Chapter 9 Shape Their Minds, Gild Their Hearts
Shape Their Minds, Gild Their Hearts
Knox
“Thanks, Dan. Just write it down, will you?”
“As always, Knox,” the beefy owner of the ski hut replies.
I’ve known him forever. We went to high school together.
He was one year ahead of me, a pimply teenager with braces and arms like french fries.
After graduating, he went abroad for a year, and when he came back no one recognized him anymore.
His thin body had turned into a machine, and artworks in dark ink marked his torso.
A few years ago, he got the idea of opening his bar slash café slash fast-food joint right on the slope.
And stumbled upon a goldmine. Business is booming.
The tourists love, above all, his wine punch with rum, but I usually come over during a break to get one of his energy teas.
Like now. It’s his own recipe, and holy shit is it strong. Coffee ain’t got nothing on it.
“Knox, everything good with the boys?” Sarah, one of the aides, asks as I order my energy tea. She’s sitting in a corner of the hut, sipping her coffee while keeping an eye on the kids. Sarah has been working at the Westons for years and has a knack for defusing tricky situations with a smile.
“So far, so good,” I reply, but right then…
“Knox!” A kid with a blond Justin Bieber cut bursts in, winds his way through the tables, and runs across the rustic-style floor to me.
It’s Gideon. He almost knocked a chair into the fireplace as he carelessly pushed it aside.
Sarah gets up from her seat and follows him.
“What’s going on, Gideon?” she asks, her tone calm and steady.
“Trevor stole my snowboard!” Gideon blurts out, his voice shaky.
It’s hard for me not to roll my eyes. Trevor.
That little toad. I can’t leave the group alone for two minutes before he starts screwing up.
As always, I wonder why I offered to spend time with the boys from the Westons.
And, like always, I come to the conclusion that I enjoy it.
The Westons is a home for troubled boys, and working with them gives me the chance to apply what I’ve learned from my readings in psychology and, hopefully, to have a little effect on them.
God, how much I’d love to accept the offer to join the psychology program.
Sarah glances at me, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. “Do you want me to stay with the others?”
“Yes, please,” I say. “I’ll deal with this.”
After Sarah heads back to the half-pipe where the rest of the boys are practicing, I bend down in front of Gideon, careful not to spill my energy tea.
“Why did he steal it from you, Gideon?” Gideon has trouble looking people directly in the eye.
It unnerves him, and that’s due to his low self-esteem.
“No idea,” he says, takes a breath, and throws his arms into the air.
“I did the jump you showed us. Then Steve hit me with a snowball and…”
“Gideon,” I interrupt. “Look at me when you’re talking to me, okay?”
His eyes continue to focus on the floor. He purses his lips.
I place my hands on his shoulders. “You got this. We’re on the same wavelength, got it? I’m not better than you. We’re of equal value, you and I.”
Gideon slowly raises his head. It seems as if it costs him, but he finally looks at me.
“Right on,” I say. “So, Steve hit you with a snowball. And then?”
“I got out of my bindings, so I could run after him. And that’s when Trevor stole my snowboard!”
Before I can respond to Gideon, Paul, the second aide I brought along today, shows up. “What’s going on, boys?” he asks calmly, studying Gideon with a careful gaze. Paul is known for his ability to calm the boys quickly, but this time he looks at me, waiting for an explanation.
“Trevor stole Gideon’s board,” I say curtly.
“Got it,” Paul replies. “Knox, you handle Gideon, I’ll deal with Trevor.”
“Thanks.” I think for a moment. “Did you pull off the jump I showed you all? Before undoing your bindings, I mean?”
When Gideon nods, it all becomes clear: Trevor can’t take it when others are better than he is. He’s got a good heart, but as soon as he gets the feeling that he’s not as good as someone else, he turns aggressive. By punching down, he feels superior and, as a result, better. A vicious circle.
I pat Gideon on the shoulder. “Right, let’s go. We’ll straighten this out.”
Gideon’s smile widens. “Like real men?”
“Like real men,” I confirm, open the door, and step onto the slope. “Which means talking reasonably with one another.”
His expression suggests that he had been thinking of something else. Which makes sense, it’s all he knows. The thought stings.
Sarah is already back near the half-pipe, keeping an eye on the other boys. I nod in her direction, and she waves me off, silently letting me know she’s got things under control.
