Serge

It’s Friday afternoon and the bus arrives right on time. The guy comes in with a clipboard for me to sign, and I’m so happy that this is all taken care of — it’s here, it’s paid for, and I don’t have to let the kids down.

“Are you going to be the driver?” I ask, handing the clipboard back to him.

The guy looks at me like he doesn’t speak English.

“What?”

“The bus? Driving it? You?”

He scowls at me. “Nah, man. We just provide the bus. No driver.”

My heart stops. “Are you serious? You’re fucking with me, right?”

The guy just shrugs and drops the keys in my hand, leaving.

What kind of rental place gives you a bus without a driver? I should cancel the whole thing now. There’s no money to hire a driver and I’m pretty sure the center’s insurance isn’t going to cover someone else driving it, but I can’t let them down. I just can’t. And I’ve driven a tour bus before. I can handle this. I might not have the right endorsements on my license, but as long as nothing goes wrong, we’ll be fine. Right?

Fuck, I hate this. But there’s nothing that I can do about it now. The kids are going to be showing up any minute with suitcases in hand.

Sure enough, as soon as I go outside, there’s a small group of kids gathering around the bus. Tori’s there too, already helping them load their luggage into the compartments under the bus.

“Hey you,” she says brightly. “Excited for the big day?” Her smile fades quickly and she jogs over to me, concern in her features. “What’s wrong?”

I tell her the whole situation with the bus driver and she sighs.

“I think our best bet is to just have you drive?” she says, nibbling her bottom lip.

I nod. “I know, I was thinking that too. I just hate it.”

She shrugs. “Sometimes you’ve gotta break eggs to make an omelet?”

“I don’t think that’s what that saying means.”

She laughs and rests a hand on my arm, the simple touch sending warm comfort all the way to my bones. “It’ll be okay. You’re doing the right thing for the right reasons. You don’t get punished for that.”

“Maybe you don’t,” I grumble.

“And I’ll be with you,” she says brightly. “Now cheer up before the kids figure out what’s wrong.”

She’s right of course. Which surprises me. Not that she’s right, but that she’s thinking about the kids and what they’re able to perceive. Kids see a lot more than people give them credit for. And, when you’ve got teenagers in the mix, they’re too smart for their own damn good. So I plaster on a smile and help load in luggage.

“No one gets on the bus without giving me a permission slip,” I shout to the crowd, taking up post at the door. One by one they hand me their slips and board the bus, excitement buzzing in the air.

We’re just closing up the compartments when a beat-up Acura squeals to a stop on the curb.

“We’ve got one more for the trip!” Ava shouts, jumping out of the car.

I’m instantly grinning from ear to ear, and the passenger door opens. “Commander!”

She doesn’t run up to me like usual and her skin is still paler than I’m used to, an ashy kind of toffee color instead of the rich deep caramel I’m used to. She smiles and waves and it’s me that does the running, going right up to her and scooping her into a big bear hug.

“I didn’t think you were going to make it.”

Ava smiles. “She’s been doing pretty well and I convinced the doctors to let her out for the weekend. But no staying up late, no piles of junk food, no overexertion. Here’s a list of phone numbers for doctors and social workers in the area that I know. And here,” she says, pulling out a thick binder from the backseat, “is everything you need to know about her medications and stuff. Her foster parents put this together for overnight trips, but there’s never been one until now. If anything happens—”

“Ava,” I say gently, settling a hand on her shoulder. I know that she’s overworked. I know she’s got a hundred more cases like Kamala’s on her plate, and yet I’ve never seen her give less than everything. I’ve never seen her try to shirk her duties. I’ve never seen her neglect Kamala. I know she cares about her as much as I do, even if she doesn’t have as much time to devote to her as she’d like.

“It’s going to be fine. I’m going to take good care of her, I promise.”

Ava slumps forward with a sigh and laughs at herself. “I know you will. Anyone else and I might not be so willing to let her go away, but I know you’ll always look out for her, Serge.”

