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With a shrug, I shake off his suggestion. “Nah, I can’t stand liars.”
I wish him well one final time before I walk out of his office with a small sense of victory. The Ashill Woods Community Center is a small place, but I know in my heart it can do a world of good. If there were places like this where I grew up, I wouldn’t have to send birthday cards to one of my best friends in prison. Adam was a good kid. He and I did everything together from kindergarten all the way through to tenth grade. Then his father passed away, and he fell into the wrong crowd. No one stopped him. No one reached out to see what they could do to help. Within a year, a judge was handing him a life sentence for his part in an armed robbery gone bad.
At the time, I was just as young as Adam, and there wasn’t much that I could do besides tell him that he was on the wrong path. It’s because of him and my past that I decided to get into social work, and it’s why I feel like I can really help the kids here at the community center.
I don’t want another kid to fall through the cracks. At least not while I’m around.
I have a small office toward the back of the community center. I need to finish unpacking, but there’s been so much to do that I never do. The office may be tiny, but at least there is enough space for me to put in a small couch.
One of the few memories I have from any time I’ve visited a social worker was how uncomfortable those wooden seats are. If someone is going to open up about their problems, it’s always best they have someplace comfortable to sit.
After I lock up the case files I have and put on my flats, I pull out my keys to get ready to walk home. Yet another plus about working here is the proximity of my house.
“Throw your hands up then! I’m not scared of you!”
Fear seizes my gut as I step out into the parking lot and see two of the kids from my program squaring up in front of each other. The last thing we need right now is for there to be a fight and someone gets hurt.
“Hey! What are you two doing?” I yell out before I start jogging in their direction.
Elliot and Benny.
With a groan, I step between the two of them, hoping that the situation isn’t so heated that they’ll fight even with me standing here. I shift my glance between the two of them, waiting for someone to tell me what’s going on.
Elliot, I’m surprised to see here, but Benny… Benny has issues with his anger. It’s something I’ve been trying like hell to help him with.
“So, is someone going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Yeah, nothing,” the both of them reply. I turn my back on Benny and face Elliot.
“I didn’t hear nothing when I came outside. Now, tell me why you two were about to fight.” My voice is firm but calm. I don’t want either of them feeling like they can’t come to me with problems because they’re going to get in trouble.
“Miss, he waited out here for me. He told me earlier that he was going to kick my ass. I’m not scared of him.” Elliot points over my shoulder, and I feel Benny shift closer to me.
“I wasn’t even thinking about you, but you’re right, I did say I was going to kick your ass. You want to fight. Let’s fight,” Benny yells over me.
“Hey! No one is fighting anyone. Violence isn’t the answer.” Using a hand on each of their shoulders, I push them back.
“It may not be the answer, but it sure does feel good,” Benny says with a smirk on his face.
“Weirdo,” Elliot mutters under his breath.
“I don’t care how good it feels. I’m not going to let either one of you fight each other.”
“Fine, this is boring anyway.” Benny grabs his book bag and turns, walking out of the parking lot while Elliot stands with me.
“Miss, I know you have to make sure we stay safe and all that, but sometimes people just need to get beat up before they learn their lesson.”Elliot shrugs as if he’d just dropped a diamond gem of advice on me before he picks up his bag and walks in the opposite direction of Benny.
My mind replays the conversation I had with Luke, mixed up with the words both Benny and Elliot had just said to me. I’ve never been the type of person to condone violence, but just talking wasn’t getting through to these kids. I need to find a better way to help them. They need an outlet for all this adolescent aggression they’ve got inside them.
Fighting seems to be a sure-fire way to get most of their attention.
Pulling my purse to my front, I dig inside it and pull out my phone. Christina Bright was one of the first people I met when I moved to Ashill Woods, and she’s always been helpful. Now, my hope is she’d be willing to get her father to open up his boxing gym to these troubled youths. I’d much rather them beat on a punching bag than each other.
CHAPTER THREE
REESE
