Red-Handed (Sean)

[Jeff McIntosh]

(this thread takes place immediately after this one)

Jeff stalked out of the cafeteria, through the courtyard, and past the pond. He hadn't meant to hit anyone with the bottle of hot sauce he'd thrown, and although he felt bad he also was annoyed at how peppy and friendly the girl he'd hit had been. She should have been upset, so that he could feel righteously indignant about his intentions. Instead he now had to feel guilty that not only had he hit a fragile girl, but also that she had been nothing but gracious about it. 

Ugh. 

He scuffed at the ground angrily, and then flopped onto the wall surrounding the pond. He wasn't especially interested in fish; they weren't energetic, physical companions, not like his Bear was. He still wished he could have brought his dog with him; only seeing his pet over breaks wasn't enough. 

Instead, although the school mascot was a husky, he only got fish in a pond. 

More like... temporarily replacing the answers with false solutions. A feminine voice echoed in his head, and he rubbed at his temples. He had never been very good when it came to controlling his power, and when he was upset even more so. 

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean had a particular dislike of food fights.

Even as a student, he had never participated in them, neither at Hammel nor, earlier, when in Catholic school. Of course, in both places, students faced swift reprisals from wasting food and behaving in such an uncouth manner, although his Catholic school teachers used physical punishment when Hammel had not.

Hammel still did not, certainly not on his watch.

And Sean cared less about strict propriety than he did about the fact that throwing food risked injury to someone else, while still wasting food. Particularly in the middle of the worst economic downturn since the Great Depression, where so many children lived in poverty, he had no tolerance from being so thoughtless and wasteful.

More so, because the food thrown in question had been salsa, which could burn if it hit someone’s eye.

Thus he had followed Jeff McIntosh out of the cafeteria when the boy left, intent on catching him before he snuck off in one direction or another.

Not that anyone could sneak too far from a telepath.

The psychiatrist found Jeff out by the pond, and his shadow loomed over the boy as he approached him. “Jeff,” he said soberly, announcing his presence with that single word.

[Jeff McIntosh]

The looming shadow followed by the booming voice of one Doctor Neville caused a spike of panic to well up within Jeff. Why was the school disciplinarian standing behind him? Why was the school disciplinarian calling his name?

Had he done something? Had something happened in his family?

Oh, no. 

Oh, no, no, no. 

Had Doctor Neville seen him throw the hot sauce bottle? 

He was going to die, Doctor Neville was going to literally kill him, or possibly turn him in to Mr. Cunningham or Coach Pruitt, either one of which would result in the same thing. Never mind that the school psychiatrist had a firm but gentle demeanor. This could only end in death. 

"Doctor Neville?" He replied weakly. 

He was definitely going to die. 

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The boy’s jumble of thoughts were loud, and, despite following a panic and somewhat confusing narrative, Sean followed them well enough. The fact that Jeff thought that his primary role was as the disciplinarian rather than the psychiatrist said more about the boy’s social circle than he might expect.

Otherwise, at least he and Jeff were on the same page about the course of events. Right now, the psychiatrist was here as the disciplinarian, as well as a member of the administration who had seen reckless behavior with his own two years, rather than as a mental health professional. Yes, he had followed the boy out here because Jeff had thrown a bottle of hot sauce in an attempt to start a food fight.

A bottle of hot sauce.

That continued to boggle the psychiatrist’s mind. Even as a fifteen-year-old, he knew better than that. Even as a six year old, Sean had known better than that.

Such was the level of maturity among a certain population of teenagers these days.

As was the overly dramatic mental litany that he would die, as though the psychiatrist was a violent individual known for having a bad temper.

“I assume you know why I’m here.” By which he meant that the telepathy ensured that he did know.

[Jeff McIntosh]

The downside of interacting with a telepath was that he couldn't deny anything, because otherwise he might have feigned innocence. Not that he was especially skilled at feigning innocence, but that didn't stop him from trying with people he thought might not know otherwise. 

Here, there was no amount of lying that would work. 

