#asher writes stuff

Dilly stuck her tongue out at him. "No. Ghost can drive it."

"I don't even know how to drive, Dilly," Ghost said with an amused smile.

"So? You're the oldest! You can figure it out."

"What about you, Rusty?"

Rusty didn't look up, intently focused on a thumb war with Charlie. "What was the question again?"

"What would you wish for, if you had a freebie?" Jasper repeated.

"What, like a coupon?"

Jasper shoved his shoulder, and Charlie pinned his thumb with a cheer. "No, stupid, like a free wish. For anything at all."

"I dunno. A hundred kickass sandwiches, or somethin'."

"Wouldn't they get spoiled?" Charlie pointed out.

Rusty shrugged. "Okay, then a fridge full of kickass sandwiches."

"Hide it behind Tino's, I'll guard it day and night," Scout said, striking a ready-for-action pose.

Crow laughed, playfully whapping him on the back of the head. "Cut the shit, you'd eat 'em all in a second."

"I would never!" Scout said, looking very shocked and offended. "I'm the most trustworthy guy from here to Harlem!"

"Well," Crow continued, batting Scout away as he pretended to fight them, "I would wish for an electric violin and a lifetime supply of rosin."

"Hey, that's two things!" Dilly piped in. "You only get one wish!"

"Why does Rusty get sandwiches and a fridge, but I can't have rosin for my violin?"

"'Cause the sandwiches are inside the fridge," Rusty said. "It's different."

"That don't make no sense, but fine," they said. "I'll just take the violin. Rosin's easier to steal. What would you wish for, Jasper?"

"Yeah, it was your question in the first place!"

Jasper shrugged and looked over the bridge at the darkened water. "Don't really know what I'd pick. That's why I asked you knuckleheads."

"I know what I would wish," Bugs said. Everyone else turned to look at them - they weren't usually much of a talker. "I'd wish that my dad didn't ditch me on the el train."

The atmosphere on the bridge turned somber. Dilly stopped turning somersaults, Rusty and Charlie abandoned their arm wrestling match, and even Scout didn't crack a joke.

"Yeah," Dilly said, halfheartedly scuffing her shoe against the ground. "Guess I wouldn't want a dumb bus if I could wish that Mom was still alive."

Scout toyed with his jacket sleeve. "Yeah."

He looked down. One of the sleeves was half hanging off his jacket, split open right at the shoulder. "I dunno. It just ripped."

"It just ripped?" Momma repeated in disbelief. "Nothing just rips, you must have done something to rip it."

As Razi thought back, he vaguely recalled snagging his jacket while he was chasing Rico Mancini around the park. He'd felt the jolt of resistance and heard the subsequent tear, but he didn't think to check what had happened. "Got caught on the fence by the ball court. I didn't mean to."

Momma sighed, shook her head, and went back to folding. "I know you never mean to, but somehow you do this every week, twice or more. You are destroying your clothes quicker than I can mend them!"

"Sorry, Momma," he mumbled, hanging his head.

"Don't fret, now," she answered, pausing in her work to smooth his hair. "Before bedtime I will show you how to fix it for yourself. You're getting big enough to have a chore to do."

By dinnertime, Razi had already forgotten about it - but of course, Momma didn't forget. Once Razi was in his pajamas with his braids combed out, she brought her sewing basket to the kitchen table.

"First you must thread the needle," she said, picking out a spool of red thread that matched the ripped jacket. "The end is right here in this little heretz." She pointed to the end of the thread, stuck in a notch at the top of the spool. "Hold the spool like this, and stretch your arms out as far as they will go. That is how long your thread will be."

Razi did as he was told. "Now what?"

"Now I cut the thread for you. Next time you will try the cutting yourself." Momma snipped the thread, precise and effortless. "There you go. Take care you don't lose it."

She selected a needle for him, helped him push the thread through the hole - "It's called the eye, ahuva," - and walked him through tying the knot.

"Why's all this stuff takin' so long?" Razi complained at one point, after dropping and retrieving the needle for a third time.

"Because you're learning," Momma told him.

Finally, the needle was threaded - but they still weren't ready to start sewing. "First, you need to take out the loose stitches. I will hold your needle while you use the seam ripper."

Razi took the implement with wide eyes. "It looks like a harpoon!" he exclaimed, turning it back and forth.

"It's for pulling out stitches, not for poking." Her tone turned sharp, and Razi stopped stabbing at the air with a guilty look. "You hear me? If you are not safe you will not use it."

"Yes, Momma."

"Good girl. Now turn the jacket inside out. You always work on the inside. I will show you where to begin and end." She marked along the seam with a pen and demonstrated once with the seam ripper before letting Razi do the rest.

He thought surely that must be the last step before sewing, but he was wrong.

"Not quite yet," Momma said when he asked. "We need to tie the loose ends. I can do it for you this time."

