Chapter Nine: All The Wrong Reasons
Chapter Nine: All The Wrong Reasons
‘I can’t stand the pain, and I can’t make it go away,
I can’t explain what happened, and I can’t erase the things that I’ve done…’
Untitled, Simple Plan
WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Okay, we're starting to get to the 'meat' of the story now. This chapter, and please head this warning, has a lot of implications between the lines. There's also implied Slash sex at the end, but it's only implied. Please use your own discretion here!
NOTES: The Character 'Jace' is based on a character created on the RPG boards by Matt *hugs Matt*. And of course, Mike is inspired by Mick. Sorry, no Saydie this time, she's in the hospital.
and PLEASE leave a comment if you read, I really need to know what people think so far...I admit it, I'm starved for attention *sniff*
Chaim slouched back in his chair and stared jealously out the window. The other students had a free
hour after lunch and were outside in the sunshine. His current view was of the Cliffhangers
challenging the Drifters to a game of touch football. They were out there, but he was stuck inside
one of the classrooms with Rabbi Kirsh. The desk in front of him was full of books, most of which
were written in Hebrew, and all of which he found ridiculously boring. Again he was stuck studying
while his peers had fun. Again he was left out because he was different. ‘Just like at home,’ he
thought bitterly, ‘It’s like I never left…’
He’d been released from the Infirmary the day before and, while still sore and sporting a generally
pessimistic attitude, was fine. He’d grilled Peter for information about Saydie, how long she’d be
gone, if there was any word on her condition, when he could see her again, but each question was
answered with the same non-committal response: ‘I’m sorry, Chaim, I just don’t know.’ He missed
her, but couldn’t reconcile the feeling with himself - after all, he barely knew her. And yet, in that
short time they were together, he’d felt something, an odd connection with her, like they were meant
to meet...
Across the table, Rabbi Kirsh sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that hour. He hadn’t
bothered lecturing Chaim about the fight, seeing it as a moot point at the moment. He did mention a
need to work on controlling his anger, however, but left it alone for the time being. He understood
that the boy was still hurting; it would be a while before he would be very receptive to anything, let
alone a lecture about changing ingrained character traits. He had decided, however, that while he
was still closed off to such talk, it would be a good time to focus him on his religious studies. He
was responding well to the Methadone treatment, and professed to be feeling better (although Rabbi
Kirsh had his doubts on that one), and so it was that they found themselves on that sunny afternoon,
inside attempting to learn Torah.
Well, Rabbi Kirsh was attempting to teach, and Chaim was attempting to ignore.
“Chaim?” he asked sharply, calling the boy’s attention away from the game outside. The
Cliffhangers had just scored. “Are you listening to me?” Chaim looked over at him, an expression of
genuine apathy on his face. “Did you hear what I was saying?” He couldn’t think of a good excuse,
so he shrugged.
“No,” he said simply. It was pointless to try and deny it; he had no idea what they were even
‘studying’. “But I’m sure it was yet another anecdote about our perfect forefathers that I have yet to
live up to.” Rabbi Kirsh frowned, more out of understanding than annoyance.
“Actually,” he said, reaching over to flip the boy’s book to the correct page before sitting back, “we
were studying the Akeidah.” He caught the boy’s eyes for a brief moment before Chaim turned back
to the window. Rabbi Kirsh sighed and turned the page in his own book. “Is it really so difficult for
you to study Torah again?” he asked in a tired voice. Chaim sighed with frustration.
“I’ve learnt the Akeidah,” he said irritably, “I read it in shul for my Bar Mitzvah, my middle name is
Yitzach, I think I know the story....”
“What is the story then?” Rabbi Kirsh asked. Anyone who said they ‘knew’ something about Torah
usually didn’t know much at all. It had also been his experience that those who claim to know very
little were the ones really learned in Torah. Chaim sighed again, putting on a show of being bothered
beyond capacity. He was still staring out the window, but turned to look at the Rabbi again.
“G-d tells Avraham to take his ‘beloved’ son up a mountain and offer him as a sacrifice,” he said in
a bored tone. “You know, the one that he supposedly ‘loves’. And Avraham doesn’t even hesitate.”
Rabbi Kirsh nodded.
“Yes that’s true. If G-d asks something of you you should do it immediately.” Chaim screwed up his
face in a mixture of disbelief and disgust.
“He wanted Avraham to sacrifice Yitzach to him! To kill his son! It’s sick…”
“But he didn’t,” Rabbi Kirsh replied softly, happy that now he had Chaim’s attention. At least anger
was better than indifference. “That is why the story is called ‘the binding of Isaac’, not ‘the sacrifice
of Isaac’. He didn’t kill him; in the end, Hashem accepted the intent as an offering.” Chaim rolled
his eyes and stared out the window again.
“Sounds to me like He gets his kicks by jerking us all around,” he muttered. “Why would he make
him do that? Why would he ask Avraham to kill his own son, and why would Avraham go along
with it? Are we no better than the pagans that sacrificed their children to wood statues?” Rather than
getting angry, Rabbi Kirsh smiled. Chaim was questioning the text, and that was exactly the reaction
he’d been hoping for. Sometimes, the only way to learn is to ask the questions yourself.
“Hashem never intended for Avraham to kill Yitzach,” he responded, “after all, didn’t he tell him he
would make from him ‘a great nation’?” Chaim didn’t turn around, but he did listen. “It was a test,
like many of the other tests Avraham had to pass to become our Patriarch.”
“A test to see if he could murder?” Chaim growled. Rabbi Kirsh laughed at this.
