All American Boys

24. The Hand of Fatima

"Well Emily says he's blaming you about it," I said.

"Well maybe instead of blaming me because I'm a Jew," she replied. "He should blame his father for being corrupt."

"Is that why he doesn't like you?" I asked.

"You could say that," Shoshana answered.

"That's it?" I questioned, a bit aggravated. "Just because you're Jewish?"

Shoshana only smiled.

"It's more common than you think," she answered.

As I ate lunch with Cyril and Shoshana, I had a plan brewing. I had second thoughts about it at first, but seeing how this would only serve to help Isaac in the end, I decided to go for it.

Isaac was in a cell. And even if the doors were unlocked and all the windows were opened he would still sit in it and refuse to leave. Even now, with the option to move in with Hayden at the army base, Isaac still chose to stay with his father.

There was only one way I could save Isaac from himself. If not me, then who? And I was willing to do whatever it took.

"Cyril," I asked my boyfriend. "Is there any football practice today?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Why? You wanna come watch?"

"No, no," I answered. "I'm just asking."

I tried my best to hide my smile.

After practice I waited outside the locker room, making sure I hid behind a wall when Cyril passed. He was one of the first few people to leave the lockers anyway, so with him gone, my plan could be set into action.

A few moments later, he appeared. His blonde hair still damp, he trudged down the empty hallway alone.

"Aaron!" I called up to him as I approached him from behind.

He turned around and looked at me, his eyebrow arched. I suppose he must be surprised. Sure, we knew each other and sat on the same table but I've never actually really talked to him before. We didn't really have anything in common, so I guess it was natural. Also, I always felt like he was generally a dick. But then again, he had nothing against me.

"Oh," the young man said, shrugging. "Cyril left a few moments ago, if that's what you were going to ask."

"Oh no, no," I replied, shaking my head. "I came here to talk to you."

"Well," Aaron shrugged, obviously a little confused but also rather disinterested in actually talking to me. "What's up?"

I looked around, making sure there wasn't anybody to hear us. When the coast was clear, I finally spoke.

"I understand we may have similar interests," I began. "And I think it would be very beneficial if we helped each other out."

The young man raised an eyebrow at me as he folded his arms.

"Interesting," he said, in a low hushed voice. "But, what similar interests exactly are we talking about."

"Oh," I replied. "I'm pretty sure you'd very much enjoy seeing Richard suffer. Richard Anderson."

Aaron only scoffed.

"You bet I do," he said.

"Richard's always pretending to be such a good, perfect father," I said, adding fuel to the flame. "Wouldn't it be nice to give that hypocrite a taste of his own medicine? He always thinks that he's such a great man, but what if he realises that all this while he was nothing but a failure?"