Razi slumped forward on the table and blew his bangs out of his eyes with a huff. "Why couldn't I just start fixin' it without doin' all this stuff?"

"Because," she answered without looking away from the jacket, "it's important to do things right. There is no point in mending something halfway; it will just need to be mended again. When you complete every step, you make the clothes almost like new again."

"Oh." Razi didn't really understand, but he had a feeling that if he ever tried to skip a step Momma would somehow know. She was clever that way.

"Okay." Momma set the jacket down in front of him. "Watch carefully. I push the needle through, and then again to the other side. Are you watching? Now you try." She handed him the needle, and Razi copied what she'd done. "Kol hakavod. Do you see the space there, where there is no thread?"

"Uh-huh."

"Send the needle back to fill the space. Yes, just like that. This is a backstitch, and it's very strong. Good for mending seams."

It was slow work: too slow for Razi's taste. Five or six times, Momma reminded him not to rush. Once, he ran out of thread and they had to go through the whole process with the needle again. But finally, he had sewn up the rip in the seam.

Momma tied off the end and turned the jacket right side out. "There, see? Just like new."

Razi admired his handiwork, tugging experimentally on the sleeve. The fabric stayed in place. "I did it," he said, awed.

"Yes, you did. And you can do it again next time, too. Keeping your clothes nice is your job now."

"Can you show me more sewin' stuff?" Razi asked eagerly.

"Yes, but not tonight, hamuda. Time for bed." She hustled him down the hallway to the bedroom.

"When I get big," Razi said as he climbed into bed, "I'm gonna make all my clothes myself 'stead of buyin' 'em."

"I'm sure they will be wonderful." Momma tucked him in and kissed his forehead. "Chalomot paz, Razi."

Lucky for him, being a juvenile offender meant that he got to board the plane before everybody else. He had just gotten settled in his seat when Harding pulled out a pair of handcuffs. As he fastened one cuff to the seat, Scout broke his drowsy silence. 

"You gotta be kiddin' me." 

"Rules are rules," Harding said, putting the other cuff on Scout's wrist. "And you're a runner." 

"The hell am I gonna run to? The fuckin' clouds?" Harding didn't dignify that with an answer. Scout slumped in his seat as well as he could with the stupid handcuff on. "This is bullshit. Got me chained to my seat like some kinda -" 

"Criminal?" Harding filled in, raising his eyebrows. 

He rolled his eyes and turned towards the window. Fat chance he had of getting any sleep now. 

-

Scout shouldn't have underestimated his ability to sleep almost anywhere. He fell asleep shortly after takeoff and must have been out for at least a couple hours, because as he blinked awake he realized with a jolt that his thumb was in his mouth. He pulled it out lightning-quick and glanced sideways to see if Harding had seen. 

The probation officer was looking at a book without moving his eyes, which told Scout that he had definitely been watching up until a moment ago. Scout's face burned as he subtly wiped his thumb on his jacket. 

He cleared his throat, and Harding pretended to notice him. "This plane got a bathroom?" 

Of course, he wasn't allowed to go by himself. In fact, when he tried to shut the door, Harding stopped it with a hand. 

Scout stared in disbelief. "Hey, do you mind?" 

Harding didn't remove his hand. "I'll close it most of the way, but you're not locking it." 

Scout let out an annoyed huff. "Yeah, 'cause I'm gonna get into so much trouble in a two-by-three john," he grumbled. 

As soon as he was back in his seat, it was back on with the handcuff. Harding tightened it until it bit into Scout's skin, and then stopped a passing flight attendant. 

"Could you sit with him while I step away for a minute?" he asked her, in a low tone that Scout still overheard. "He's not dangerous, he just needs supervision. Just for a minute." 

The flight attendant blinked in surprise. She was young, and kind of pretty - at least compared to the lady who'd been by at the beginning of the flight. "Oh! Um..." She shot a wary glance in Scout's direction, but nonetheless answered, "Of course, sir." 

Scout waited until Harding was out of sight before he said, "Y'know, he's lyin'. Accordin' to the state of New York I'm a violent offender." 

She didn't look too pleased about that, although it didn't seem to have the shock value Scout had been hoping for. "Is that so?" 

"Uh-huh. Busted into a store, had a knife.'' When he still didn't get a reaction, he dropped the tough-guy act and admitted, "I wasn't gonna do nothin' with it, I just had it. When you're a kid on the street you gotta have somethin' to deal with creeps." 

Her expression softened at those words. "Oh. And why were you... busting into a store?" 

"For food. Gotta eat, y'know? Just enough for 'til some cash turned up." Her face shifted from sympathetic to downright pitying. Ugh. Scout quickly switched tracks. 

"Anyway, that guy with me, Harding? He's a real piece of work. Acts like I'm gonna weasel out the window when he ain't lookin'!" That got a smile, and Scout grinned in return. "Yeah, just a real hardass. Wouldn't even lemme ask for more pretzels," he invented. 