“No, of course not! It was to see how far Avraham would go to do G-d’s will. To see how committed
he really was. How much you are willing to give up for something or someone is a measure of how
much that thing or person is valued.
“Look at things we do today: If you want to go to University after High School, you first have to go
through many tests for that. You must submit an application, attend any required testing or hand in
any required materials, then you must commit yourself to the decision by paying tuition. This also is
a test to see how serious you are about your choice.” Chaim snorted.
“I doubt they ask you to sacrifice your firstborn,” he commented darkly.
“I know a few people who would disagree with you there,” Rabbi Kirsh laughed softly. He shook his
head with a slight smile at the boy’s resistance; he’d expected no less, and was happy that they were
making some progress. He was about to continue the lesson when there was a knock at the door. At
his response, Peter walked in, looking at Chaim, and then at the Rabbi.
“Rabbi Kirsh, I wonder if I could take him now,” he asked. Chaim frowned and looked over at the
older man, sensing that this was something pre-arranged.
“Yes, of course,” Rabbi Kirsh responded. “We can continue this later.” Chaim’s frown deepened.
What was going on? Peter nodded and looked over at Chaim.
“If you’ll come with me, Chaim,” he said, motioning to the door. Chaim looked nervously between
the two men before slowly rising from his seat and hesitantly following Peter out the door.
Peter led him outside and over to the Main Lodge, through corridors and then finally down the hall
to his office. Chaim watched the counselor walking in front of him, wondering if he was finally
going to punish him for the two fights he’d managed to get into in one day. He’d also been caught
breaking other rules, but he figured fighting was a bit more serious than one little kiss.
He hoped. Otherwise he’d be on Shuns for the rest of his life.
He knew he should be nervous about what was going on, but he was just numb. Everything was
happening too fast; his brain was finding it difficult to keep up with it all.
He snapped out of his brooding when Peter opened the door to his office, ushering him inside and
gesturing for him to sit on the couch. Mike was already sitting there waiting for them, and Chaim
hesitated. For his part, Mike actually seemed non-threatening, so he sat as far away from the other
boy as he could on the couch, watching Peter drag his chair over from behind his desk and sit facing
them.
“So,” he began, looking the two in the eye before continuing. “Would either of you care to offer me
an explanation about what happened the other day?” he asked, looking from one to the other. Both
boys avoided looking at him, refusing to answer. After a few minutes Peter nodded to himself, as if
expecting the silence. “Okay,” he said, standing and walking behind his desk. “In that case, you can
both pack your bags.” He started shuffling papers on his desk in an unconcerned manner as the two
boys on the couch looked at each other in shock.
“You…you can’t…” Chaim protested. He’d expected Shuns or some sort of grueling or demeaning
chores, but was he really going to expel them for fighting? Peter looked up at him, trying very hard
to keep his face stern.
“Fighting of any kind is not tolerated at Horizon,” he stated, holding Chaim’s eyes firmly before
going back to his organizing. He was relieved that neither boy was really watching what he was
doing, otherwise they might wonder why he was shuffling a pile of junk mail over and over again in
an effort to look busy.
“But…Mr. Scarbrow,” Mike very nearly begged, “I can’t go home now…” Peter’s cold expression
almost faltered, but he managed to keep it in place. Yes, he knew neither of them could afford to be
sent home now, not at this stage of their ‘recovery’, but the threat worked just as well.
“Who said you were going home, O’Donnell?” Now the boys were thoroughly confused. What could
be worse than expulsion? Peter allowed his expression to soften slightly. “You’re not expelled,” he
explained. “You two are going away for a little bit though.” After another tense silence, he sat
behind his desk and folded his hands over the ‘important papers’ he’d been sifting through. “I’m
sending the two of you on a hike.” He watched the boys turn to look at each other again, glad that at
least they were united in their confusion.
“Usually I would send each of you with your group, but as the two of you are in different groups,
and the Stargazers are already scheduled for a hike today, you’ll be going with them.”
“Sir,” Chaim spoke up. He was a little afraid to mention it, but it had been bothering him for two
days. “What…what about me and Auggie?” he asked, wincing slightly in anticipation. Peter nodded
slightly and sighed.
“I’ve dealt with Auggie,” he said, “you two will have a supervised talk when you get back.” Chaim
didn’t understand what that meant, but if he wasn’t going to be punished for both fights, it was fine
with him. “As I was saying, the Stargazer counselors have been informed of the situation, and I’ve
instructed them that all of your meals, work and other activities should be done together. That means
that the two of you,” he smiled at them from across the room, “will be inseparable for two whole
weeks.”
A look of genuine horror graced both boys’ faces.
“But…” Chaim wracked his brain for an excuse why he couldn’t go. “I can’t…what about
Shabbos?” He felt a thin glimmer of hope at the thought. Surly Rabbi Kirsh wouldn’t allow him to
be making fires and chopping wood on Shabbos?
“I’ve already discussed it with your Rabbi, Chaim,” Peter answered smugly, as if expecting the
protest. “He said you could go if certain conditions are met - which they will be.”
“But…but…” he was getting desperate. Any excuse would do. “My medication…I’m still on
medication!” Peter couldn’t help but chuckle. Beside him, Mike shot him a curious look.
“That’s been taken care of also,” he laughed. “There’s really no point in arguing,” he sighed,
“you’re both going. Now go pack.” With a long suffering sigh, both boys picked themselves up off
the couch. With a glare at each other, they both exited the office, obediently yet reluctantly heading
off to their own cabins.