“Aaaaava,” Kamala whines from the front of the bus. “Tori says I can’t get on without a permission slip.”

Tori’s grinning and holds up her hands innocently. “Those are the rules.”

“Oh, I’ve got that right…” Ava digs in her bag, and while I’m waiting I start rifling through the binder, overwhelmed with the amount of stuff there is to know about Kamala’s condition.

“Where is it?” Ava mutters, and I flip back to the front of the binder.

“Looks like they put it in here. We’re good. Try to have a relaxing weekend for me, will you?” I say, smiling. Ava sighs and laughs at herself again.

“I’ll try. No promises.”

“Thanks for bringing her!” I toss over my shoulder, jogging up to the bus where Tori’s still giggling and blocking Kamala’s playful attempts to get past her.

“I think you might want this,” I whisper to Kamala, handing her the permission slip. She beams at me and straightens her spine before handing it to Tori.

“My ticket. I think you’ll find it all in order,” she says primly.

Tori looks at it studiously, making a lot of ‘hmms’ and ‘ahhs’ before saying, “Yes, it all appears to be here. Please, board the vessel.”

I shake my head at her, following them both on board the bus.

Inside is chaos, kids standing on seats, leaning in aisles, tossing things from the back to the front. I whistle to get their attention, but it does no good, so I grab the intercom and try again.

The kids all stop and shriek, covering their ears and scowling at me.

“Who’s ready to kick some ass?” I say, and they cheer.

“All right, ground rules. I’m driving, so Tori’s in charge if you need anything between here and where we’re going. There’s a bathroom in the back and if you make it a mess, you have to clean it. I want everyone to stay in their seats and stay sitting down the whole ride. It should only be a couple of hours, but the bus has got a DVD player, so if you want a movie—”

“Yeah!” a few of the younger kids cheer.

“—your choices are Frozen or The Lego Movie.” Tori arches a brow and I shrug. So I had a couple of kids movies laying around. I like a little lightness and humor sometimes. And it’s not like I don’t have cause. It’s pretty rare that I’m not feeling normal music class, but when it happens, movies come in handy.

“Those movies are old,” Eddie says.

“That’s what you get. And if you can’t agree on one of them, then there won’t be a movie at all and you’ll just have to listen to me singing the whole way.”

“I vote Lego Movie!” Eddie shouts quickly. Some of the girls argue for Frozen, but it’s quickly decided and Tori’s popping in the DVD as I get settled in the driver’s seat.

Kamala and Tori are sharing the front seats right behind me and I like being able to look into the mirror and see them both there safe and sound.

“I’m so glad you could come with us,” Tori says, slinking down into the seat next to Kamala.

Kamala grins. “Me too. I didn’t think they were going to let me.”

“I know Serge would’ve been bummed if you didn’t make it.”

I try not to listen to every word of their conversation while I make my way to the highway. Thankfully, the kids are mostly behaving. I don’t expect them to be perfect little angels or anything, but they’re my kids, they respect me, and I like to think that they’ll behave better for me than most people. But every time I tune back into the conversation behind me, they’re talking about me again. I don’t know if it’s Tori or Kamala directing the conversation, but my hands tighten on the wheel.

“Every time I’m in the hospital, he gets me a new friend,” Kamala says, digging in her backpack. She pulls out a stuffed rabbit that’s looking worse for wear, kind of a dingy gray instead of white, the fabric rubbed off its nose from eskimo kisses, all the stuffing gone from its joints from too many tight hugs.

“This is Penny. She’s the first one he gave me.”

Tori’s eyes flick to meet mine in the mirror, but I do my best to stay focused on the road.

“That’s really cool.”

Kamala nods. “He said the Commander should never be left alone, so he wanted to keep a…”

“Sentry,” I mutter, catching myself too late.

“Yeah, a sentry to watch over me.”

“So what’s all this ‘Commander’ stuff about then?” Tori asks.

