A Tale of Three Brothers (Completed)

Trisha Takes Charge

Brock was suspended for a week after hitting Martha. When he came back he was angrier than he had been before, and his attacks on Sam grew more violent and more frequent. Sam could no longer hide his injuries, and he began telling people he was preparing to try out for the football team. Elliot and Dylan were suspicious, of course, but only Lara and Martha knew the truth.

The day before Halloween, Brock found Sam alone in the bathroom. Sam didn't see the attack coming, but it was one of the worst ones so far. Afterwards, Sam laid on the bathroom floor bleeding. He couldn't feel his left arm and he was sure he'd twisted his ankle. Unable to move, he had no choice but to call Elliot.

If there was one thing people could say about the Tavert brothers, it was that no matter where they were, what they were doing or who they were with, they would drop everything for one another.

Elliot was there in minutes. The expression on his face told Sam it was bad. "Brock did this, didn't he?" Elliot said.

"Just help me up, will you?" Sam said. "I can't feel my shoulder."

Elliot helped him to his feet. "Sam, this is getting stupid. I played along because I thought you had it handled, but it's clear this is getting out of control."

Sam said nothing. He was embarrassed that he had to call Elliot, but even more embarrassed because Elliot was right. He'd lost control of the situation.

Trisha was at home practicing yoga when the boy's school called. "No, their dad's not home," she said into the phone. "I'm their... step-mother. You can talk to me." Trisha listened as the woman on the phone explained that Sam had been hurt in a fight at school and needed to be picked up right away. Even before she was off the phone with the school, she'd already grabbed her keys and was slipping on a pair of shoes.

The front office resembled more of a waiting room when she arrived. Elliot, Dylan and Martha were seated in the hall. "I didn't know who else to call," Elliot said when he saw her.

"It's fine," Trisha said. "Tell me what happened."

The boys often gave Trisha a hard time, but the truth was that she'd come to care about them. Elliot was cool and intelligent, but he worried about his brothers. Dylan was quiet and always contemplative, but definitely not slow. And Sam was a hothead, but he was dealing with a lot for his age.

When Trisha walked in, Sam was lying on the nurse's cot. His left eye was swollen shut, the skin on his cheek had turned purple and he was holding his arm protectively against his chest.

Trisha knew that there were many sides to Sam. She'd seen him cry when he thought nobody was looking; she'd seen how hurt he was every time his father ignored him or skipped an event, but she'd never seen him like this.

Sam was defensive as soon as he saw her. "What are you doing here?"

"Elliot called me," Trisha said. "Let the woman take a look at your arm."

"Don't tell me what to do," Sam said, but even as he spoke he was grimacing from the pain.

"If I can't get him to let me see his arm I'm going to have to call for an ambulance," the nurse said. "That's school policy."

Trisha set her purse down in one of the empty chairs and knelt down next to Sam. Honey, I know it hurts, but you'll like it even less if I have to take you to the hospital."

"It really hurts," Sam said.

In that moment, Trisha stopped seeing him as the arch nemesis he'd painted himself to be, and she saw him for what he really was. A frightened little boy who needed help.