GW Robichaux

The four hours between the time he and Bastian were arrested and the time his father came to get him were some of the worst of GW's life.

The two teenagers had been booked at the police station and dumped into the general holding cell along with the drunks and petty criminals picked up over the course of the day. Being locked up was an eye opening and humiliating experience for GW, listening to the ribbing and catcalls from the crooks in the cell and feeling the high from the booze give way to pounding headache of a hangover. He was locked up like a common criminal.

Mr. Sonnier had arrived about an hour before his own father, and the look on the man's face sent GW's spirits even lower. He knew Bastian's home life wasn't the best, his friend occasionally sported bruises and black eyes that he tried to pass off as the effects of being clumsy, and GW feared that Bastian would have a fresh set of bruises before the night was through.

GW had taken one look at his father when he finally arrived and knew to keep his mouth shut. The older Robichaux's jaw was firmly set and there was a tenseness in his movements that spoke of an anger tightly controlled. If GW spoke before being spoken to that anger might not stay controlled. Jean-Bertrand Robichaux had never struck any of his children in anger, and had only rarely spanked them, but the look on his father's face suggested to GW he was sorely tempted in this case.

When the duo finally arrived home, GW's heart sank further at the sight in the kitchen. Sitting at the kitchen table and sipping coffee with his mother was his great aunt Marie, the unofficial head of the extended family.

"Why am I not surprised t' see you here?" His father's tone was resigned, with just a touch of amusement.

Marie looked at her nephew with a similar slightly amused expression, then turned a much more solemn look in GW's direction. "Ivy Gastineau called me at home," she explained. "Her husband Davey mops de floors at de precinct house. Reckon she was mighty surprised to hear dis boy got walked in dere by a policeman."

The old woman got up, her hand grasping the head of her cane tightly as she levered herself to her feet, and she stumped quietly across the floor towards the teenager and his father. Sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window caused her shadow stretch over the linoleum surface, and she looked up slightly to see GW's face without obstruction. The boy still looked half drunk, and Marie's lips pursed with disapproval.

Then she slapped him, the flat of her hand coming into stinging contact with his left cheek. Her dark eyes snapped sparks at him, pinning him to the spot. "You mighty disappointin', George," she said evenly, shaking her head. "You tryin' t' ruin your life, you?" The rubber tip of her cane thumped against the floor solidly, punctuating her words, and she leveled an admonishing index finger at him. "Reckon I gonna hear what was goin' t'rough your mind, if anyt'in'."

GW's father said nothing as his aunt slapped his eldest child, he simply moved to stand behind his wife and put his hands on her shoulders. Susan Robichaux opened her mouth to speak, but closed it when her husband squeezed gently, a silent signal to let Marie do the talking for now.

GW's head snapped back from the force of the slap and the teenager touched his cheek where the impact of the slap still burned. He looked between the three adults in the kitchen and could tell he would find no sympathy from any of them. "I...I was thinkin' 'bout th' peckerhead lookin' down his nose at us just because we was catcallin' his boy." The teenager looked down at his feet, knowing what he'd done was stupid but there wasn't anyway to undo his and Bastian's actions. "We weren't thinkin' too good. I'm sorry fer what I did, me," his voice was barely audible, "I'll make it right, pay t' fix de SUV."

Hopefully he'd only be charged with a misdemeanor, he wasn't eighteen yet and it was the first time he'd ever been arrested for anything.

"Mmm. You boys, I swear." Marie's voice was still censuring, and her headshake was slow and disapproving. "You an' dat Sonnier young'un, runnin' roun' carryin' on like trash. Is he gonna pay fer de damage, too? Dat boy ain't got two quarters to rub together, him."

Still looking the disheveled teenager over, Marie spoke to his father. "What de police say, Jean? Dere a court date set? How much money it take to fix what's broke?"

Jean eyed his son from his spot behind his wife. He'd been trying to get through to George for years now, seemingly with no effect, and now this had happened. If his eldest continued in this pattern, he could end up dead or in prison before he reached twenty five. Something had to give.

"No estimate yet, but it'll be several thousand easy. All th' windows are busted and they'll have t' fix th' body work too. Not gonna be cheap, that's certain." He watched as George looked down at his shoes again, the boy's face turned bright red.

"Talked to the police, th' charges are public intoxication, possession o' alcohol by a minor, and vandalism for George, an' th' Sonnier boy's gonna be charged w' exposure as well. A fine example for his brothers an' sisters, George is settin."

"Exposure," Marie repeated, as though she couldn't believe it. "Don' have to ask where dey got de liquor, I guess. Lord, Lord..." She had begun to talk past GW as if he were no longer there, and the toe of her shoe began to tap on the kitchen floor, a sure sign that she was thinking. Planning. Plotting.

"What th' school say? Dis gonna affect George gettin' his diploma? He gonna need dat if he wanna do somethin' 'sides play music." Not that playing the fiddle was bad, in the old woman's opinion. Her own husband had played the fiddle for years, still picked up the instrument every now and then. But music couldn't always put food on the table, nor could it support a family by itself, not without luck.

"How serious is this fella about pressin' charges?"

"I had a long conversation wit' th' Principal an' George's history teacher, Mr. Jessup. If the charges are dropped. George 'll get 'is diploma, but th' graduation ceremony is out, an he's definitely suspended no matter what. Th' prosecutor, he's a brother Knight o' Columbus, Immaculate Heart parish council. He might be persuaded t' drop the charges, him, if we can work a deal."

They were both talking past GW now, and the teenager gathered his courage to speak up. "Don' I get a say in any o' this? It's my life we're talkin' about!" He was indignant that they were talking like he wasn't even in the room.