The boys are hanging around the half-pipe, which I reserved for them for two hours. Two of them are practicing the jump I’d showed them before I went into the ski hut. Three of the others are having a snowball fight, and Trevor is nowhere to be seen.
I sigh. “Stay with the others, Gideon. I’ll go find him.”
“Trevor!” I call, throwing a glance at Sarah, who’s talking to two of the other boys.
She gives me a quick nod, as if to say, I’ll hold the fort, go find him.
It’s not the first time that Trevor has taken off.
In fact, it’s his usual. Nevertheless, it burns me up every single time.
The kid’s just turned thirteen but manages to piss me off more than my biggest competitor, Jason Hawk.
I stomp past the half-pipe and look around. The slope is full of tourists in colorful outfits rushing past on skis or snowboards. From all directions come excited and happy shouts. With Trevor, every time it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.
“Knox,” I suddenly hear a voice behind me. Turning around I see the new girl who doesn’t want to tell me her name.
She still hasn’t put on any ski pants. Like the last time I saw her on the slope, the snow has wet her jeans all the way up above her ankles.
Her eyes generate a warm feeling in me that chases off any thoughts of Trevor.
For a few seconds at least. She smiles at me, and I have to think of the flowery scent she gave off last night at the movies, how I drank it in the whole time, afraid it might disappear at any moment.
The effect she has on me puts me in panic mode.
Pull yourself together, Knox. She’s a figure skater and therefore off-limits.
“Hey,” I say crisply, turn, and continue my search for the little five-foot-two menace with dark hair.
I hear her take a few steps through the snow toward me. “What are you doing here?” she asks. “Aren’t you training?”
“I’ve got Thursday afternoons free.”
Damn, where is the little shit?
“Oh, I see.” Her profile creeps into my field of vision. She scratches her cheek. Red stripes on white skin. “We got off early cause our trainers have some kind of meeting or other. I’m meeting Gwen, Levi, and Aaron in the ski hut.” She pauses. “Come with me.”
I almost laugh out loud. Aside from the fact that Gwen, Levi, and Aaron would definitely not want to share a table with me and engage in small talk, the idea that I would spend my time with a group of iSkate kids is just absurd.
The movie last night alone was a mistake.
I shouldn’t have followed her after seeing her with William. That much went against my principles.
“I’ve got things to do,” I answer gruffly.
“Oh. Okay.” I had expected her to be a bit disappointed. But the tone in her voice sounds anything but. She even seems a little relieved. “Are you looking for someone?”
“Yeah. A kid who at this moment is probably setting someone’s pants on fire or stealing a bottle of booze from the ski hut.”
She laughs. “That’s a joke, right?”
“Sadly, no.”
“Umm. Okay. Should I maybe…”
“Trevor!” I leave the girl standing and take off after the boy who with his Rumpelstiltskin-like laugh is running away from me. Hard to believe. Does the little jerk think he’s going to be quicker than a six-one-and-a-half snowboarder?
I catch hold of the little spawn of Satan by the collar of his jacket.
At first, he tries to escape but when he realizes he doesn’t stand a chance, he settles down.
He turns to face me while hiding a hand behind his back.
A second later I see a cigarette hit the ground, which he tries to bury beneath the snow with his boot.
I grind my teeth and let out an annoyed growl. “You really think I’m an idiot, don’t you?”
Trevor shrugs and grins. “A bit.”
Man oh man, this kid. Growing within me is the burning desire to already have started studying and to know how to deal with him.
For the moment, though, my amateur-level knowledge will have to suffice.
Trevor wants attention, nothing more. He wants to be seen.
Listened to. It’s almost a cry for help.
Hello, here I am. Come and give me the feeling that I’m not worthless.
I sigh. “Listen, Trevor.” My voice is calm, although I’m actually ready to scream.
In order to be eye-to-eye with him, I bend down a little.
It’s important to make him feel comfortable.
“Let a star snowboarder who’s been to a looot of parties and seen a few things tell you something: cigarettes aren’t cool.
In the same way that drugs aren’t cool. Or alcohol.
You’re cool when you’ve got yourself under control.
Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. ”
Trevor frowns. “You get smashed all the time. We don’t hear anything else about you.”
“And that’s precisely why I know what I’m talking about. Believe me when I tell you that it’s not cool.”
“Then you’re not cool either when you do that kind of stuff.” His voice sounds accusatory, and I’m proud of him. He’s got to learn to say his opinion and say when he doesn’t find something right.