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It was February and not exactly the normal time any kid enters into a new school. It was weird, but hey. His parents must've just gotten a weirdly awesome job and just shot on down here from Illinois (so I heard). I teach eighth grade English here in Marietta, Georgia. It's the largest suburb-city of Atlanta and I work at Arden Junior High. I honestly don't have a lot of complaints. Helicopter parents are terrible and of course eighth graders are little devils.
Eighth grade is the last year before kids become freshmen in high school. They usually rule the lower grades as if they're the masters-and-commanders of the entire school. They're not, really. And I often love to tongue-tie the little monsters when they mouth off to me but it's usually all in good fun. I have a thing about building rapports with my students - especially the more rambunctious ones. If I can get them to reel it in when I really need them to, the rest of the class will follow. Something I learned after a few years doing this job.
Sam, though, entered my classroom with the most unassuming attitude I'd ever seen. It was striking. Obviously, he was the new kid - and normally I would've just written off his bearing as a result of that. But he wasn't shy. He was just quiet. He stood to his full height and locked in eye contact with me. He was respectful, but not blindly. He didn't smile, but that seemed acceptable to me. He was just calm and collected. I told the class to say hi to him and indicated an empty seat for him to go to.
When I was a kid, I used to get moved around a lot. I knew what it was like being, 'new.' One of the worst things teachers could do was ask you to share something about yourself and choose your own seat when you were done.
Honestly, when you're in a new environment and you're not sure how to manage yourself within it, you rarely want to publically speak or assess people so awkwardly when it comes time to determine where to sit in a classroom. I never made new kids do that.
Anyway, so he sat down. He was honestly the most attentive kid in my entire class that day. It was great. He still hadn't smiled at me though, so at the end of the period, I called him over.
"What's up?" He asked openly, restrapping his backpack along his shoulder as he approached. I smiled and leaned back in my chair.
"Not much. Did you like your first class?"
"Um," Sam looked confused for a second, then gave me what I realized was a pitying smile. "Yeah it was... Great," he said encouragingly.
I started laughing. The kid just gave me a compliment out of pity. I leaned forward and began trying to explain myself.
"No, I meant.. I mean like how do you like it so far here?"
Again, Sam gave me a slightly confused grin and nodded.
"It's... Pretty good, Ms. Gold," he drawled comically. I rolled my eyes and smiled. This kid really wasn't that talkative, but he was doing a damn good job communicating anyway.
"All right," I waved him off, "I was just asking. Didn't know it was gonna get awkward," I quipped. Finally, he smiled. His eyes lit up and he had some aggressive dimples. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"
Sam backed away, smiling.
"Yeah, Ms. Gold."
"All right ciao," I waved again. He waved back and left the classroom. Cute kid. Definitely on the mature end of the scale.
...
A few days later I was reviewing students' records. Sam's had just come in and I was a little irritated to see that he had Epilepsy. I - and all the other teachers - should've gotten that heads-up on his first day. Luckily nothing had happened so far. I figured Sam probably had some low-grade version of the syndrome.
...
A few weeks later, I was in the teacher's lounge when I heard Greg complaining about a kid as he refilled his mug with coffee (even though it was lunch time - Greg was a hopeless caffeine addict). Greg Fiano was one of the science teachers for the eighth graders. He tended to rule with an iron fist and a bitter attitude. I joked with my students but Greg would just straight-up ridicule them. It always warmed my heart when kids would come into my class after Greg's and claim that I was the best teacher in the world. Sure, it came at Greg's expense, but I wasn't too fond of Greg either. Plus it was nice to hear I was the best teacher in the world.
Anyway, sorry. So I'm in the teacher's lounge, reading Jurassic Park. It was around noon - the kids all had their lunch periods. I hear his annoying voice pierce into Crichton's manuscript. I sighed and closed my book, turning in my chair and taking my feet off the coffee table.
"Greg, what're you talking about?"
Greg spun around to me.
"Have you noticed this, Cathy?" I noticed Jane, the Latin teacher Greg had been talking to, give me a look as she subtly backed away so she didn't have to listen to him anymore. I hid my smile.
Damn tenure. No one liked him and he was a pretty shitty teacher.
"Noticed what?" I asked, irritated.
"Sam Winchester?"
"Okay, yeah. He's a cute kid. What?" I challenged.
"You kidding me? He can't focus worth a damn."
I lifted an eyebrow, skeptical.