"It was empty!" He protested, as though this changed the fact that he'd hit another student in the eye with a bottle. "And I didn't see her there!" 

Which had been true; he hadn't actually intended to hit anyone. He'd thrown it in a fit of temper at the bottle rather than as an act of aggression towards his classmates, and he'd felt bad that he'd hit her.

That probably wasn't going to fly with adults, though. Adults were not especially understanding of loss of temper. 

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean had lectured students time and again about the folly of lying to a telepath. “It demeans both of us.”

Not that such lectures prevented the very human instinct of lying to cover one’s tracks or to deflect blame or scrutiny. Not that the human impulse made the exercise less foolish when talking to a telepath.

For that alone, the psychiatrist appreciated that Jeff had the self-awareness not to make the attempt. Perhaps they could have a simple, mature conversation...

And then the boy tried to excuse his behavior on the grounds that the bottle had been empty, so the fact that it hit a fellow student in the eye didn’t matter.

So much for his hopes of a mature conversation.

“When we live with other people, we have a responsibility to be mindful of those around us.” Which was to say that Jeff shouldn’t have thrown the bottle, despite having no idea that a student was in its direct path. He should know better.

In fact, Sean was sure he did know better, since he couldn’t imagine that such an excuse would work with Jeff’s parents.

As for the rest of it, while the psychiatrist was familiar with other people having temper lapses (as his were so few and far between that most people considered them as mythical as unicorns and underpants gnomes), this didn’t mean that he encouraged or excused them. Not when they involved a physical component.

“The next time a condiment bottle is empty, I advise you calmly look for one that isn’t.”

[Jeff McIntosh]

So much for his attempts at rationalization. Adults always seemed immune to this, despite his best efforts. Nick had told him on more than one occasion that he was just bad at justifications, but that couldn't possibly be the truth. More likely adults were just stubborn. 

"Yeah, I guess," He mumbled, glaring down at the fish in the pond. They seemed so peaceful, as if they didn't know that he was unfairly being chewed out by the school disciplinarian. 

He also wasn't entirely sure how he was supposed to be calm in the face of a clear crisis like being out of hot sauce. How could anyone be calm in those circumstances? 

"But you're like....naturally calm and stuff. You can't hold the rest of us to your standards!" 

This was completely unreasonable! Nobody else had Dr. Neville's zen, and he didn't think he could be expected to adhere to this. 

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean came to the conclusion that Jeff had a skewed sense of scale if he considered this conversation to be chewing out. They had not begun to reach that stage, although, given the boy’s responses as they talked, the psychiatrist had no reason to think they wouldn’t reach it by the time he dragged Jeff into his office.

While Sean’s expression didn’t shift, it contained none of the warmth typically present when reassuring the students. The boy was digging himself in deeper with every word, and, for both of their sakes, he hoped that Jeff would come to that conclusion before he found himself buried completely. “You have no idea what my standards are,” he informed the boy bluntly. “But it’s entirely reasonable to expect other people not to lash out physically when presented with a minor frustration.”

Running out of a condiment was a minor frustration, and it could never rise to a higher level than that. The fact that Jeff couldn’t see this, or that he refused to acknowledge this because he chose to dig his heels in was nearly as concerning as the fact that he had hit another student in the eye with a hot sauce bottle in the first place.

[Jeff McIntosh]

Jeff hunched his shoulders together, feeling extremely put upon in this moment. Some students, he knew, thought that Dr. Neville was kind and approachable, but actually he just seemed like a tower of intimidation who had a lot of very confusing expectations. 

"Fine," He muttered viciously, glaring at the koi rather than look Dr. Neville in the eye. "Do I have detention or whatever?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean prided himself on the fact that he was both kind and approachable. While kindness came easily to him, as did empathy and the ability to listen patiently without comment when people needed to vent, and the ability to offer advice when people wanted his opinion, he worked at making himself approachable. Several times, friends and coworkers had called him a teddy bear, and there remained the flattering incident when Clarisse had called him a saint (even if he maintained, six years later, this had been inaccurate), and he wanted the students to come to him with problems. At the same time, he was in his late-fifties, taller than essentially all of the students save the smallest number, built like a linebacker, a powerful telepath, and he maintained a position of authority as the school disciplinarian. Some students found that intimidating.