Kamala grins big and my heart swells a little. “I’m the Commander and he’s the General.”

Tori nods. “Where’d that come from?”

“Oh… Well, when I was little I heard the doctors always talking about ‘the fight’ and I thought it was… you know,” she mimes boxing, “but it’s not.”

I try not to laugh at her ‘when I was little’ phrase. Of course she doesn’t think ten is little, it’s the oldest she’s ever been, but it’s cute nonetheless.

“Right,” says Tori, still not getting it.

“Serge told me it’s more like a war, and sickness is the enemy and I have to direct my troops. He called me Commander Kamala because the Commanders are in charge of the troops and he’s the General because the General helps the Commander when they don’t know what to do.”

“I see,” Tori says, looking up at me in the mirror, but I don’t meet her eyes. I know she’s getting all the wrong ideas here and I need to set her straight, but I can’t do that until we’re stopped and that’s not for another hour.

But Kamala’s on a roll now and she’s smart. She can tell that Tori’s interested in me and she’s a great little wingman. She’s chatting me up, telling Tori in excruciating detail what a nice guy I am. I have to tune it out. I’m not going to argue with Kamala and ruin her image of me, but I can’t listen to how much she adores me without needing to say something. I’m not the guy she’s making me out to be. There’s a lot about me that these kids don’t know, hopefully won’t ever know. But Tori knows. And she knows better. But I still see her falling for it.

By the time we get to our exit, the movie’s been over for half an hour and the sun’s been down almost the whole trip. The kids are quiet, half of them asleep, when the bus finally comes to a stop outside the hotel.

“Are we here?” Eddie asks, jumping to his feet before half the kids are roused.

“We’re here, but you need to stay on the bus until I get our room keys, okay?” I can tell Tori wants to come with me, but I hold out a hand. “I need you to stay here and supervise.”

“Right,” she answers, looking crestfallen before she quickly covers it and turns away.

I head to the front desk and check in. They’ve given us a whole block of rooms on a floor all to ourselves, which is awesome. We won’t have to worry about anything. I’ve got the room closest to the elevator, Tori’s got the one closest to the stairs, we’ll be able to hear anything that happens.

One good thing about being in charge as a former trouble maker is that you know all the things kids do to avoid getting caught.

“So, I’ve got thirty-five kids in a bus that haven’t had dinner. Where’s the best place to take them?” I ask the front desk lady.

She looks past me to the bus. “How do they feel about pizza?”

I just grin. “They’re kids.”

“Oh good. I don’t know. Some of these kids are all gluten-free, vegan, who-knows-what. Well, there’s a place right down the road that has a delivery deal with us and we don’t have any reservations on the conference room tonight, so you’re welcome to use that. Here’s their menu. If you tell them you’re staying here, you’ll get a fifteen-percent discount.”

“Perfect, thank you so much.”

“Here’s the key to the conference room,” she says, sliding the key across the counter to me. “Good luck in your competition tomorrow!”

“Thanks!”

When I get back outside, Tori and some of the kids are on the sidewalk, strolling around.

“We needed to stretch our legs,” she says.

I hand her the keys for the girls’ rooms and start pulling all the luggage out of the bus. Tori gets Amanda to fetch luggage carts — which are apparently the coolest thing in the world to kids that have never seen them, they’re trying to race each other like they’re giant skateboards before I put a stop to it. And then we’re getting everyone settled in their rooms. We’ve got someone over fourteen in every room so that none of the kids are totally unsupervised, and most of the rooms have those interior doors connecting them, so I make sure everyone’s accessible before gathering the troops to tell them the plan for dinner.

“Pizza?!” Kamala squeals, her eyes going big. I know Ava said no junk food, but I can’t let the kid starve, right?