By the time the sun set that evening, he and Mike had been hiking together for five hours already.
The Stargazers were an older group than him, mostly 18 year olds ready to graduate. As expected,
they didn’t socialize much with the two younger boys, and so Chaim and Mike had only each other
to talk to. At the moment, they were doing a pretty good job of ignoring each other.
The group was hiking in the foothills bordering the school grounds, towards one of the many nearby
mountains. When Chaim asked one of the Stargazer counselors why they were going, he’d gotten a
very cheerful ‘because it’s there’ response. When a halt had finally been called for the night, Chaim
collapsed onto the ground with a grateful sigh, not used to that kind of prolonged activity. Sure he
was thin and appeared healthy, but it was mostly from drug use; he was actually in pretty poor
shape.
Mike sat nearby, keeping his distance. The entire walk the two had been silent, but now Mike was
eyeing Chaim as if he wanted to talk. Chaim had no interest in it at the moment, but glanced up at
him anyway. “What?” he asked tiredly.
“We should set up the tent,” Mike suggested, looking over at all the other Stargazers busily setting
up the camp. The other students had been instructed not to help the two boys, as they had to work
together to accomplish things. Chaim shrugged, but didn’t get up. “Look,” Mike sighed in
exasperation. “I know we don’t like each other right now, but if we don’t get a tent set up we’ll be
freezing our butts off all night…”
“Alright!” Chaim sighed loudly and got up, reluctantly helping Mike with the tent. Mike new more
about camping than he did, and so he was forced to take direction from the other boy. It occurred to
him that this was exactly what Peter was going for when he’d sent them out there, and it just made
the task that much more unbearable. They were nearly finished setting up when Mike stopped and
looked up at Chaim.
“I’m sorry,” he said, as if he’d been rehearsing those two words for the past hour. Chaim frowned
slightly at him.
“For what?” he asked, “It was my fault.” Mike shook his head.
“No, it was mine,” he said. “I…” he stood, surveying their meager tent with his arms folded. “I have
difficulty reading other people…I have a condition that makes me…misunderstand certain
situations. It gets me into a lot of trouble.”
“I’ll bet,” Chaim muttered, but his anger had cooled off. Were they so different? Chaim couldn’t
control his own emotions, and Mike had difficulty interpreting others’. It was like they were meant
to meet. He looked up at the other guy and sighed, relaxing slightly.
“Look, it’s my fault anyway,” he said, trying to take some of the guilt off the other guy. “I could
have let you go, but I didn’t. I was angry and…scared. I’m sorry.” This wasn’t anything new for him
- he was constantly apologizing for something, and he’d gotten very good at it. The difference here
was that this time he really meant it.
“I just can’t watch someone else getting hurt, if you understand me,” Mike continued, nodding at
Chaim’s apology. “Especially someone I care about.” Chaim felt a slight jolt at the words.
“You and Saydie aren’t…”
“No,” Mike said with a small laugh, filling the other guy with relief. “Like I said, she’s like a sister
to me. I apologize for misunderstanding what happened, but I have to make something clear.” He
walked forward, so that they could talk quietly without being overheard. “If I ever hear of you
hurting her, really hurting her, you’d better watch your back.” Chaim took a careful breath and
nodded. He had no intention of hurting her, but he was still a little fearful of Mike.
“Okay,” he said, finishing his side of the tent. He looked for some way to plausibly go off on his
own and spied the water bucket. “I’m going to go get some water from the stream,” he said, trying
hard to keep his voice even. Mike nodded absently, as if he hadn’t threatened the other guy just
seconds before.
“Sure.”
Chaim stumbled through the trees towards the stream, allowing his emotions to take over him the
farther away from camp he went. When he finally made it to the stream, he was crying, and he
collapsed onto the ground and sobbed into his hands. No matter what Mike said, he still felt that it
was all his fault. Saydie had wanted to die because of him, because he’d kissed her. She must hate
him. He knew he hated himself. Even though he no longer felt the cravings like he used to, he
wished for something, anything to take his pain away. Heroin was good for that…it made you forget
everything except the rush it gave you. He just needed some…release.
“Woah, who died?” Chaim’s head shot up to look at one of the Stargazers who stood over him,
water bucket in hand. Obviously he wasn’t as alone as he’d thought. The guy didn’t look the least bit
interested in an answer, and Chaim watched him collect his water from the lake, wiping angrily at
his eyes with one sleeve. The other guy was tall, with short blonde hair and a lean yet muscular
build. When he looked back at him, Chaim realized he hadn’t answered his question.
“No one…” he said quietly, “nothing…it’s nothing.”
“Well it can’t be nothing if you’re in tears about it,” the other boy said. He set his water down and
crossed his arms, looking piercingly down at Chaim. “Look kid, I don’t mean to be rude, but
shouldn’t you be with Marc or Jenn right now?” They were the Stargazer counselors, but Chaim
didn’t want to talk to them. He suddenly felt defensive at the other boy’s tone, and his eyes flashed.
“Look, I didn’t ask you to talk to me,” he shot back. The other guy frowned and picked up his water,
making to leave.
“Geez, it was only a suggestion,” he said as he walked past, heading back to the forest. Chaim didn’t
know why, but he suddenly didn’t want this guy to leave. Maybe he did want to talk…but to
someone who had no idea what was going on with him.
“My name’s not ‘kid,’” Chaim said after him, “It’s Chaim.” The other boy stopped and turned,
eyeing him with a curious expression before heading back towards him.