"I've even caught him babbling to no one and like spastically moving his arm around, which freaks his poor lab partner out. I can't say I'd blame her. Today was the worst - he's like the weirdest-"
As Greg went on, my skepticism turned into pure concern.
"Greg, shit. What did you do?" I asked accusingly, throwing my book down on the chair as I got up to face him. Greg looked at me like I was crazy.
"I didn't do anything. It's just today I asked him a question and he refused to answer me."
"Did he raise his hand?"
"No," he replied with an air of self-righteousness.
No. Of course not. Greg loved to pick on his most unaware students and show them up to the entire class.
"Damn it, Greg, what is wrong with you?"
"What are you talking about, Cathy? He-"
"He has Epilepsy, you idiot," I said as I quickly started gathering my things together.
"So?"
I turned around to him, eyes glaring.
"So, you're describing seizures."
Greg snorted.
"That's not what a seizure looks like."
"Yeah it is, Greg," I insisted, distressed. "Jesus Christ, if a kid has to wear a bracelet for a medical condition, fucking read up on it," I yelled, stuffing the book into my bag. I turned around, looking to see if I'd missed anything. "He must get them more around the time of day he has your class or something. When did this happen?" I murmured seriously.
"Just last period," Greg offered, looking like he was being yelled at for having done nothing wrong.
"How'd it end?"
I saw the wheels turning in Greg's head. I almost heard the click when his thick skull had registered what I'd been saying.
"I... I bypassed him after the class waited for awhile. The bell rang a few minutes later and..."
"And?" I prompted, furious. Greg wiped his face with his hand and sighed.
"I... I saw that he'd fallen asleep on the lab table. I let the other kids filter out and woke him up."
"What'd you say to him?" I asked, already disgusted by Greg's description of what happened. No doubt he was downplaying whatever public humiliation he might've subjected the kid to.
"I gave him a detention. I told him that he needed to focus in my class. I told him that if I caught him falling asleep again, he'd have to go to McCallister."
McCallister is the principle. Nice guy - kind of flaky.
"Uh huh," I replied skeptically. I grabbed my bag and left the lounge in search of the kid. Unbelievable. Un-friggin-believable that our science teacher doesn't know the various symptoms or signals of a seizure. Not to mention, I had this heavy feeling in my heart that Greg had just lied to me about letting the kids leave before he'd disciplined Sam.
This was a royal fuck up. I sincerely hoped that maybe whoever Sam's parents were would get Greg fired for this.
I weaved through the halls to get to the lunchroom. Looking around, I couldn't spot Sam in the cafeteria, so I threw on my windbreaker and opened the double doors to get out onto the black top. Marie, one of the lunch time attendants, was nearby watching some of the kids play basketball. I strode up to her fast and she gave me a wide smile.
"Hey nice day out, right?!" She called out.
"Fantastic," I said dully, "Hey listen have you seen Sam Winchester?"
Marie's smile faded immediately.
"Shit, yeah," she whispered.
"What?" I asked as she moved closer to me so we wouldn't be overheard.
"Just took two kids off him."
"What?" I asked harshly. Marie, her brows furrowed in sympathy, nodded.
"Yeah, I know, right?"
"Where is he now?"
"I think over there somewhere," Marie pointed far off in the distance near the edge of the soccer field.
"Why isn't he at the nurse?"
"I told him to go but he insisted that he didn't have to," Marie said, lifting her hands up and shrugging helplessly.
"Where're the other two kids?"
"McCallister."
"Good." Marie and I exchanged knowing looks that at least that detail had been taken care of. Now to just make sure Sam was okay.
"All right," I sniffed. The weather had a bitingly cold wind whistling through. "Over there?" I asked, pointing in the same direction that Marie had just a moment before. Marie nodded and squinted her eyes, trying to spot him.
"Yeah I can't see him but I think that's where he took off to."
"He got friends?" I asked as I backed away, wondering if maybe my presence wasn't needed. Perhaps he had buddies already that were helping him out.
Marie's face fell and she shook her head.
"Don't think so, Cath," she called back. I nodded, feeling similarly disheartened, and turned around to continue past the black top. In the back of my mind I was thinking about how much I hated it when people called me, 'Cath.'
"Cathy! Hey Cathy!" I stopped short and turned around again, surprised to see Marie hurrying up to me.
"Hey I gotta stay over by the doors but you were asking about friends. You know a, 'Dean,' in the class?"
It took me a blink to respond.
