Chapter 2 - The Boy Who Said He Was Fine
The next morning, Gabriel was at the breakfast table before Ben.
That alone was unusual enough that Ben stopped at the doorway.
“You’re up.”
Gabriel folded the newspaper.
“So are you.”
“It’s seven fifteen.”
“I’m aware.”
Ben sat across from him.
Elena placed eggs and toast between them, then set Ben’s navy lunchbox on the counter.
Gabriel watched his son look at it.
Only for a second.
Then Ben reached for toast.
“What do you have today?” Gabriel asked.
“School.”
Gabriel gave him a flat look.
Ben sighed.
“Science. English. History. Math.”
“Lunch?”
Ben looked up.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to ask me about lunch every day now?”
“Maybe.”
“That sounds annoying.”
“It probably will be.”
Ben ate half a piece of toast.
Gabriel watched him.
It was remarkable how much a parent could fail to see while believing he noticed everything.
He knew Ben’s grades.
He knew the names of his teachers.
He knew his school schedule and orthodontist appointments and the exact balance of the custodial account established for him before birth.
He did not know who Ben sat beside at lunch.
He did not know why his son requested an apple he hated.
That irritated him.
Not because Ben had hidden something.
Because Gabriel had made hiding easy.
“Do you have a friend who likes apples?” he asked.
Ben froze with his glass halfway to his mouth.
There.
Gabriel almost felt guilty for the satisfaction of finding a weak point.
“Lots of people like apples.”
“Anyone in particular?”
“No.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“You tell me lying is useful sometimes.”
Gabriel stopped.
Ben took another bite.
“When have I told you that?”
“You didn’t.”
“Then?”
“You do it.”
Gabriel looked at him.
Ben’s voice was not accusing. That somehow made it worse.
“I’m going to school,” Ben said.
“You haven’t finished breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Gabriel closed his eyes for a second.
There it was again.
Not hungry.
He stood.
“I’ll drive you.”
“The driver’s outside.”
“I know.”
Ben stared at him.
“You’re being weird.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“I know.”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow.
Ben grabbed his backpack before his father could ask what that meant.
During the twenty-minute drive to Hawthorne, Ben spent most of the time looking out the window.
Gabriel did not press him.
He had spent the previous night thinking about Hannah Cole’s advice.
Ask why he doesn’t trust you with the answer.
Gabriel disliked the sentence because it suggested the problem might involve him.
He preferred enemies.
Enemies were simple.
They wanted something.
Children were harder.
At the curb, Ben reached for the door.
“Ben.”
He paused.
Gabriel wanted to say, If someone is hurting you, I’ll handle it.
Instead he said, “Have a good day.”
Ben looked surprised.
“Okay.”
“And eat your lunch.”
Ben rolled his eyes.
“Almost normal,” Gabriel muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Ben got out.
Gabriel watched him walk toward the school entrance.
Another boy stood near the steps.
Small for his age. Brown hair in need of a cut. Gray backpack with one strap repaired using black tape.
Ben saw him and lifted a hand.
The other boy smiled.
They went inside together.
Gabriel looked at his driver.
“Do you know who that is?”
“No, sir.”
Gabriel nearly told him to find out.
Then Hannah Cole’s voice returned.
A list of twelve-year-olds to investigate.
Gabriel exhaled through his nose.
“Forget it.”
At noon, Hannah stood at the far end of the cafeteria pretending to organize permission slips.
She had promised herself she would observe without interfering.
Ben sat at a table near the windows.
Beside him was Owen Mercer.
Hannah knew Owen’s situation only in fragments. His father had missed several tuition payments before moving Owen into an assistance program. His clothes were clean but increasingly worn. He had stopped buying hot lunch in late October.
Today Owen had a carton of milk and nothing else.
Ben opened his lunchbox.
Hannah watched.
Turkey sandwich.
Pretzels.
Cookie.
Apple.
Ben glanced around.
Then he did something she had seen twice but never clearly enough to understand.
He removed the apple and placed it beside Owen’s milk.
Owen shook his head.
Ben said something.
Owen shook his head again.
Ben shrugged, took the apple back, then opened his sandwich.
Hannah’s attention shifted as another student asked her a question.
By the time she looked back, Ben’s sandwich was gone.
Owen was chewing.
Ben had the pretzels.
Hannah felt something settle into place.
But not completely.
After lunch, she called Gabriel.
He answered on the second ring.
“What happened?”
“Nothing bad.”
“That is an inefficient way to start a phone call.”
“I saw Ben at lunch.”
Silence.
“And?”
“I think you should come tomorrow.”
“Why not tell me now?”
“Because I’m not certain yet.”
“Ms. Cole.”
“You told me yesterday you wanted facts.”
Gabriel leaned back in his office chair.
“I did.”
“So let me get them.”
He hated that she was right.
“What did you see?”
“I saw him sharing food.”
“With who?”
“I’m not giving you a name yet.”
Gabriel’s voice sharpened.
“If another student is taking his lunch—”
“I did not say that.”
“Was Ben eating?”
“A little.”
“How little?”
“Mr. Leone.”