“Jace,” he said, setting down his water again. He seemed to be as curious about Chaim as he was
about him. “So,” he said, sitting down across from him on another rock, “you really don’t recognize
me then?” Chaim frowned at him.
“Should I?” he asked, puzzled. Jace smiled at him, and Chaim started to clue in. Hadn’t he seen that
smile on a billboard?
“I’m Jace Stanford,” he said, as if that was enough. At Chaim’s blank expression, he chuckled softly
to himself. “What, you don’t watch movies or read tabloids?” Chaim shook his head slightly.
“No,” he said, almost an apology, “my parents don’t have a TV and, well I always found it boring
anyway when I’d watch it with friends.” Jace nodded slowly, as if not really understanding but still
trying to be polite.
“Well, if you did watch it you’d probably recognize me,” he said. “My family’s pretty high profile in
the Media and, well,” he grinned a little, “part of why I’m here was plastered all over the tabloids
not long ago.” Chaim raised an eyebrow, interested.
“What’d you do?” he asked, more than a little curious, and suddenly regretting not keeping up with
the Hollywood gossip. Jace seemed almost proud to relay his misdeeds, and Chaim got the feeling
that this too was rehearsed.
“I’m one of those kids who grew up with money as a parent,” he said with a smile, but Chaim could
tell that it was something he didn’t smile often about. “I’m heir to a computer company and a hotel
chain, I’ve been in three movies, well four if you count that sex tape…” Chaim’s eyebrows rose
even higher. How could he be so nonchalant about something like that?
“Sex tape?” he asked, at once shocked and morbidly curious. Jace laughed.
“You really don’t get out much, do you?” he joked. “Yeah, and with a seemingly straight actor, if
you can believe it. My publicist actually told me that it’s so popular it might be going to DVD. At
least the publicity’s good.”
“You liked the publicity? Isn’t that a little…bent?” Jace offered another of his movie star smiles.
“Not when your net worth has grown 10% because of it,” he responded smugly. Chaim blinked,
looking away for a minute. Then a thought occurred to him.
“Does that mean that…well, you’re…” he nodded suggestively, hoping he wouldn’t have to spell it
out.
“Let’s just say I get the best of both worlds,” Jace replied, very obviously looking Chaim over.
Chaim felt himself blush, and he looked down at his feet.
“Ever get you into trouble?” he asked quietly, picking at a spot of mud on his jeans. He’d had his
share of ‘trouble’ because of his choices, but it was nice to know that others go through the same
things. He was still wrestling with himself over it; part of him hated what he did, but the other sicker
part of him enjoyed it purely because it was wrong. And right now on this hike there were no parents
or Rabbi with him to keep him in line. He looked over at Jace again, thinking this might be a
pleasant diversion...
“Not really,” Jace answered, completely oblivious to Chaim’s brooding. “I’ve had flings, and mostly
they kissed and told to the press. The media eats that stuff up, you know.” Chaim risked another
good look at the guy, trying and failing to hide his smile. “So how long have you known you
were…like me,” Jace asked coyly. Chaim bit his lip and grinned. It was on the tip of his tongue to
tell Jace that he wasn’t like him, but he knew full well what he’d meant.
“Long enough for my parents to catch me,” he said carefully. He didn’t want to reveal too much to
this guy he didn’t know anything about, other than he likes to have himself filmed while having sex.
“Ouch,” he answered. “My parents couldn’t care less what I get up to. They usually just gave me
more money and expected me to occupy myself with it. It was only when my exploits became so
embarrassingly public that they started to care.” Chaim nodded at the story.
“As soon as they heard I was sick, my parents packed me up and sent me here, like they don’t want
to bother with me anymore.” He knew it wasn’t completely true, but he saw it that way. If they’d
really cared they would have noticed something before things had gotten as bad as they had.
“At least you were raised by your parents,” Jace countered, sighing a little. “I was raised by a nanny
until I was twelve, and then when they fired her money became a permanent nanny. I barely see my
real parents. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t even know I was in rehab.”
“Well that…sucks…” Chaim couldn’t think of much else to say to that. He would have preferred it
if his parents had stayed out of his business. They were curiously blind to his drug use, but if he
wanted to take art rather than math or science in school, they were all over it. Never mind that he
was a better painter than he was a mathematician. They didn’t know him at all.
“Well, I’d better get back,” Jace said, getting to his feet. Chaim looked up at him, recognizing this as
his last chance. He knew what he wanted now...
“Jace,” he stopped the other guy from leaving, “are you seeing anyone?” He thought guiltily of
Saydie, but as far as he knew she hated his guts right now. And they weren’t really together anyway.
Jace turned and grinned at him. Walking forward, he pulled Chaim to him and kissed him.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he whispered in his ear.
Chaim picked his way back to the camp. It was nearly dark and everyone was preparing dinner. He
spotted Jace with a group of Stargazers, but when he caught his eye, the other guy didn’t
acknowledge him at all. Mike was giving him a curious look when he saw him coming, taking the
water from him.
“Where were you?” he asked. He couldn’t tell if he was more concerned or annoyed. Chaim just
shook his head at him and went into their tent, stretching out on his sleeping bag. He was exhausted
and hurt and embarrassed. He just wanted to sleep and forget what he’d done…forget he even
existed. Mike’s head poked into the tent for a second, a look of concern on his face. “You okay?”
Chaim forced a smile and nodded.
“Just wiped out from all that hiking,” he lied. He didn’t lie very often and he was terrible at it, but
Mike seemed to have bought it. He zipped up the tent again and let him be. He curled up on his side,
tears sliding silently down his face. At least this time he’d asked for it.