"No. Why? Who's Dean?"
Marie shrugged.
"I don't know."
Marie stopped talking and I gave her an expectant look. Marie shrugged.
"The kid asked for Dean. I don't know. He seemed out of it."
I rolled my eyes. What else could possibly go wro- no. Wait. I stopped myself there because I really didn't want to jinx this kid.
"Thanks," for nothing, I thought, and headed back in the right direction as I saw Marie retreat back to her station by the back doors. I sighed and kept my eyes peeled. I was halfway past the sidelines of the field when I came across a clique of my students hanging out together on the bleachers. I came up to them.
"Hey guys have you seen Sam Winchester?" I asked casually, my voice cutting through the wind.
"Oh hey Ms. Gold!" Tom blurted, his peppy personality always a nice sight to see. Ironically, he always wore black and his poetry was dark as hell.
"Hey Tom. So have you guys seen him?"
"Who?" Cassie, a friend of Tom's, asked as she turned around to look at me.
"Sam Winchester."
"Oh... Um. Yeah," Tom said vaguely, squinting his eyes ponderingly.
"I think I saw him walk by us like fifteen minutes ago."
"On this path?" I asked, indicating the path I was on. Tom nodded.
"Okay, thanks," I said as I moved along. I stopped and turned back.
"Hey, Tom?"
"Yeah?"
"Did he look okay?"
Tom gave it some thought and I swear to god, my heart was turning into an anvil.
"I don't know. He didn't look happy if that's what you mean."
I sighed again. Eighth graders.
"'Kay, thanks, Tom."
Fifteen minutes ago, if Sam had continued down this path, would've led him out of the school grounds. I bit my lip and looked at my watch. Ten minutes left of the period. Shit, I had to find him soon.
I picked up my pace and nearly walked right past him. There was a huge tree along the side of the path and Sam was curled up against the root system that almost hid him entirely from view. I stopped dead, almost stumbling over my one-inch heels (my job is glamorous), and turned back around to step off the path and over to the tree.
"Sam?" I asked hesitantly, even though I knew it was him. He had a light windbreaker on, similar to mine, only his seemed a bit worse for wear. His head was turned down against his chest and his arms were tucked against his body. His knees were pulled up high, concealing my view of his body. He looked young. Like, really young and little. Especially for a thirteen year old.
"Sam?" I asked again, my heart breaking a little as I came closer and saw he was shivering. This was a little bit worse than I had imagined. Most of the time whenever I worry about my eighth graders' feelings, they rebuff me like I'm the weirdo for caring. Sam here didn't look like he could spare an ounce of defensive posturing. Curled up, unresponsive, and shivering, the kid was scaring me.
It was worse, too, because this kid, in the past few weeks of dealing with him, had always been entirely genuine. His humor was dry - always a bit on the sarcastic side - but he always had a glint in his eye when he delivered. As if you were in on the joke with him even if it was at your expense. No other kid I knew had ever had that kind of savvy. No idea where he could've gotten it from.
He was smart as a whip. Quiet but not downtrodden. Confident even, I'd say, but never gloating. So obviously self-sustaining and mature at the age of thirteen that I never imagined I'd find him in such a vulnerable position like this. I crouched down and moved forward, eventually squatting in front of him.
"Sam, honey, you awake?" I prompted with that concerned and caring tone every teacher learns to switch gears into when they're worried. I reached my hand out to touch his knee.
"Sam?" I touched his knee and Sam jumped. Even I jumped in alarm at his reaction, then winced when I saw his head nail the tree behind him.
"Sam, Sam it's Ms. Gold, Sam," I tried to assure him, but he just looked groggy. "Sam are you okay?" I asked, referring to the head-bang against the tree. Sam sighed as he blinked, eyes trying to focus on me.
"Ms. Gold?" He asked, his voice small and scratchy. I got a good look at his face just then and cringed in sympathy. Sam's eyes were red; I could tell he'd been crying. He had dirt on his face and along his hairline - likely a result of the two kids that had bullied him.
"Are you hurt, Sam?" I asked gently, reaching out to him.
"S'Dean coming?" He asked, pulling back from me.
"Hon, I don't know who Dean is," I shook my head helplessly.
"I... I..." Sam looked around and his eyes widened. Okay yeah, something was wrong with this kid. He was obviously disoriented. "I'm... tired," Sam finished.
Not knowing exactly what to do, I watched as his eyes started to close again.
