(no subject)
Reason
by Harikari
-----
Part Two
"What are you doing?" ventured Mohinder.
Gabriel shrugged. Stared.
Mohinder used the silence, pulled at the grass near his knees and studied Gabriel. The boy had dark, short-cropped hair. Had on wire frame glasses and a t-shirt and tan khaki shorts that looked as if they had been ironed.
"How old are you?"
"Nine." A pause. For a moment Mohinder thought that was all of Gabriel's reply; thought that the other boy was clamming up on purpose, that he was trying to brush his unexpected visitor off with silence. "How old are you?"
"I turned ten last month." Mohinder let the blades of grass he'd torn from the ground fall away from his fingers. "Since you're not doing anything..." he trailed off. "Do you want to play?"
Gabriel's eyes widened behind his glasses. "Play?" he asked. But Mohinder wasn't listening, he was digging into his pockets. After a few seconds of searching he pulled out a pack of gum. The pack was mostly depleted, only three sticks of the mint gum remained.
"Want one?" asked Mohinder. And he didn't wait for an answer. He grabbed two sticks, handed one to the other boy.
Gabriel accepted the offering, stared at his piece of gum for a long moment. Then, abruptly, one half of his mouth lifted in a smirk. He scooted closer to his new companion. Their knees bumped. "Mohinder," he said, as if testing the name out.
And they talked. They went on about school (it turned out that once Fall hit they would be attending the same one), about Mohinder and the fact that he had just moved to New York from very far away, about Gabriel and the fact that he lived in one of the buildings that bordered the park -- the building opposite Mohinder's new home.
"Let's go play," said Mohinder during a break in the conversation. He stood, started strolling toward the trash can.
Gabriel scrambled up and followed him. He caught up as Mohinder was tossing the apple core he'd picked up on the way into the bin and spitting out his gum. "What are you doing?" he asked, then spit out his own gum.
"To play," Mohinder said again and smiled wide. As if caught up in the glow of the other boy's joy, Gabriel smiled back -- but Mohinder saw his smile fall as he started away again.
He was heading for the basketball court and the group of teenagers.
He felt a hand squeeze his arm with clamp-like force, then let go. He glanced back. "You can't. Don't do that," ordered Gabriel. He sounded desperate.
Mohinder stopped. Both boys were standing at the very edge of the court. The teenagers had paused their game, were smirking and guffawing and talking to each other in low tones.
"Why not?" asked Mohinder.
Gabriel clenched his teeth, narrowed his eyes. "Because-"
"What do you want, Gray?" demanded one teen (he and all of the others standing around the court looked about thirteen) before the other boy could finish his explanation.
"Yeah," put in another teen. This one was holding the basketball. "We already told you to stay away. We've told you..." he trailed off. Took a few steps forward. "What is this?" he asked and gestured at Mohinder. "Back up?" There was an explosion of laughter.
"I just..." Mohinder started. All eyes turned to him, and he immediately regretted saying anything. All he had wanted to do was ask if he and his new friend could join the game. The group standing before them were acting as if they had been insulted somehow, as if they were readying for a fight. "I was just going to ask if we could play."
"No," said the teen with the basketball. He took a few more steps forward, ended up no more than an arm's length in front of the ten year old. "I've already told Gray here he can't play, and now I'm telling you." The teenager smiled so wide he showed teeth.
"Gray," he said, and at the same moment reached out and shoved at Mohinder's right shoulder. Wide eyed, Mohinder stumbled backward. The teen moved as if to follow the startled boy, to crowd him. But was stopped by Gabriel, who was suddenly standing between the teen and the ten year old.
"Don't," said Gabriel. His hands rolled into fists. "Don't, Mike."
Mike glared, let the basketball drop. It bounced a few times, rolled to a stop at the base of the pole the backboard was bolted to. "Don't? What is this? All of a sudden you have a spine, Gray? Are you trying to show off in front of your new friend..." The teen allowed his speech to trail off into silence.
"That's it, isn't it?" asked Mike after a pause. His grin returning, he looked back at his group of friends. "Jason," he said, and the teen who had spoken to Gabriel first snapped to attention. "Why don't you remind Gabe here that he can't play with us. I'll make sure the new kid-"
As Mike was speaking he was moving, maneuvering around Gabriel and heading for Mohinder. But Gabriel was moving, too.
The nine year old tensed, bent slightly at the waist, charged. He slammed into the teenager's stomach head first, like a bull. Mike made a strange huff noise, a noise like all of the air in his lungs had been suddenly forced out.
But it hadn't been forced out, because a moment later Mike yelled. "Son of a bitch!" he cried out before he hunched and clutched at his abdomen. "You-" he started, was cut off when Gabriel straightened in a flash of movement and launched a fist at the teenager's face. There was a muffled slap of impact.
Mike let out a wordless cry (probably of pain, maybe of surprise). He toppled sideways; lost his balance and fell.