‘I can’t stand the pain, and I can’t make it go away,
I can’t explain what happened, and I can’t erase the things that I’ve done…’
Untitled, Simple Plan
WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Okay, we're starting to get to the 'meat' of the story now. This chapter, and please head this warning, has a lot of implications between the lines. There's also implied Slash sex at the end, but it's only implied. Please use your own discretion here!
NOTES: The Character 'Jace' is based on a character created on the RPG boards by Matt *hugs Matt*. And of course, Mike is inspired by Mick. Sorry, no Saydie this time, she's in the hospital.
and PLEASE leave a comment if you read, I really need to know what people think so far...I admit it, I'm starved for attention *sniff*
Chaim slouched back in his chair and stared jealously out the window. The other students had a free
hour after lunch and were outside in the sunshine. His current view was of the Cliffhangers
challenging the Drifters to a game of touch football. They were out there, but he was stuck inside
one of the classrooms with Rabbi Kirsh. The desk in front of him was full of books, most of which
were written in Hebrew, and all of which he found ridiculously boring. Again he was stuck studying
while his peers had fun. Again he was left out because he was different. ‘Just like at home,’ he
thought bitterly, ‘It’s like I never left…’
He’d been released from the Infirmary the day before and, while still sore and sporting a generally
pessimistic attitude, was fine. He’d grilled Peter for information about Saydie, how long she’d be
gone, if there was any word on her condition, when he could see her again, but each question was
answered with the same non-committal response: ‘I’m sorry, Chaim, I just don’t know.’ He missed
her, but couldn’t reconcile the feeling with himself - after all, he barely knew her. And yet, in that
short time they were together, he’d felt something, an odd connection with her, like they were meant
to meet...
Across the table, Rabbi Kirsh sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that hour. He hadn’t
bothered lecturing Chaim about the fight, seeing it as a moot point at the moment. He did mention a
need to work on controlling his anger, however, but left it alone for the time being. He understood
that the boy was still hurting; it would be a while before he would be very receptive to anything, let
alone a lecture about changing ingrained character traits. He had decided, however, that while he
was still closed off to such talk, it would be a good time to focus him on his religious studies. He
was responding well to the Methadone treatment, and professed to be feeling better (although Rabbi
Kirsh had his doubts on that one), and so it was that they found themselves on that sunny afternoon,
inside attempting to learn Torah.
Well, Rabbi Kirsh was attempting to teach, and Chaim was attempting to ignore.
“Chaim?” he asked sharply, calling the boy’s attention away from the game outside. The
Cliffhangers had just scored. “Are you listening to me?” Chaim looked over at him, an expression of
genuine apathy on his face. “Did you hear what I was saying?” He couldn’t think of a good excuse,
so he shrugged.
“No,” he said simply. It was pointless to try and deny it; he had no idea what they were even
‘studying’. “But I’m sure it was yet another anecdote about our perfect forefathers that I have yet to
live up to.” Rabbi Kirsh frowned, more out of understanding than annoyance.
“Actually,” he said, reaching over to flip the boy’s book to the correct page before sitting back, “we
were studying the Akeidah.” He caught the boy’s eyes for a brief moment before Chaim turned back
to the window. Rabbi Kirsh sighed and turned the page in his own book. “Is it really so difficult for
you to study Torah again?” he asked in a tired voice. Chaim sighed with frustration.
“I’ve learnt the Akeidah,” he said irritably, “I read it in shul for my Bar Mitzvah, my middle name is
Yitzach, I think I know the story....”
“What is the story then?” Rabbi Kirsh asked. Anyone who said they ‘knew’ something about Torah
usually didn’t know much at all. It had also been his experience that those who claim to know very
little were the ones really learned in Torah. Chaim sighed again, putting on a show of being bothered
beyond capacity. He was still staring out the window, but turned to look at the Rabbi again.
“G-d tells Avraham to take his ‘beloved’ son up a mountain and offer him as a sacrifice,” he said in
a bored tone. “You know, the one that he supposedly ‘loves’. And Avraham doesn’t even hesitate.”
Rabbi Kirsh nodded.
“Yes that’s true. If G-d asks something of you you should do it immediately.” Chaim screwed up his
face in a mixture of disbelief and disgust.
“He wanted Avraham to sacrifice Yitzach to him! To kill his son! It’s sick…”
“But he didn’t,” Rabbi Kirsh replied softly, happy that now he had Chaim’s attention. At least anger
was better than indifference. “That is why the story is called ‘the binding of Isaac’, not ‘the sacrifice
of Isaac’. He didn’t kill him; in the end, Hashem accepted the intent as an offering.” Chaim rolled
his eyes and stared out the window again.
“Sounds to me like He gets his kicks by jerking us all around,” he muttered. “Why would he make
him do that? Why would he ask Avraham to kill his own son, and why would Avraham go along
with it? Are we no better than the pagans that sacrificed their children to wood statues?” Rather than
getting angry, Rabbi Kirsh smiled. Chaim was questioning the text, and that was exactly the reaction
he’d been hoping for. Sometimes, the only way to learn is to ask the questions yourself.
“Hashem never intended for Avraham to kill Yitzach,” he responded, “after all, didn’t he tell him he
would make from him ‘a great nation’?” Chaim didn’t turn around, but he did listen. “It was a test,
like many of the other tests Avraham had to pass to become our Patriarch.”
“A test to see if he could murder?” Chaim growled. Rabbi Kirsh laughed at this.
