said, looking at his little brother standing in the middle of the room. There were worlds between the two brothers. “You’re not a cop yet, even if you think like one.”
“Dad’s right,” Sean said quietly. He had lost all respect for his brother, and hated what he was doing to their parents. Their mother had been crying for two days, and their father had cried when he told her what had happened. They felt defeated and didn’t know what to do to stop him. “You’re going to wind up in prison.” He had seen the scenario a thousand times on the TV shows he watched.
“No, little wimp, I’ll probably wind up on probation. This isn’t the big deal they make it out to be. It’s just marijuana, for chrissake, not crystal meth or crack. Just a little weed.” But not so little—he had had a considerable amount on him and in his car when he ran a red light and they suspected him of being under the influence.
“It’s illegal,” Sean said, still standing there and watching him. Kevin looked perfectly relaxed, stretched out on his bed. He had been so stoned when they arrested him that he hardly remembered the night in jail, and had slept like a baby. “Maybe next time it will be crack, or crystal meth, or mushrooms or LSD, or some of the other crap you do with your friends.”
“What do you know about what I do with my friends?” Kevin asked angrily. His brother was turning into a narc.
“I hear things.”
“You’re just a baby, Sean. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, I do. And so do you. I swear, I’ll kick your ass when I’m older if you do this to them again,” Sean said. He was trembling with rage, and his older brother just laughed at him and pointed to the door of his room.
“I’m shaking in my shoes, little guy. Now get your ass out of my room before I kick yours.” He was like someone who had come from another world, another family. He was a stranger in their midst and always had been. Kevin would always find a way to do what he wanted. He always had, no matter what the consequences to him and everyone else.
Sean left his room quietly, and for the next two days his parents met with counselors and lawyers. They had found a drug rehab in Arizona that would take him, and the lawyer was going to make a presentation to the judge asking if Kevin could plead to a lesser charge and be sent to rehab as probation with no jail time. It wasn’t a sure thing, and the day before they went to court, his father made him cut his hair and shave his beard. Kevin objected, but he had no choice in the matter. His father handed him a suit and told him to wear it. Mike’s eyes were smoldering when he did.
“I don’t want you doing this to your mother ever again,” he said through clenched teeth, barely able to control his temper, and Kevin nodded. Mike handed him a shirt and tie to go with it, and a pair of his own dress shoes since they wore the same size and he didn’t want to go downtown with him to buy new ones. For two weeks, Kevin had hung around the house, and they wouldn’t let him go anywhere. He didn’t like the plan they had in mind, but it sounded better even to him than four years in jail, if they threw the book at him.
The ride to Santa Cruz was long and silent. It took nearly three hours to get there in traffic from San Francisco, and they had agreed to meet their lawyer outside the courtroom. They had an official letter from the rehab in Arizona, accepting him, and it was becoming more real to him as they walked into the courthouse. Kevin looked scared, though not as much as his parents. They had dropped off Sean to stay with Billy, and Marilyn was going to take both boys to baseball practice that afternoon.
The judge listened to what the O’Haras’ attorney was suggesting, and made no comment as he looked over the letter he handed him, with the description of the rehab and what it offered.
“You’re a very lucky young man,” he said to Kevin after he read