"Okay, Sam. Hey- No!" I called, seeing his eyes close. At my call, he jerked them open again and blinked at me. "Sam, c'mon, it's time to go inside," I said, having had enough. It's a problem that sometimes I get a little angry when I get genuinely worried. I'm not an expert on Epilepsy, but the condition Sam was in did not indicate that he was doing all right. I stood up quickly and offered my hands. Sam looked up at me dazedly.
"Where's Dean?"
"Who's Dean?" I asked quickly, almost like a demand. Sam obviously wasn't responding to my cajoling-caring tone of voice, so I was trying a different tack. Without missing a beat, Sam replied.
"My brother."
"Where's your brother?"
"High school."
I sighed and looked up in the direction of the high school. I looked back down to Sam.
"Can't call Dean, Sam. Where's your mom?"
"Dead," Sam replied instantly again. Kind of emotionless tone too, even though it took me a second for it to sink in. I gulped and gave a weak cough, mentally glossing over that piece of information and saving it for later.
"'Kay what about your Dad?"
"Not here."
"Where's your Dad?" I asked, curious now that I had Sam on the line for this kind of back-and-forth dialogue. Apparently, though, I'd kind of exhausted the kid of his remaining composure. I looked down and realized that his breath was catching. I bent down again.
"Sam, hey Sam. Sorry. Sorry..."
"He's... He's out of town... Business," Sam cried softly. I bit my lip with remorse. Probably shouldn't have pushed him that hard. "Where's Dean?!" Sam half-cried, half-yelled at me. I put my hand on Sam's head gently and pulled out my cell phone, knowing I was going to regret this.
"Here, Sam. Here I'm gonna call him, okay?" I said, hoping Sam would calm down because his cries were making me want to cry. Thirteen year olds rarely cry except in injury. Even then, it's unnerving. "Okay what's his number?"
Sam sniffed and finally untangled himself to reach for my phone. I handed it to him and let him punch in the number.
"Let me talk to him, okay?" I whispered as I reached back for my phone. Sam hiccupped and nodded as I pried the phone from his hand. I brought it up to my ear and heard the ring click into air.
"Hello?"
I heard the period bell go off in the distance and squeezed Sam's shoulder reassuringly.
"Hi is this Dean Winchester?" I asked lightly.
"Yeah, is something wrong?" Dean's voice seemed to boom through my phone. He sounded threatening even though I knew he was only in high school.
"Um, well my name is Cathy Gold-"
"Sam's teacher," Dean stated, and suddenly I heard something in the background of his phone like a chair screeching off the floor and an annoyed voice with a thick southern accent call, "Dean!" in the background. A door slammed and then silence until Dean's voice boomed through again. "Is everything all right? What's going on?"
"I... I think Sam's had a rough day. He's asking for you."
"You guys at the nurse's office?"
"Ah," I looked at Sam, then out at the now empty field and black top, "No. Sam doesn't want to head over there just yet."
"Let me speak to him."
It felt weird letting a teenager order me around like this, but I don't know. I moved the phone from my ear and held it out for Sam.
"Sam, it's Dean," I told Sam, trying to get the kid to snap out of it. Snap out of it he did, kind of, and took the phone.
"Dean?" Sam said into the receiver softly. I watched as Sam's eyes started tearing up again as he nodded along to whatever Dean was saying.
"Yeah... yeah..." Sam whispered into the phone. He turned his head down and gave a small sob. "Yeah. Okay," he finished, sniffing, then hung up the phone.
"Okay? Are we good? We going to the nurse, now?" I asked, hopeful. Sam nodded jerkily, trying to regain some composure.
"I... I need your help," Sam breathed. "I'm really tired."
I nodded.
"Yeah of course, Sam," I said as I stood up again and reached down for him. Sam finally registered my gestures and reached out. We locked hands and I pulled him up.
"I get... Disornted..." Sam slurred a little bit, but I knew what he meant.
"That's okay, I got it," I replied, holding on to Sam under his arms as he stumbled a bit down the path.
"So is Dean coming?" I asked after a few minutes.
"Yeah," Sam breathed, as though it was a struggle to speak. I decided to stop asking him questions.
It was a godsend that also made a lot of practical sense that the nurse's office was so close to the back doors of the lunch and school grounds. Once getting inside, I only had to carry the stumbling boy down one hallway. I angled Sam into the nurse's station. There were two other kids in area, one sporting a bloody nose and the other an ice pack to the shin. I noticed them and they noticed Sam and I, watching with keen eyes.