“No, of course not! It was to see how far Avraham would go to do G-d’s will. To see how committed
he really was. How much you are willing to give up for something or someone is a measure of how
much that thing or person is valued.
“Look at things we do today: If you want to go to University after High School, you first have to go
through many tests for that. You must submit an application, attend any required testing or hand in
any required materials, then you must commit yourself to the decision by paying tuition. This also is
a test to see how serious you are about your choice.” Chaim snorted.
“I doubt they ask you to sacrifice your firstborn,” he commented darkly.
“I know a few people who would disagree with you there,” Rabbi Kirsh laughed softly. He shook his
head with a slight smile at the boy’s resistance; he’d expected no less, and was happy that they were
making some progress. He was about to continue the lesson when there was a knock at the door. At
his response, Peter walked in, looking at Chaim, and then at the Rabbi.
“Rabbi Kirsh, I wonder if I could take him now,” he asked. Chaim frowned and looked over at the
older man, sensing that this was something pre-arranged.
“Yes, of course,” Rabbi Kirsh responded. “We can continue this later.” Chaim’s frown deepened.
What was going on? Peter nodded and looked over at Chaim.
“If you’ll come with me, Chaim,” he said, motioning to the door. Chaim looked nervously between
the two men before slowly rising from his seat and hesitantly following Peter out the door.
Peter led him outside and over to the Main Lodge, through corridors and then finally down the hall
to his office. Chaim watched the counselor walking in front of him, wondering if he was finally
going to punish him for the two fights he’d managed to get into in one day. He’d also been caught
breaking other rules, but he figured fighting was a bit more serious than one little kiss.
He hoped. Otherwise he’d be on Shuns for the rest of his life.
He knew he should be nervous about what was going on, but he was just numb. Everything was
happening too fast; his brain was finding it difficult to keep up with it all.
He snapped out of his brooding when Peter opened the door to his office, ushering him inside and
gesturing for him to sit on the couch. Mike was already sitting there waiting for them, and Chaim
hesitated. For his part, Mike actually seemed non-threatening, so he sat as far away from the other
boy as he could on the couch, watching Peter drag his chair over from behind his desk and sit facing
them.
“So,” he began, looking the two in the eye before continuing. “Would either of you care to offer me
an explanation about what happened the other day?” he asked, looking from one to the other. Both
boys avoided looking at him, refusing to answer. After a few minutes Peter nodded to himself, as if
expecting the silence. “Okay,” he said, standing and walking behind his desk. “In that case, you can
both pack your bags.” He started shuffling papers on his desk in an unconcerned manner as the two
boys on the couch looked at each other in shock.
“You…you can’t…” Chaim protested. He’d expected Shuns or some sort of grueling or demeaning
chores, but was he really going to expel them for fighting? Peter looked up at him, trying very hard
to keep his face stern.
“Fighting of any kind is not tolerated at Horizon,” he stated, holding Chaim’s eyes firmly before
going back to his organizing. He was relieved that neither boy was really watching what he was
doing, otherwise they might wonder why he was shuffling a pile of junk mail over and over again in
an effort to look busy.
“But…Mr. Scarbrow,” Mike very nearly begged, “I can’t go home now…” Peter’s cold expression
almost faltered, but he managed to keep it in place. Yes, he knew neither of them could afford to be
sent home now, not at this stage of their ‘recovery’, but the threat worked just as well.
“Who said you were going home, O’Donnell?” Now the boys were thoroughly confused. What could
be worse than expulsion? Peter allowed his expression to soften slightly. “You’re not expelled,” he
explained. “You two are going away for a little bit though.” After another tense silence, he sat
behind his desk and folded his hands over the ‘important papers’ he’d been sifting through. “I’m
sending the two of you on a hike.” He watched the boys turn to look at each other again, glad that at
least they were united in their confusion.
“Usually I would send each of you with your group, but as the two of you are in different groups,
and the Stargazers are already scheduled for a hike today, you’ll be going with them.”
“Sir,” Chaim spoke up. He was a little afraid to mention it, but it had been bothering him for two
days. “What…what about me and Auggie?” he asked, wincing slightly in anticipation. Peter nodded
slightly and sighed.
“I’ve dealt with Auggie,” he said, “you two will have a supervised talk when you get back.” Chaim
didn’t understand what that meant, but if he wasn’t going to be punished for both fights, it was fine
with him. “As I was saying, the Stargazer counselors have been informed of the situation, and I’ve
instructed them that all of your meals, work and other activities should be done together. That means
that the two of you,” he smiled at them from across the room, “will be inseparable for two whole
weeks.”
A look of genuine horror graced both boys’ faces.
“But…” Chaim wracked his brain for an excuse why he couldn’t go. “I can’t…what about
Shabbos?” He felt a thin glimmer of hope at the thought. Surly Rabbi Kirsh wouldn’t allow him to
be making fires and chopping wood on Shabbos?
“I’ve already discussed it with your Rabbi, Chaim,” Peter answered smugly, as if expecting the
protest. “He said you could go if certain conditions are met - which they will be.”
“But…but…” he was getting desperate. Any excuse would do. “My medication…I’m still on
medication!” Peter couldn’t help but chuckle. Beside him, Mike shot him a curious look.
“That’s been taken care of also,” he laughed. “There’s really no point in arguing,” he sighed,
“you’re both going. Now go pack.” With a long suffering sigh, both boys picked themselves up off
the couch. With a glare at each other, they both exited the office, obediently yet reluctantly heading
off to their own cabins.
By the time the sun set that evening, he and Mike had been hiking together for five hours already.