“Hannah.”
It was the first time he had used her first name.
She noticed.
“So now we’re using first names?”
“I’m trying not to lose patience.”
“That must be difficult.”
He almost hung up.
Instead he asked, “Is my son safe?”
“Yes.”
The answer came without hesitation.
His shoulders loosened slightly.
“Then I’ll wait.”
That afternoon, Gabriel did something he had not done in years.
He arrived early.
He parked across from the school rather than at the front entrance and watched students leave.
Ben came out with Owen.
Gabriel recognized the repaired backpack.
The boys walked toward a bench near the athletic field.
Owen pulled a crumpled paper bag from his backpack.
Ben opened his lunchbox.
Gabriel narrowed his eyes.
From this distance, he could not hear them.
He watched Ben take out the cookie.
Owen shook his head.
Ben pushed it toward him.
Owen pushed it back.
They argued quietly.
Then Ben laughed.
He broke the cookie in half.
They each took a piece.
Gabriel sat motionless.
It did not look like coercion.
It looked like friendship.
For the first time in two days, relief moved through him.
Then a different thought followed.
If Ben was simply sharing with a friend, why lie about it?
Why come home hungry?
Why hide it from his father?
Gabriel waited until Owen left.
Ben walked toward the waiting car.
He stopped when he saw Gabriel in the back seat.
“You’re here.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Ben climbed in.
For half the drive, Gabriel said nothing.
Then, casually, “Who was your friend?”
Ben’s face changed.
Not much.
Enough.
“Owen.”
“Owen what?”
“Why?”
“Conversation.”
“You don’t do conversation like that.”
Gabriel looked out the window.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you already know something.”
Gabriel smiled without humor.
“I know you gave him half a cookie.”
Ben turned toward him.
“You were watching me?”
“I came early.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No.”
Ben’s jaw tightened.
Gabriel recognized his own expression on his son’s face and hated it.
“I’m not spying on you.”
“You were literally sitting in a car watching me.”
“Fine. Technically, I was watching.”
“That’s spying.”
“Ben.”
“What?”
Gabriel lowered his voice.
“Is Owen taking your food?”
Ben stared at him.
“No.”
“Are you giving it to him?”
Silence.
“Ben.”
The boy looked toward the window.
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to.”
“You come home hungry.”
“So?”
“So you’re twelve.”
Ben’s face flushed.
“He’s twelve too.”
That stopped Gabriel.
The car continued through the suburbs.
Gabriel studied his son.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Does Owen not have lunch?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Ben.”
“Stop.”
“Does he?”
Ben turned sharply.
“Why do you have to know everything?”
“Because I’m your father.”
“That doesn’t mean everything is yours.”
Gabriel felt the words land somewhere uncomfortable.
Ben crossed his arms.
The rest of the ride passed in silence.
That evening, Gabriel called Hannah.
“Owen.”
She was quiet for a moment.
“You found out.”
“My son told me.”
“Eventually?”
“That’s not relevant.”
“It sounds relevant.”
Gabriel ignored that.
“Is his family having financial problems?”
“I can’t discuss another student’s private records.”
“I didn’t ask for records.”
“You’re asking about his family.”
“Because my son is going hungry.”
“Your son is choosing to share.”
“Too much.”
“Probably.”
Gabriel stood at the window of his study.
“What do you know?”
Hannah sighed.
“Only what I can appropriately tell you. Owen stopped buying cafeteria lunch. Ben noticed. I believe Ben has been giving him food voluntarily.”
“And you’re sure no one is pressuring him?”
“Pretty sure.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
Relief.
There it was.
But Hannah was not finished.
“There’s something else.”
He opened them.
“What?”
“Today I asked Ben if he wanted me to contact Owen’s family about meal assistance.”
Gabriel waited.
“He panicked.”
“Panicked how?”
“He told me not to call anyone.”
Gabriel’s grip tightened on the phone.
“Why?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
“Then tomorrow I will.”
“Mr. Leone.”
Gabriel’s voice dropped.
“No. If this is just kindness, I’m proud of him. But Ben is acting like helping that boy has to stay secret.”
Hannah was silent.
Gabriel looked at the dark window.
“And people don’t hide good deeds unless they’re afraid of what happens when someone finds out.”
The next day provided him with the first real clue.
It came from Ben himself.
At dinner, Gabriel finally said, “I can help Owen’s family.”
Ben dropped his fork.
“No.”
Gabriel stared.
“No?”
“Don’t.”
“I haven’t even said what I’d do.”
“I know what you’d do.”
“What would I do?”
“You’d call somebody.”
“If they need help—”
“Dad, don’t.”
The fear in Ben’s voice was real.
Gabriel leaned forward.
“Why?”
Ben swallowed.
Then said the one sentence Gabriel did not expect.
“Because his dad already knows who you are.”
Gabriel went still.
Ben immediately looked down.
The room changed.
Not because Gabriel understood.
Because he didn’t.
“Who is his father?”
Ben said nothing.
Gabriel’s voice became quiet.
“Ben.”
May you like
His son’s eyes lifted.
“You really don’t remember?”