Jim, the school nurse, took one look at us and jumped up from his chair. Normally a pretty jovial guy in his early thirties, Jim simply swept over to us quietly, gave me a split-second smile, then crouched down to look at Sam.
"Hey buddy," Jim said searchingly, looking up at me again for a microsecond, then back at Sam.
"Hey Jim," Sam whispered.
"Back so soon, huh?" Jim said gently, giving him a kind smile and reaching out to take him from my hands.
"Hah. Yeah," Sam replied wearily as he allowed the transition of support from me to Jim. Jim looked at me expectantly.
"I found him outside in the field..." I trailed off as I watched Jim expertly, carefully lifted Sam's feet onto his booted shoes. It looked old hat even though Sam had only been here a month. I couldn't help but be distracted. Sam seemed so healthy, so confident and strong in my class. It just never occurred to me that so much care was taken for him by medical professionals. Jim's treatment of Sam was so personal and gentle. It struck me that Sam must normally have to trust people like Jim on a regular basis like this. God, I thought. Not that Jim's not awesome. But Epilepsy sucks.
I knew Jim well and I knew he was a great guy but my estimations of him skyrocketed as I saw how delicate he was with Sam.
Jim kept his eyes on me and I got the distinct impression I needed to walk with him as he 'walked' Sam over to one of the couch-bed type things the school had for kids that needed to lie down. A fierce protective streak shot through me as I followed, careful to make sure the two kids in the nurse's office watching us couldn't see Sam as Jim handled him onto the bed... bed-couch thing.
"Cathy?"
"Uh, yeah, sorry," I shook my head free of thoughts, "I think he had a seizure at some point before the lunch period. He went down to lunch and apparently two kids were bullying him on the grounds. They're in the principal's office right now-"
Jim was still listening but I watched as he put his hands up in front of Sam, one with a small flashlight in it. A slight nod from Sam and Jim leaned over Sam. He lifted one of Sam's eyes open with his hand and shone the flashlight, then moved it side to side.
"So then I found him way out beyond the field against a tree."
Jim moved to Sam's other eye, nodding along with my words. When he was done, he sighed and smiled at Sam. "You're lookin' okay. Pupils are workin'," he spoke softly to Sam with an upbeat tone. Sam's hand moved into a vague thumbs up. Jim gave his hand a pat and stood up to lean back and grab a blanket from the foot of the couch. As he did so, he gave me an encouraging nod that he was still listening to me if I had anything else to say. I searched my mind for more to report.
"Um. When I woke him up he jumped and hit his head against the tree trunk. I don't know if that...That matters but..."
Now I was rambling, I realized, and trailed off as I watched Sam groggily blink whilst staring up at the ceiling.
Jim turned to me and smiled kindly.
"He seems fine right now," Jim assured me and I nodded at him, obviously still worried. Jim shut the curtain around Sam's bed area and moved past me over to the desk. He picked up the phone and cradled it against his neck as he dialed. It struck a memory.
"Oh, I almost forgot."
Jim finished dialing and looked up.
"What's up?" He whispered casually.
"I called Sam's brother? Dean?"
Jim looked taken back, blinked a couple times, then covered it with a cheerful smile.
"Oh Great. Okay," he said uncertainly. Suddenly Jim turned to look at the desk as whoever was on the other line picked up.
"Ah-" Jim started, then stopped, listening, "Yeah. You-" Jim was interrupted again, "Okay," Jim stopped again. "Yeah no, no, Dean. He's just resting. He's cool. Okay. See you soon."
Jim hung up and turned to me, giving me a, 'shit, we're-in-trouble,' look. I gave him a confused one back.
"You gave Sam the phone when he was crying?"
I blanked out for a second, bewildered.
"What? No..." I said dumbly, then recalled the phone conversation between Sam and his brother. "Dean made him cry! He wasn't crying before I handed the phone to him!" I whispered vehemently. Jim was holding on to that 'we're-in-trouble' expression, though, which made me feel increasingly worse - like I had just done a really really terrible thing.
"What the hell are you looking at me like that for? Knock it off - Dean's a teenager. How bad can it be?" I challenged Jim. At that, Jim snorted ruefully and rolled his eyes as he sat down behind the desk. For a couple of seconds, he rubbed his chin pensively, thinking about what to say to me, then jerked forward towards me conspiratorially.