The Stargazers were an older group than him, mostly 18 year olds ready to graduate. As expected,
they didn’t socialize much with the two younger boys, and so Chaim and Mike had only each other
to talk to. At the moment, they were doing a pretty good job of ignoring each other.
The group was hiking in the foothills bordering the school grounds, towards one of the many nearby
mountains. When Chaim asked one of the Stargazer counselors why they were going, he’d gotten a
very cheerful ‘because it’s there’ response. When a halt had finally been called for the night, Chaim
collapsed onto the ground with a grateful sigh, not used to that kind of prolonged activity. Sure he
was thin and appeared healthy, but it was mostly from drug use; he was actually in pretty poor
shape.
Mike sat nearby, keeping his distance. The entire walk the two had been silent, but now Mike was
eyeing Chaim as if he wanted to talk. Chaim had no interest in it at the moment, but glanced up at
him anyway. “What?” he asked tiredly.
“We should set up the tent,” Mike suggested, looking over at all the other Stargazers busily setting
up the camp. The other students had been instructed not to help the two boys, as they had to work
together to accomplish things. Chaim shrugged, but didn’t get up. “Look,” Mike sighed in
exasperation. “I know we don’t like each other right now, but if we don’t get a tent set up we’ll be
freezing our butts off all night…”
“Alright!” Chaim sighed loudly and got up, reluctantly helping Mike with the tent. Mike new more
about camping than he did, and so he was forced to take direction from the other boy. It occurred to
him that this was exactly what Peter was going for when he’d sent them out there, and it just made
the task that much more unbearable. They were nearly finished setting up when Mike stopped and
looked up at Chaim.
“I’m sorry,” he said, as if he’d been rehearsing those two words for the past hour. Chaim frowned
slightly at him.
“For what?” he asked, “It was my fault.” Mike shook his head.
“No, it was mine,” he said. “I…” he stood, surveying their meager tent with his arms folded. “I have
difficulty reading other people…I have a condition that makes me…misunderstand certain
situations. It gets me into a lot of trouble.”
“I’ll bet,” Chaim muttered, but his anger had cooled off. Were they so different? Chaim couldn’t
control his own emotions, and Mike had difficulty interpreting others’. It was like they were meant
to meet. He looked up at the other guy and sighed, relaxing slightly.
“Look, it’s my fault anyway,” he said, trying to take some of the guilt off the other guy. “I could
have let you go, but I didn’t. I was angry and…scared. I’m sorry.” This wasn’t anything new for him
- he was constantly apologizing for something, and he’d gotten very good at it. The difference here
was that this time he really meant it.
“I just can’t watch someone else getting hurt, if you understand me,” Mike continued, nodding at
Chaim’s apology. “Especially someone I care about.” Chaim felt a slight jolt at the words.
“You and Saydie aren’t…”
“No,” Mike said with a small laugh, filling the other guy with relief. “Like I said, she’s like a sister
to me. I apologize for misunderstanding what happened, but I have to make something clear.” He
walked forward, so that they could talk quietly without being overheard. “If I ever hear of you
hurting her, really hurting her, you’d better watch your back.” Chaim took a careful breath and
nodded. He had no intention of hurting her, but he was still a little fearful of Mike.
“Okay,” he said, finishing his side of the tent. He looked for some way to plausibly go off on his
own and spied the water bucket. “I’m going to go get some water from the stream,” he said, trying
hard to keep his voice even. Mike nodded absently, as if he hadn’t threatened the other guy just
seconds before.
“Sure.”
Chaim stumbled through the trees towards the stream, allowing his emotions to take over him the
farther away from camp he went. When he finally made it to the stream, he was crying, and he
collapsed onto the ground and sobbed into his hands. No matter what Mike said, he still felt that it
was all his fault. Saydie had wanted to die because of him, because he’d kissed her. She must hate
him. He knew he hated himself. Even though he no longer felt the cravings like he used to, he
wished for something, anything to take his pain away. Heroin was good for that…it made you forget
everything except the rush it gave you. He just needed some…release.
“Woah, who died?” Chaim’s head shot up to look at one of the Stargazers who stood over him,
water bucket in hand. Obviously he wasn’t as alone as he’d thought. The guy didn’t look the least bit
interested in an answer, and Chaim watched him collect his water from the lake, wiping angrily at
his eyes with one sleeve. The other guy was tall, with short blonde hair and a lean yet muscular
build. When he looked back at him, Chaim realized he hadn’t answered his question.
“No one…” he said quietly, “nothing…it’s nothing.”
“Well it can’t be nothing if you’re in tears about it,” the other boy said. He set his water down and
crossed his arms, looking piercingly down at Chaim. “Look kid, I don’t mean to be rude, but
shouldn’t you be with Marc or Jenn right now?” They were the Stargazer counselors, but Chaim
didn’t want to talk to them. He suddenly felt defensive at the other boy’s tone, and his eyes flashed.
“Look, I didn’t ask you to talk to me,” he shot back. The other guy frowned and picked up his water,
making to leave.
“Geez, it was only a suggestion,” he said as he walked past, heading back to the forest. Chaim didn’t
know why, but he suddenly didn’t want this guy to leave. Maybe he did want to talk…but to
someone who had no idea what was going on with him.
“My name’s not ‘kid,’” Chaim said after him, “It’s Chaim.” The other boy stopped and turned,
eyeing him with a curious expression before heading back towards him.