Particularly when he was in the process of disciplining them.

“Yes,” the psychiatrist replied without breaking his gaze from the boy. “You do have detention, and you owe Ruby an apology, so for your sake I hope you have something more sincere than ‘I was out of hot sauce; what else should I have done?’” Sean believed in sincere apologies rather than insincere ones, and so he stressed this point.

[Jeff McIntosh]

"But I did apologize to her!" 

He had apologized as soon as he had realized that he'd hit her! Of course, given that it had been a rather reluctant apology it might not count for Dr. Neville's purposes. 

That was a distressing thought. He might have to talk to her again. She'd been so cheerful despite being hit with a bottle of hot sauce that he actually had felt guilty, and then she'd tried to be sociable, and really what if she felt that his attempt at a more sincere apology meant he wanted to socialize with her? 

That would be terrible. 

Did adults thrive on forcing teenagers into awkward and uncomfortable situations? Clearly the answer to this was yes. 

But the fact of the matter was, either way he already had detention. Fighting that would make it worse, and if he made it worse word might get back to Coach Pruitt, and then he might be benched during soccer games. 

"Fine," He sulked, slouching and grimacing. "When do I have to be there." 

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean gazed at the boy with a controlled non-expression. Jeff’s train of thought proved correct; the psychiatrist did not consider a reluctant apology – one for an action that the individual continued to try to excuse as not being a big deal and not intention (as though that excused carelessness) – to count, since it lacked sincerity and contrition, thus undermining the point of an apology in the first place. “In that case, you can apologize to her again.”

With sincerity this time. If the boy couldn’t muster that immediately, then perhaps, given time for reflection, he would find it within him eventually.

“Detention with me will begin after classes this afternoon. Detention with Miss Raines will begin after classes tomorrow afternoon.”

Josie would find a way to put him to work, and she would not tolerate Jeff’s attitude in the slightest. For his own part, Sean would prove a less grueling taskmaster. Instead, he would give the boy a lecture about responsibility and make him read up on how the eye was the only part of the body that didn’t grow after birth and couldn’t regenerate.

“You can go back inside now.” The psychiatrist intended that as more than a mere suggestion or as encouragement; he expected Jeff to go back inside.

[Jeff McIntosh]

"With Miss Raines?" Jeff whispered, horrified by this. She was one of the worst adults in the school, known for her delight in sadistic torture. He couldn't believe he had to be in detention with her. And, worse, he had to be in detention with her rather than at soccer practice. 

The fact that he would be missing practice was perhaps worse than the detention itself. He would have rather missed anything else, including dinner or free time, than miss practice. 

But he was talking to Dr. Neville, who had made it clear he didn't share Jeff's point of view on anything, and so there was no use arguing. If he pleaded for a different time then he might get pulled out of the team entirely. 

That was the only thing that kept him from whining any more about this; instead he slunk back into the school, mentally wailing about how unfair this was. 

This week was going to suck so bad. 

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean nodded in confirmation a single time, without a hint of amusement on his face. “Yes, with Miss Raines. Right after class.” The psychiatrist knew the reputation that Josie had amongst the student population, and he knew that, while exaggerated, she had earned it more than some other members of the faculty had theirs. Sean didn’t believe that it was appropriate to torment the students, and he had come to their defense in staff meetings on multiple occasions – even the troublemakers like the long-departed Vincent Verax; at the same time, he didn’t think that disciplining them constituted torment in and of itself.

Gardening in itself wasn’t torment; it was turning a negative into a positive by benefiting the entire community during penance for one’s own missteps. The psychiatrist saw the value in that.

Perhaps Jeff would too, by the end of the week.

For now, he walked behind the boy to make sure that he returned to the cafeteria as directed. Then Sean walked across the length of the cafeteria to the interior exit that would lead, eventually, to the offices. He had to make a telephone call before his next appointment, and he wanted to take the time to eat his sandwich before that.