"Okay. Seriously?" he whispered, his gaze fixed on me. Ready for the secrets of all secrets, I leaned in playfully to hear what Jim had to say. "Haven't seen this kid's dad at allthroughout the past three weeks, right?"
"Okay...?" I trailed off, waiting for the punch line. Jim pointed sharply back at Sam behind the curtain.
"But that kid, right? That kid might as well not even have one the way Dean is with him."
Okay yeah. It was my turn to look taken back. I blinked a couple of times, registering what Jim was saying and draping a whole load of skepticism over it. The concept was ridiculous.
"The older brother could only be like four years older than him max," I argued, and Jim began shaking his head as if he knew better. "What, he's not four years older?"
"No, he's four years older. But it doesn't make a difference. Seriously," Jim added, his eyes unblinking and fixing me with steadfast sincerity. I canted my head to the side, thinking about it as I held Jim's gaze. Finally, Jim broke it.
"Look if you want to get out of here before you get taken to task, now's your chance," he murmured, shimmying papers on his desk. I guffawed at his tone.
"Yeah right," I replied, thinking Jim was joking, too.
"Fair warning, Cathy," he added, a knowing smile plastered on his face when he glanced back up at me. I rolled my eyes.
"No. Because now I have to see this," I said, smiling, thinking it was absurd that an eighteen year old could ever, 'take me to task.'
Jim gave me that know-it-all smile again and lifted his hands up.
"Okay," he said airily, the implicit message being that he was wiping his hands of the argument then and there. I leaned against the desk and turned away from the office doors to look at the clock. I checked my watch to see if the times corresponded.
Huh. A couple of minutes off.
A few seconds later, to my right I heard Jim give a quick inhale.
"De-" Jim started, getting up.
"Where is he?" I heard a sharp, deep voice demand. It nearly made me jump - the nurse's office was usually a pretty quiet place. I turned around to the sight of a rugged man striding right at me. Shocked, I started backing away. I noticed the two kids in the office were just staring dumbly as he passed by them.
"Jim?" Dean's piercing green eyes only barely took me into consideration as he landed his intensity square in Jim's direction. I looked down to Jim, who seemed to take it in stride. He pointed at the curtained area where Sam was resting and Dean altered his quick steps and disappeared from view behind the curtain immediately. I stood transfixed, looking at the part of the curtain Dean had nearly ripped off in his haste to get to Sam. I slowly turned around to look at Jim, who was smiling at me: I told you so.
"Seriously, that's him!?" I whispered, sounding completely (and embarrassingly) like one of my eighth grade gossip queens. Jim licked his lips and nodded.
"Oh that's him all right."
"He doesn't look eighteen. Holy shit, Jim, he's huge!"
Jim shrugged. It was kind of funny, because I feel like in that moment I'd kind of knocked him off guard. Jim was kind of short.
Just as quickly as he'd vanished, Dean appeared before us again, staring both of us down like we'd done something wrong. Shit, I thought. I'm never one to eat their words, but Jim had been right. Dean looked ready to murder. He took a half-glance around the room and gave a double-take at the two kids sitting on chairs in the front office area. He pointed at them and looked at Jim.
"Can we get them out of here?" He demanded more than asked. Jim looked over at the kids. "Now?" Dean added fiercely. Jim nodded quickly, relenting to Dean, and stood up.
"Hey guys can you pack it in and get back to your classes? You'll be fine just keep your knee iced, Steve, and Tasha-" Jim reached over and grabbed a tissue box to throw to her. She caught it easily. "Tasha, if it starts up again just keep your head down and come back, okay?" Tasha nodded, dabbing her nose, and followed Steve out of the nurse's station. Once gone, Jim and I looked back up at Dean.
"What the fuck is going on? What happened?" Dean managed to yell his whisper. Both Jim and I startled and in the back of my mind I realized that Dean had wanted the other kids out just so he could swear at us. Well, I figured, at least he had principles.
Jim gave Dean a calm, collected look of innocence, then turned to look up at me from his seat in the chair. Thanks Jim, I thought, throw me under the bus. Real nice.
Dean followed Jim gaze to me.
"Who're you?" He demanded. I pursed my lips, holding back a smart ass retort. To be fair, his little brother just probably had a seizure (or more than one) and was crying over the phone to him not fifteen, twenty minutes ago. Still, it was weird because it's usually parents that get this worked up. But Jim had warned me.
"Dean, hi. I'm Cathy-" I said, raising my hand for a shake.