Mohinder stared at the teen. Saw that Mike was clutching at his face with one hand, saw that blood was seeping from between that hand's fingers.
The ten year old looked quickly away from the fallen Mike and the blood. Stared at Gabriel.
"Why did you do that?" he asked.
Gabriel turned at the question. He was breathing hard and fast. "You..." he started, trailed off. "I tried to tell you. They're mean. They're always...my mom asked them to play with me once. She asked them if they could watch after me for a little while and-"
"You didn't have to do that," said Mohinder.
"I did!" shouted Gabriel, his face twisting, and Mohinder flinched. The nine year old seemed suddenly scary, dangerous. But then he breathed. His face smoothed and his eyes lost their fire. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry...just..."
Mohinder's eyes shifted back to Mike. One of the teens had sprinted away from the scene, another two were bending over their friend in concern, and Jason was looking beyond the two younger boys, staring bug eyed at something behind them.
"Mohinder!" came a deep voice. And Mohinder gasped, spun. Saw his father standing next to an idling taxi in front of their building. The man was straight-backed, staring across the space that separated them. He quickly handed the driver some money and the taxi pulled away.
"Come on," Jason spat. He hurried over to his group of friends, helped haul Mike up. "Let's get the hell out of here." And with that, they stumbled off.
Mohinder took a step toward his obviously fuming father, saw his mother come speedily out the building's front doors and down the steps...
"I'm sorry, Mohinder."
Mohinder turned. Saw that Gabriel was staring at him. The other boy looked miserable. "Will you...can we...are you my friend?" he asked. "Are we friends now? Still?"
Mohinder pursed his lips, thought about Mike shoving and the group of teens laughing and the fact that Gabriel had only been standing up for him...
He smiled. "Yes," he said. "Of course. We're friends. Maybe next time...maybe we can really play next time."
Gabriel grinned.
"Just..." the ten year old continued, then paused. "You didn't have to do that."
He waved, sprinted away from the court and from the nine year old just as his mother and father started across the street.
"Yes I did," he thought he heard Gabriel breathe as he hurried toward home and his parents. But he didn't look back. He thought perhaps he'd imagined it, or that Gabriel was just being flip.
It didn't really matter. It didn't really mean anything.
"Mohinder," said his mother when he met her on the sidewalk. She reached to cradle his face; studied him. "Are you..." she started, but was cut off by his father.
"Mohinder. What happened? Who was that?"
Mohinder smiled. "I made a new friend," he said. "His name is Gabriel. Gabriel Gray."
Part Three
by Harikari
-----
Part Two
"What are you doing?" ventured Mohinder.
Gabriel shrugged. Stared.
Mohinder used the silence, pulled at the grass near his knees and studied Gabriel. The boy had dark, short-cropped hair. Had on wire frame glasses and a t-shirt and tan khaki shorts that looked as if they had been ironed.
"How old are you?"
"Nine." A pause. For a moment Mohinder thought that was all of Gabriel's reply; thought that the other boy was clamming up on purpose, that he was trying to brush his unexpected visitor off with silence. "How old are you?"
"I turned ten last month." Mohinder let the blades of grass he'd torn from the ground fall away from his fingers. "Since you're not doing anything..." he trailed off. "Do you want to play?"
Gabriel's eyes widened behind his glasses. "Play?" he asked. But Mohinder wasn't listening, he was digging into his pockets. After a few seconds of searching he pulled out a pack of gum. The pack was mostly depleted, only three sticks of the mint gum remained.
"Want one?" asked Mohinder. And he didn't wait for an answer. He grabbed two sticks, handed one to the other boy.
Gabriel accepted the offering, stared at his piece of gum for a long moment. Then, abruptly, one half of his mouth lifted in a smirk. He scooted closer to his new companion. Their knees bumped. "Mohinder," he said, as if testing the name out.
And they talked. They went on about school (it turned out that once Fall hit they would be attending the same one), about Mohinder and the fact that he had just moved to New York from very far away, about Gabriel and the fact that he lived in one of the buildings that bordered the park -- the building opposite Mohinder's new home.
"Let's go play," said Mohinder during a break in the conversation. He stood, started strolling toward the trash can.
Gabriel scrambled up and followed him. He caught up as Mohinder was tossing the apple core he'd picked up on the way into the bin and spitting out his gum. "What are you doing?" he asked, then spit out his own gum.
"To play," Mohinder said again and smiled wide. As if caught up in the glow of the other boy's joy, Gabriel smiled back -- but Mohinder saw his smile fall as he started away again.
He was heading for the basketball court and the group of teenagers.
He felt a hand squeeze his arm with clamp-like force, then let go. He glanced back. "You can't. Don't do that," ordered Gabriel. He sounded desperate.
Mohinder stopped. Both boys were standing at the very edge of the court. The teenagers had paused their game, were smirking and guffawing and talking to each other in low tones.
"Why not?" asked Mohinder.