“Pizza!” I say with a hungry growl. “We’re going to be in the Juniper Conference Room. You have half an hour to get unpacked, watch TV, explore the hotel, whatever you want. Stay in the building and remember what we talked about with being respectful of other people and our surroundings. I’m doing a headcount before anyone gets pizza and if anyone’s missing, no one’s getting any, so grab a buddy and make sure you’re all there on time, deal?”

The heads around the room nod in unison and I gesture them toward the door. They’re all scattering like chickens right away and then it’s just me and Tori and she’s grinning at me.

“Hey, listen… About all that stuff Kamala said about me. I’m not a saint, Tori, and you should know that.”

She grins and kisses me. “Close enough. Order one with pineapple for me, will you?” And then she’s leaving the room too. There’s a group of girls waiting right outside that greets her. I know they were just hoping for a chance to hang out with her some more, so I let it go. There will be more chances to explain to her later.

I meet the pizza guy at the front of the hotel and I’ve got to help him carry in all the pizzas. Apparently twenty pizzas for thirty-five kids is the exact right amount and I feel a little bad for giving Tori grief about it, but I know she can handle it. Everyone shows up on time and gets their pizza. The hotel’s nice enough to give us paper plates and napkins, and it goes so much better than I thought it would. Not that I expected disaster, but nothing’s ever easy. At least not until now. Maybe the lack of driver was the last of our bad luck for this trip.

The kids are having a blast, it’s loud and crazy, but they’re having fun. For most of them, it’s their first time in a hotel, their first time out of town, maybe even their first time away from their parents. So yeah, it’s a little wild. They’re playing some game I don’t fully understand and I’m just sitting at a table watching. Tori sits next to me and leans against me, putting her head on my shoulder.

“This is going pretty well, isn’t it?” I know she’s talking about the kids and the trip, but I can’t help but think about the other this between us.

“I think so, yeah.”

“You know, I never thought I could have so much fun with a bunch of kids. I might like them more than adults now.”

I chuckle and my arm finds its way around her back.

“Careful, they’ll worm their way into your heart.”

“Too late,” she says with a happy sigh.

My heart clenches and I pull her closer. I’m supposed to be telling her why I’m not what she wants. I’m supposed to be telling her I’m not the nice guy she sees. But instead, I’m just holding her close, happy to have her in my arms. Happy to not be alone.

It’s not something I ever gave much thought to. When you’re living for the next hit, you don’t give much consideration to the future. Especially not a future involving another person, a relationship of any kind.

But with Tori, when she’s like this, when she’s being herself instead of the rock star persona she’s supposed to be, I can see myself falling for her. I can see something between us actually happening. And it gives me pause. Because I shouldn’t be thinking things like that. Not at all. Tori’s lifestyle is exactly what I don’t need in my life. Yeah, she’s doing all right now, but what about when she’s not on parole anymore? What about when she doesn’t have the record label holding the axe over her head?

I just know how easy it is to fall back into old patterns when there’s nothing keeping you away from it. And I know how easy it would be for her to drag me down with her.

But maybe it wouldn’t be like that. Maybe I can handle it now. It’s been almost seven years since my OD. Stress doesn’t really hit me the same way it used to. And maybe seeing how things can be different will make Tori want to try, too. Maybe there’s a chance.

Of course, I don’t say any of that to her. There are more important things to worry about. Whatever’s going on between us can wait to be named until after the competition.

I look at the time and jump away from Tori, standing up. “All right guys, it’s almost ten-thirty. We’ve gotta be up bright and early tomorrow morning, so off to bed.”

There’s a bunch of groaning and whining and complaints, but eventually we wrangle them upstairs and into their rooms. Tori lingers in the hallway with me, eying my door, but nothing can happen when we’re supposed to be chaperoning.

“See you in the morning,” I say. A little of the light goes out of her eyes and she nods.

“Good night,” she says, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss me.

For just a second, I let myself indulge in it. I wrap my arms around her and crush her to my body, inhaling her scent, devouring her mouth. And then I pull back, her lips red and swollen, her eyes wide and wild.

“Good night, Tori.”