"Cathy Gold," Dean interrupted, fire still blazing in his eyes. He reluctantly took my hand. It occurred to me that I was shaking the hand - a formal greeting - with an eighteen year old. Somehow it didn't seem inappropriate though.
"Yes. I was the one that found Sam out on the grounds a few minutes ago."
"Okay. What happened?"
"Well. We're not entirely sure..."
"Guess," Dean challenged, his voice like steel grating. His expression was probably reflecting the same disgust I had on my face while I'd been talking to Greg.
"Ah," I sighed, not knowing where to start. "I think it started the period before lunch. Sam had a seizure of some sort-"
"What kind?"
"I don't know. He was in science-"
"Oh shit," Dean swore so vehemently, I was surprised. "What'd Fiano do?"
Inwardly, I was a little relieved. In that second, I saw Dean's anger redirect from me to Fiano. Rightfully so too, I gotta say. I licked my lips and continued.
"I don't know. Sam didn't answer a question when Fiano called on him when he wasn't raising his hand..."
Dean sighed and pushed his hand against his mouth, thinking. He nodded.
"Okay. Sam would never do that. So that's a seizure. What happened?"
"Ah..." I stopped, realizing something, and then looked up at Dean apologetically. "I can't... Go into it, Dean," I finished.
It was policy. I wasn't there for anything prior to finding Sam out on the grounds. I couldn't claim witness to any of the injustices that might've happened to Sam except my that of my own firsthand knowledge.
Dean kept his sharp gaze fixed on me. Swear to god I felt like I was shrinking under his eye.
"I'm... I'm sorry," I stuttered. Holy shit, I thought. Not even real parents have gotten me feeling like this before.
Dean sighed and looked away. I realized I'd been holding my breath.
"Jim?" Dean murmured as he moved to lean against the desk looking altogether burdened.
"Yeah, Dean. He's good to go if you want to take him," Jim replied understandingly. I looked at Jim, confused.
"What? Good to go?" I asked. Jim nodded and gestured to Dean.
"Yeah. Dean's got custody of Sam."
"What?" I mouthed to Jim. Jim didn't say anything, just nodded back and ticked his head to Dean. He's the real deal.
I looked back up to Dean, who seemed to have caught the silent conversation I'd been having with Jim. He looked at me.
"You got anything to say to me?" He challenged (even though it sounded more like a threat).
"No... No I just..." I stumbled over my words. "You're in high school," I blurted.
Jim laughed.
"Dean's... Not in high school, Cathy."
"-What makes you think I'm in high school?" Dean asked, confused.
"I... Sam told me."
Dean cringed and looked at Jim.
"Shit he was really out of it, huh?" Jim asked me.
"A-Apparently," I stuttered, annoyed by how misinformed I was about everything going on here. Dean sighed and smacked his hands on the desk.
"Okay. I'm gonna take him home. I'll talk to Sam about Fiano after he takes a nap or something," Dean whispered lowly as he stretched and rubbed his neck. "Cathy, thanks for your help," he shook my hand again and I realized I'd been dismissed.
"Sh..sure," I replied weakly as I watched Dean and Jim walk back into Sam's curtained room. I stood there, a little shell-shocked. I reframed Sam's home situation as quickly as I could: their mother was dead, their father was out on business but... but that didn't matter, as Dean, Sam's older brother by only like four years, had custody of the boy. An eighteen year old. Had legal guardianship. Of a thirteen year old. Seriously? How does that even work?!
I heard soft murmurs from behind the curtain and, unable to control my curiosity, I stepped closer and opened it just a little to see inside.
Dean was leaning against the couch Sam was lying down on, hovering over Sam and whispering something to him. Jim was leaning against the wall, watching and waiting. Sam's eyes were open, focused on Dean and absently playing with the pendant on Dean's necklace as it dangled over his chest. Dean touched Sam's face - under his eyes - and brushed back Sam's bangs. Sam nodded up at Dean and mumbled something that sounded like a raspy, "yeah."
I looked back up for a second and saw Jim. Still leaning against the wall, his arms folded comfortably, he'd spotted me and shot me a small smile. His eyes shifted again and continued to watch and wait if he was needed.
Dean gained leverage on the couch and lifted Sam all the way up. He kept Sam there for a second.
"Good?" Dean asked, tilting his head to see Sam's downturned face. Sam sniffed and nodded.