“Jace,” he said, setting down his water again. He seemed to be as curious about Chaim as he was
about him. “So,” he said, sitting down across from him on another rock, “you really don’t recognize
me then?” Chaim frowned at him.
“Should I?” he asked, puzzled. Jace smiled at him, and Chaim started to clue in. Hadn’t he seen that
smile on a billboard?
“I’m Jace Stanford,” he said, as if that was enough. At Chaim’s blank expression, he chuckled softly
to himself. “What, you don’t watch movies or read tabloids?” Chaim shook his head slightly.
“No,” he said, almost an apology, “my parents don’t have a TV and, well I always found it boring
anyway when I’d watch it with friends.” Jace nodded slowly, as if not really understanding but still
trying to be polite.
“Well, if you did watch it you’d probably recognize me,” he said. “My family’s pretty high profile in
the Media and, well,” he grinned a little, “part of why I’m here was plastered all over the tabloids
not long ago.” Chaim raised an eyebrow, interested.
“What’d you do?” he asked, more than a little curious, and suddenly regretting not keeping up with
the Hollywood gossip. Jace seemed almost proud to relay his misdeeds, and Chaim got the feeling
that this too was rehearsed.
“I’m one of those kids who grew up with money as a parent,” he said with a smile, but Chaim could
tell that it was something he didn’t smile often about. “I’m heir to a computer company and a hotel
chain, I’ve been in three movies, well four if you count that sex tape…” Chaim’s eyebrows rose
even higher. How could he be so nonchalant about something like that?
“Sex tape?” he asked, at once shocked and morbidly curious. Jace laughed.
“You really don’t get out much, do you?” he joked. “Yeah, and with a seemingly straight actor, if
you can believe it. My publicist actually told me that it’s so popular it might be going to DVD. At
least the publicity’s good.”
“You liked the publicity? Isn’t that a little…bent?” Jace offered another of his movie star smiles.
“Not when your net worth has grown 10% because of it,” he responded smugly. Chaim blinked,
looking away for a minute. Then a thought occurred to him.
“Does that mean that…well, you’re…” he nodded suggestively, hoping he wouldn’t have to spell it
out.
“Let’s just say I get the best of both worlds,” Jace replied, very obviously looking Chaim over.
Chaim felt himself blush, and he looked down at his feet.
“Ever get you into trouble?” he asked quietly, picking at a spot of mud on his jeans. He’d had his
share of ‘trouble’ because of his choices, but it was nice to know that others go through the same
things. He was still wrestling with himself over it; part of him hated what he did, but the other sicker
part of him enjoyed it purely because it was wrong. And right now on this hike there were no parents
or Rabbi with him to keep him in line. He looked over at Jace again, thinking this might be a
pleasant diversion...
“Not really,” Jace answered, completely oblivious to Chaim’s brooding. “I’ve had flings, and mostly
they kissed and told to the press. The media eats that stuff up, you know.” Chaim risked another
good look at the guy, trying and failing to hide his smile. “So how long have you known you
were…like me,” Jace asked coyly. Chaim bit his lip and grinned. It was on the tip of his tongue to
tell Jace that he wasn’t like him, but he knew full well what he’d meant.
“Long enough for my parents to catch me,” he said carefully. He didn’t want to reveal too much to
this guy he didn’t know anything about, other than he likes to have himself filmed while having sex.
“Ouch,” he answered. “My parents couldn’t care less what I get up to. They usually just gave me
more money and expected me to occupy myself with it. It was only when my exploits became so
embarrassingly public that they started to care.” Chaim nodded at the story.
“As soon as they heard I was sick, my parents packed me up and sent me here, like they don’t want
to bother with me anymore.” He knew it wasn’t completely true, but he saw it that way. If they’d
really cared they would have noticed something before things had gotten as bad as they had.
“At least you were raised by your parents,” Jace countered, sighing a little. “I was raised by a nanny
until I was twelve, and then when they fired her money became a permanent nanny. I barely see my
real parents. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t even know I was in rehab.”
“Well that…sucks…” Chaim couldn’t think of much else to say to that. He would have preferred it
if his parents had stayed out of his business. They were curiously blind to his drug use, but if he
wanted to take art rather than math or science in school, they were all over it. Never mind that he
was a better painter than he was a mathematician. They didn’t know him at all.
“Well, I’d better get back,” Jace said, getting to his feet. Chaim looked up at him, recognizing this as
his last chance. He knew what he wanted now...
“Jace,” he stopped the other guy from leaving, “are you seeing anyone?” He thought guiltily of
Saydie, but as far as he knew she hated his guts right now. And they weren’t really together anyway.
Jace turned and grinned at him. Walking forward, he pulled Chaim to him and kissed him.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he whispered in his ear.
Chaim picked his way back to the camp. It was nearly dark and everyone was preparing dinner. He
spotted Jace with a group of Stargazers, but when he caught his eye, the other guy didn’t
acknowledge him at all. Mike was giving him a curious look when he saw him coming, taking the
water from him.
“Where were you?” he asked. He couldn’t tell if he was more concerned or annoyed. Chaim just
shook his head at him and went into their tent, stretching out on his sleeping bag. He was exhausted
and hurt and embarrassed. He just wanted to sleep and forget what he’d done…forget he even
existed. Mike’s head poked into the tent for a second, a look of concern on his face. “You okay?”
Chaim forced a smile and nodded.
“Just wiped out from all that hiking,” he lied. He didn’t lie very often and he was terrible at it, but
Mike seemed to have bought it. He zipped up the tent again and let him be. He curled up on his side,
tears sliding silently down his face. At least this time he’d asked for it.