Gabriel clenched his teeth, narrowed his eyes. "Because-"
"What do you want, Gray?" demanded one teen (he and all of the others standing around the court looked about thirteen) before the other boy could finish his explanation.
"Yeah," put in another teen. This one was holding the basketball. "We already told you to stay away. We've told you..." he trailed off. Took a few steps forward. "What is this?" he asked and gestured at Mohinder. "Back up?" There was an explosion of laughter.
"I just..." Mohinder started. All eyes turned to him, and he immediately regretted saying anything. All he had wanted to do was ask if he and his new friend could join the game. The group standing before them were acting as if they had been insulted somehow, as if they were readying for a fight. "I was just going to ask if we could play."
"No," said the teen with the basketball. He took a few more steps forward, ended up no more than an arm's length in front of the ten year old. "I've already told Gray here he can't play, and now I'm telling you." The teenager smiled so wide he showed teeth.
"Gray," he said, and at the same moment reached out and shoved at Mohinder's right shoulder. Wide eyed, Mohinder stumbled backward. The teen moved as if to follow the startled boy, to crowd him. But was stopped by Gabriel, who was suddenly standing between the teen and the ten year old.
"Don't," said Gabriel. His hands rolled into fists. "Don't, Mike."
Mike glared, let the basketball drop. It bounced a few times, rolled to a stop at the base of the pole the backboard was bolted to. "Don't? What is this? All of a sudden you have a spine, Gray? Are you trying to show off in front of your new friend..." The teen allowed his speech to trail off into silence.
"That's it, isn't it?" asked Mike after a pause. His grin returning, he looked back at his group of friends. "Jason," he said, and the teen who had spoken to Gabriel first snapped to attention. "Why don't you remind Gabe here that he can't play with us. I'll make sure the new kid-"
As Mike was speaking he was moving, maneuvering around Gabriel and heading for Mohinder. But Gabriel was moving, too.
The nine year old tensed, bent slightly at the waist, charged. He slammed into the teenager's stomach head first, like a bull. Mike made a strange huff noise, a noise like all of the air in his lungs had been suddenly forced out.
But it hadn't been forced out, because a moment later Mike yelled. "Son of a bitch!" he cried out before he hunched and clutched at his abdomen. "You-" he started, was cut off when Gabriel straightened in a flash of movement and launched a fist at the teenager's face. There was a muffled slap of impact.
Mike let out a wordless cry (probably of pain, maybe of surprise). He toppled sideways; lost his balance and fell.
Mohinder stared at the teen. Saw that Mike was clutching at his face with one hand, saw that blood was seeping from between that hand's fingers.
The ten year old looked quickly away from the fallen Mike and the blood. Stared at Gabriel.
"Why did you do that?" he asked.
Gabriel turned at the question. He was breathing hard and fast. "You..." he started, trailed off. "I tried to tell you. They're mean. They're always...my mom asked them to play with me once. She asked them if they could watch after me for a little while and-"
"You didn't have to do that," said Mohinder.
"I did!" shouted Gabriel, his face twisting, and Mohinder flinched. The nine year old seemed suddenly scary, dangerous. But then he breathed. His face smoothed and his eyes lost their fire. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry...just..."
Mohinder's eyes shifted back to Mike. One of the teens had sprinted away from the scene, another two were bending over their friend in concern, and Jason was looking beyond the two younger boys, staring bug eyed at something behind them.
"Mohinder!" came a deep voice. And Mohinder gasped, spun. Saw his father standing next to an idling taxi in front of their building. The man was straight-backed, staring across the space that separated them. He quickly handed the driver some money and the taxi pulled away.
"Come on," Jason spat. He hurried over to his group of friends, helped haul Mike up. "Let's get the hell out of here." And with that, they stumbled off.
Mohinder took a step toward his obviously fuming father, saw his mother come speedily out the building's front doors and down the steps...
"I'm sorry, Mohinder."
Mohinder turned. Saw that Gabriel was staring at him. The other boy looked miserable. "Will you...can we...are you my friend?" he asked. "Are we friends now? Still?"
Mohinder pursed his lips, thought about Mike shoving and the group of teens laughing and the fact that Gabriel had only been standing up for him...
He smiled. "Yes," he said. "Of course. We're friends. Maybe next time...maybe we can really play next time."
Gabriel grinned.
"Just..." the ten year old continued, then paused. "You didn't have to do that."
He waved, sprinted away from the court and from the nine year old just as his mother and father started across the street.
"Yes I did," he thought he heard Gabriel breathe as he hurried toward home and his parents. But he didn't look back. He thought perhaps he'd imagined it, or that Gabriel was just being flip.
It didn't really matter. It didn't really mean anything.
"Mohinder," said his mother when he met her on the sidewalk. She reached to cradle his face; studied him. "Are you..." she started, but was cut off by his father.
"Mohinder. What happened? Who was that?"
Mohinder smiled. "I made a new friend," he said. "His name is Gabriel. Gabriel Gray."
Part Three