"Okay awesome," Dean replied lightheartedly and I gave my own small smile at the teenage colloquialism that... still seemed to fit.
Somehow Dean was pulling off the roles of both teen and parent equally well within the same exact moment here. I'd never seen anything like it before. Frankly, I doubt I ever will again.
Dean angled his way behind Sam and Sam dropped his legs down to the floor so they were sitting side-by-side, Dean hugging Sam close to him.
"Jim?" Dean murmured, and I saw Jim slip into action and block my view.
"Okay buddy. One-two-three up," Jim whispered smoothly, and at the word, 'up,' I saw Dean rise up slowly and move to the side behind Sam. "Good?" Jim asked. I didn't hear Sam say anything, but Jim backed away and I could see Dean holding Sam under the arms just like Jim had done earlier.
Only, unlike Jim, Dean was holding Sam with a casual intimacy that only family could really have. I thought Jim seemed gentle about keeping Sam steady on his feet as he walked him to the bed earlier, but I could see now that it was just a false imitation of how relaxed and careful (maybe even loving, I guess you could say) Dean was with the boy. Sam, too, seemed to lean into his brother's presence.
Sam was standing fine, but I think it was obvious that Dean held him so close because Sam simply needed to feel safe and secure. It made sense. I didn't know all the details, but it seemed like Sam had been through a lot this morning.
"Okay I think we're ready to get going, then, yeah?" Dean asked Sam, his arm wrapping around Sam's chest for a second as Sam nodded.
"Yeah."
Holding Sam against him, Dean gave a wan smile to Jim and shook his hand.
"See ya, Jim, thanks," Dean said politely.
"Of course, Dean," Jim replied in kind, following behind Sam and Dean as they walked out of the curtain area and closer to the front office.
I, like an idiot, forgot that I was directly in their line of sight. I backed up a couple of steps before they got out and suddenly Dean stopped and turned around, following Sam with his eyes as Sam left his space and walked up to me. I looked at Dean for permission. Why was I looking at Dean for permission?! I thought. But he nodded, so I bent down and looked up at Sam.
"Hey Sam, you okay?"
"Yeah. Thank you, Ms. Gold."
"Yeah, any time, sweet heart."
And then Sam gave me one of his rare, brilliant smiles, dimples and all. I kind of melted at that point and gave him my most genuine smile back. I don't know - the kid had a gift with making people feel good. I glanced over to Dean and realized he was rolling his eyes with a wry smile on his face. After a few seconds, he spoke up.
"Sammy stop charming your English teacher," Dean quipped, reaching out for him. I laughed and appreciated the somewhat possessive undertone in his gesture to get Sam back under his wing. I saw Sam huff a breath of laughter from Dean's joke, roll his eyes with a smile, and turn away to get back. Dean folded his arm around Sam's shoulders and they walked slowly, at Sam's pace, out of the office.
I watched through the windows in the nurse's station as Dean opened the school door for Sam so they could get out onto the black top of the grounds. I couldn't see their car; Dean must've parked around the other side of the building. It occurred to me just then that Dean had known Fiano and I as Sam's science and English teachers without having been told.Impressive, I thought, unconsciously tipping my head towards Dean.
"Watch this..." Jim interrupted my thoughts, coming up next to me as I watched the two of them stop on the black top. I turned and saw Jim smiling as he looked outside with me.
"What? They're gonna be okay, right?" I murmured.
"Yeah, just watch," Jim grinned, not bothering to look at me. I turned back to the window and Dean had crouched down to talk to Sam. I saw him swivel around and stand up a little higher so Sam could lean over his back. Dean moved back down a little and grabbed Sam's legs, and hitched him all the way up.
I snorted with laughter.
"Oh my god," I said, silently laughing. I turned to Jim, who was laughing with me. "A piggyback ride?" I said with delight. Jim was chuckling, too. "That is just adorable."
"I know," Jim said, smiling ear to ear. We watched as Dean effortlessly walked across the blacktop with his little brother's head turned on its side against his shoulder, legs dangling weightlessly in the air against his sides. They disappeared as Dean turned the corner and I breathed a sigh of content. Dean was the real deal, all right. So was Sam.
Turning to Jim, I pointed in their general direction with wide eyes. Jim laughed softly and nodded, casually walking back to the desk to sit down. I followed him and he looked back up at me. My expression hadn't changed. A certain level of understanding crossed between us. Jim leaned back in his chair and sighed wistfully.
"I know," he said again.