounded. His stomach twisted a little. "Where was Dad while all of this was going on?"

"He has manoeuvres all week," said Alex.

"Of course he does. That's not including the manoeuvres at the local bar."

"Why are you always down on Dad?" Alex found himself saying.

"Why are you always for him?"

"I'm not," protested Alex. He had no idea where words were coming from. He was pissed off at Dad too but somehow, having a pleasant conversation with Scott was too weird. He needed the familiarity of shouting matches. "I just... don't think it's fair that you bash him when he's not around to answer back."

"Well, when he finds time to go home and remembers to pick up the houseline instead of his little black crackberry, I'll make sure to call and remind him that number of children no longer counts as measures of virility."

"Scott. Gross."

"I agree."

Awkward silence filled the phone line.

"You're still wrong."

"Fuck you."

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