"George, be quiet!" His mother had found her voice, and it wasn't one GW wanted to hear. "You're in deep trouble and you aren't going to be able to get out on your own. Wait and hear what your father and your great aunt have to say before you talk. Marie and I have already discussed things and your father knows my views, now you will sit down and be quiet or you are no longer welcome in this house." Her voice was like iron, and GW knew that there would be no further argument. He either did as he was told or he would have to leave.

GW sat down and waited for the rest.

"You open your mouf like dat again an' I'll slap the teeth outta it," Marie said, her voice sharper than anyone in the room had ever heard it. "Your parents ain't raised you to act like trash, an' neither have I. You shame yourself an' us wit' dis nonsense. Tearin' things up, peein' on stuff like you some baby. You ain't two no more, George!"

The tip of the old woman's cane slammed into the kitchen floor, and she pointed a stern finger at the teenager. "You damn disappointin'," she intoned, cursing on this rare occasion because they boy just refused to listen. "Lucky your daddy ain't lef' you in jail, an' it was a struggle to get him to bring you home. Now you gonna sit and you gonna listen...den we see if dis can be fixed."

There was a silence, a strained one, and finally Marie looked back towards her nephew. "De Marines," she said after another beat. "De Army. Somethin'. He got to go away from here, find out what he wants to do with hisself. Can't go on like dis, Jean. Not 'less you want to see him in Angola."

"I didn' pee on nothin'!" GW protested without thinking, "Dat was Bastian! I'll admit what I did, but I didn' pee in public!" That had been a surprise, he'd never expected Bastian to do something like that, but the other boy sometimes just wasn't all there.

The rest of his great aunt's comments left the teenager speechless and caused his jaw to drop. The Marines? The Army? Were they out of their minds?! He already had his future planned out, what did he need with the military?

"I been thinkin' bout' th' Marines for George for a while now," Jean told his aunt. "They can give him some direction, straighten him out. Lord knows I done all I can, best let th' Corps have a try."

His attention turned to his son. "I talked to th' local recruiter son, they offer signin' bonuses for enlistments that would cover yer expenses on repairin' the car and any fines th' prosecutor requires. There's nothin' wrong with servin' yer country, son. The Marines are one o' th' finest outifts in th' world."

"Hmm. Th' recruiter, he a nice man?" Marie asked, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. She had a deep fondness for Jean's oldest son and always had, but right now she was just so exasperated with him that anything would suit her as long as it got him straightened out. "Don' wanna send George off wit' nobody who's trouble. Reckon that's how we got here."

She looked at the boy ruefully, shaking her head. "We tryin' to help you, hard-head. You want t'go to jail? Mebbe end up workin' on a shrimp boat all summer to pay fer helpin' tear up dat car? What else would you suggest, you so smart, huh?"

"He won't have much t' do with it, Marie." Jean was amused, "Once he puts George here on the plane he's done. His job is t' recruit, not t' train." He looked at his son thoughtfully, "he'll be in th' hands o' th' drill instructors after that. Imagine they seen a lot o boys like George, me. Dey'll tear him down an build him back up a Marine."

GW looked back and forth between his father and his great aunt, the mental gears whirling in his head. He didn't see anything wrong with working on a shrimp boat or helping farm the rice fields, they were honorable professions. But he was more concerned about what this meant about his prospects for getting his high school diploma and whether there would be any charges.

"Will they drop th' charges if I join up? And what 'bout Bastian? Can't leave him t' face it all by himself."

"Knowin' what I know 'bout Bastian's father, I'd 'magine arrangements were made de second he hung up de phone," Marie replied somewhat grimly. She knew Etienne Sonnier only to speak to, but she had seen the bruises on his son too, on more than one occasion. While she genuinely felt badly for the larger boy, she had her own family to worry about.

"Likely he'll be sent off to join up himself, since I doubt he wants to see th' inside of another jail cell. Mebbe he'll get some sense in his head, him. Comes a time, a boy's got to learn to be a man. Reckon it's dat time fer both of ya'll."

The old woman set her cane aside, folded her arms sternly across her chest. "Jean, when's th' soonest he could go? If dere ain't no charges and he gets his diploma, how soon could dey take 'im?"

"He's supposed t' be done wi' school in less than a month," GW's father replied, scratching the back of his head in thought. "I don' know how much time he'll be suspended, but imagine they ship out recruits every week, so within a week o' whenever he's done with school. I'll talk t' everyone, make th' arrangements. George'll be on his way to Boot Camp by the middle o' next month."

GW had quit trying to put in his two cents, it seemed like he really didn't have any choice. He slumped in his seat and crossed his arms, seeing the future he had planned for himself flying away, all because he had to get back at that old fart who'd talked down at him and Bastian.

Seeing the teenager's dejection, Marie took momentary pity on him. George was not a bad boy, and truly neither was Bastian. But they were impulsive, headstrong boys, and that was going to get them in trouble one day if they weren't reined in by someone. Better to have the armed forces do it than the penal system.

"We doin' dis for your own good, you," she said, coming to stand next to him so she could tousle his hair as she'd done when he was still a child. "And reckon you t'ank us for it one day, even if you mad now. I don' want to only see you on visitin' days." She nodded emphatically, then stepped away from GW's chair.

"I goin' outside to have a chew," she said to the other adults in the room, then addressed her great-nephew again. "'Fore you leave, I make you a charm for protection. Never know what lay waitin' out dere in th' world. I want you safe, George, don' forget dat." The screen door creaked open, then smacked shut with the sound of finality. The moon was high and full in the sky, shining down through a gap in the tress, and Marie looked up at it before letting out a long sigh. "Boys..."