He could see the thought forming in her head: 'I better get this poor kid some snacks'. Hell yeah. 

Harding was coming back down the aisle. "Thank you," he said to the flight attendant as he sat. "I hope he didn't give you any trouble." 

"Who, me?" Scout piped in. "Why would I give trouble to such a nice lady?" He pulled his sweetest, most charming smile. 

Harding looked unimpressed, but the flight attendant smiled back fondly. "He was fine." 

"Good. Thanks again." 

"Of course! Enjoy the rest of the flight." 

"You too," Scout called as she walked away. Harding was still watching him suspiciously. "What? You heard her, I didn't do nothin'!" 

"Hmmm." He didn't seem convinced, but he turned his attention back to his book. 

When the pretty flight attendant returned later with two bags of crackers and a tiny chocolate bar, Scout made sure to look innocent. 

-

"How long do we gotta drive for?" 

"A long time," Harding answered, not looking away from the road. 

Scout sighed and crossed his arms. It already felt like he'd been in the car forever. "Why didn't we get off at a closer airport?" 

"That was the closest airport. There aren't a lot of them out here." 

"That's dumb." He looked out the window at the monotonous view of trees, his leg bouncing incessantly. "So after we get there you gotta go all the way back, huh?" 

"Yes." 

Scout grinned. "Damn. Some weekend." He chewed his nails for a bit and then reached for the radio dial, skipping through the stations until he found something fast and percussive. He turned the volume up, looked over to gauge Harding's reaction, and then turned it up some more. 

Harding endured two and a half songs' worth of Scout drumming his fingers against the dashboard before he shut the radio off. "Hey!" Scout protested. 

"You're giving me a headache." 

"Well, I'm bored!" he complained. "I been sittin' and doin' nothin' all goddamn day, why can't I listen to some music while I'm trapped in here?" 

"Because I'm trapped in here, too," Harding muttered. Scout huffed. "Why don't you sleep some more, if you're so bored?" 

"Not tired." He wouldn't have slept even if he was tired. He wasn't about to risk sucking his thumb in front of Harding twice in the same day. 

"Then read the car manual." 

"Ha-ha, good one." 

"You could learn something useful," Harding said, as if he was serious about it. "Impress the other kids." 

"I don't like readin'." 

"Is that why you refused to go to class at the detention center?" 

They told him about that? Scout shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "No," he lied. "Just didn't feel like goin'." 

Harding was silent. Scout was sure he didn't believe him. Finally he said, "Well, you can't skip classes at the new school. If I hear you've been misbehaving then I'll have to report it." 

"Yeah, yeah. I get it." He chewed his nails some more. "Hey, you got any gum?" 

Harding frowned. "Gum?" 

"Y'know, the stuff you chew? Comes in lots of flavors?" 

"No, I don't have any gum." 

"Well, can we stop and get some?" Harding almost laughed at that. "C'mon, I'm goin' crazy! I'm gonna bite all my nails off!" 

"You don't need gum." 

"Sure I do," Scout said earnestly, quickly concocting a story. "I just quit cigs and I gotta have gum to scratch the itch." 

"Oh, really?" Harding didn't sound the least bit convinced. 

"Yeah, really. Been smokin' since I was seven, just gave it up a few weeks back. If I don't have gum I'll start again." 

"You didn't have gum at the center," Harding pointed out. 

"Yeah, an' wouldn't you know it, I been dyin' for a smoke. You don't want me to start smokin' again, do you?" 

"I'm pretty sure students aren't allowed to have cigarettes on school grounds." 

"Well, ain't you s'posed to make sure I'm bein' a good kid or whatever? If you get me some gum, it'll be easier to follow the rules!" 

Harding sighed. "We're not stopping for gum." 

It was too late for assertions like that. Scout had a mission now, and he was an expert at being annoying. He complained and argued and whined until - after nearly an hour - Harding stopped at a gas station. 

"Hey, long as we're here, why don't you get me some gum?" Scout asked as they pulled up to the pump. "Please?" 

Harding didn't answer - he'd long since stopped acknowledging Scout's repeated request. He took out the handcuffs again. This time Scout was stuck with his arm hanging awkwardly above his head, with the other cuff around the passenger seat grab handle. 

"This sucks," he said. Harding slammed the door shut. 

After he filled the tank, he went into the gas station. Had Scout actually irritated him to the breaking point? He didn't want to get his hopes up - but when Harding got back in the car, he tossed a little green package onto Scout's lap. 

Scout all but cheered. "Aw, thanks!" 

"Don't mention it," Harding said flatly, reaching over to unlock the handcuffs. 

As they got back on the road, Scout unwrapped a stick of gum. He chewed silently for a few minutes, and then announced, "This gum is terrible."