Aaron by J.P. Barnaby Read Free Book Online Page A

mother smiled at him when she noticed that Aaron had cleaned his plate for the first time in six months.
    “
A
ARON, your father and I have been talking,” Michelle said quietly as she and Aaron sat alone at the kitchen table a few days later. Aaron’s head jerked up and he stared at her, his heart thundering in his chest. They’d finally come to it. His mother was sick of taking care of him, and they were going to send him away. He couldn’t take that. He couldn’t. He’d die there. His mother must have seen something in his face, because she reached for one of his hands, which he jerked under the table, banging his fingers on the edge in his haste to get away from her. The kitchen closed in around him as he rocked almost imperceptibly in his chair.
    “Please, honey, it’s okay. We just think maybe you should start thinking about college.” She pulled her hand back slowly, the sting of rejection still in her eyes as she watched him.
    College? The antianxiety meds were making him feel a little slow. Wait, if they wanted him to start thinking about college, maybe they were giving him another chance. Aaron studied his mother and saw no real signs of deception. She didn’t avoid his eyes, she wasn’t wringing her hands, she had none of the outward indicators that he’d practiced watching for during debate.
    “Okay,” he replied, without even a moment’s hesitation. If his parents were giving him another chance to stay in their lives, he’d grab onto it with both hands. If college would make them happy, he’d at least give it a shot rather than ending up in a completely different kind of institution.
    “Okay? Just like that?” she asked, and her tone turned a bit wary, like she was waiting for the catch, the punch line of his joke. Her face softened when he nodded.
“I could try something like that University of Phoenix and just take online classes.”
    “I’m not sure that’s something you want to do. Degrees like that are pointless because employers discount them. Maybe you could look into that extension of ITM over in Donner,” she countered, and Aaron could hear the determination in her voice.
    “Any degree is going to be pointless, Mom.” The fight had gone out of his voice, but so had any hope. Aaron wanted to argue, wanted to remind her about the panic attacks he got just by leaving the house. He wanted to question her about how he was supposed to function in a classroom full of people, or hold down any kind of job. He wanted to explain to her how useless he was as a person, but the words died in his throat. None of his well-reasoned arguments would be anything new to her. She knew them all, and she could use every one of them against him as a reason to send him away. So instead, he said nothing. He’d figure out how to survive in a classroom with a hundred other people, staring at him, judging him, making him feel worthless.
    With one sharp nod, he accepted his fate, rose and trudged up the familiar path to his room. Nothing would be gained by putting off the inevitable. Rather than simply lying on the bed listening to music like he did most days, Aaron grabbed his rarely used laptop from the desk and balanced it on his lap as he sat back against the headboard. The website for ITM, Institute for Technology and Manufacturing, had a wealth of information in a clean, well-managed, and organized page. It was the only type of school in the area that would be considered a trade school or junior college. Two years ago, before his life ended, Aaron was looking at schools like Stanford or UCLA, but those dreams were gone.
    Clicking on Programs , he looked through the offerings to see what his options were. Information Technology had the largest list, with degrees in networking, programming, security, forensics, and a host of other geeky proclivities. Also listed were degrees in business, electronics technology, drafting and design, criminal justice, and apparently to round things out, health services.