Justice Over Innocence: A Road to Redemption

By Nikki McCavenna-King

The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Chester Azzaro was blamed for a murder he never committed. He was tried for actions he never took. He was imprisoned for crimes he was not guilty of. He found himself alone. Midnight fell. He descended into a personal hell. Memory loss couldn't keep him down. He was a fighter in more ways than one. Personal loss shaped him but couldn't define him. He chose who he wanted to be. Anger couldn't drown him. He fought past it. Despair sometimes clawed at him, but hope shined through the night.

He struggled to find his place at home. He couldn't find home. The enemies of the past are stirring again. Old friends and new friends have risen up, but will they hold when the storm blows through? Who is Waverly? What do these enemies want? Why are they attacking again? Chester finds himself in trouble with the law again for crimes he didn't commit. Will Chester ever find his redemption? Just how long is that road of redemption?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9781638812340

Book preview

Chapter 1

Brett Chester Lawrence Geoffrey Bruce Azzaro looked at the ground silently. He was waiting for his family to pick him up. They were late. He was finally leaving the juvenile detention center for something other than a trial or a weeklong punishment trip to a farm. He’d been in jail for twenty months, nearly two years’ worth of time. He was there for something he didn’t do. For a murder he didn’t commit. He would never admit to committing the murder either. He’d stand and say that he didn’t do it until he was eighteen. Once he was eighteen, he was going to flee to New York City and go to Alaska. That was his plan.

How you feeling, Larry? His personal guard watched him carefully. He’d never really gone by the name Brett. Everyone has always called him Chester, including his family and friends. In jail, the fellow teenagers had nicknamed him Larry. Chester liked the name.

Chester sighed. Like garbage. An old unwanted shoe.

His personal guard was a thirty-seven-year-old named Gary Deal. Gary Deal was six feet and four inches tall. He was an ex-special forces soldier who served in the Middle East and Korea. He was African American. Chester liked Gary Deal. Gary Deal was the father of two teenagers, three kids, one near teenager, and a newborn baby. He was a good listener and a patient teacher. He’d not forgotten what it was like to be a kid or a teenager. He was the only person that had ever seen Chester cry in nearly eight years. He was the only male that Chester completely trusted with the trust a son has for his father.

The only one.

Gary Deal looked at his young charge. He’d stood guard over Chester ever since that fateful night, close to twenty-one months ago. He knew that Chester was innocent. He could see it. He could see how broken Chester had become. He’d watched Chester learn to control and somewhat master his temper. He’d watched Chester become more serious and mature. He’d watched Chester learn how to pick his battles. He’d watched Chester learn to fight. He’d watched Chester cry when no one else was around. He’d watched that goofy, playful kid enter the juvenile center, grow up, and turn into a man.

If you ever need someone to talk to, you know my number, Gary Deal told him quietly. Chester nodded but didn’t lift his head. He continued to stare at the ground, as if he found it interesting. He hesitated, looked up, and offered the man who’d treated him like a son, a smile.

Can you believe that I was so fat when I walked in here? The first time?

Chester had always been tall. Always. He had one downfall. He loved his food. He used to eat and eat. As a result, he had been fat. Very fat. However, Waverly Juvenile Detention Center had, had plenty of outside activities to do. It was a huge place. There were four large soccer fields, seven basketball courts, five tennis courts, three football fields (college-sized ones), six large swimming pools, three college-sized baseball fields, three two-mile tracks, four one-mile tracks, two six-mile tracks, and one large open field outside. Inside was a huge weight room, a large room full of treadmills and exercise machines that the boys called contraptions, a rink for ice-skating, a rink hockey, and rooms for both poker and table tennis. There were rooms for those that wanted to learn music and instruments. There were rooms to do school in. There were workshop rooms where one worked with electronics, learned to fix things, and learned how to build things.

Anger, rage, and disappointment had reigned in Chester. Those three emotions had nearly strangled him. They’d energized him greatly. So he’d taken to the track. He’d ran there daily. He’d ran there nightly too. He ran the two-mile track, and little by little, he gained strength, endurance, stamina, and speed. He’d dropped weight rapidly too. He didn’t eat much but ran a lot. Within two months, it had become a normal thing for him to do. He ran in the morning, twice after school, and once before bedtime.

Then the boys got him to play basketball. After a week, he’d started playing soccer and baseball. After two weeks, he’d began playing football. He had been very good at the sports games. He’d practiced and practiced. He drove himself to his limits and beyond. He burned his anger, rage, fury, and disappointment by nearly killing himself with exercise. Winter and snow came in January. That was when he discovered weight lifting. Four of the older teenage boys helped him get started on it. Lifting weights became another way of escape. He’d built himself up. He used all the exercise machines regularly too to help him weight lift. He built up his leg muscles, his stomach muscles, his chest muscles, the muscles in his arms, and whatever other muscle that he could build up. He’d even taken a serious aerobics class. He started eating organic fruits and vegetables. He ate his meats. He drank tons of milk and guzzled water. He’d begged for protein shakes and freshly made fruits and/or vegetable smoothies. He’d started eating salads, drinking a bunch of different teas, snacking on snacks like crackers, and abandoning all soda but ginger ale.

He’d started seeing the results almost immediately. His immune system, which had been so weak before, started to strengthen. He started getting colds and sicknesses less and less. His asthma started to clear up. He wasn’t so tired all the time anymore. He had more energy. The exercise and his new diet had been good for him. While he’d been doing all that, he strove to do his very best in his schoolwork and in all that he did. He’d been accused and convicted of the murder because of how lazy he’d been (well, at least, that was one reason). Now he put all his effort into things even if it meant searching through a dictionary or flipping through a thesaurus or walking longer or using up all his paper, etc. He did all he could to give his absolute finest and greatest.

Gary Deal commented on it now as he answered, Looking at you now, no. I can hardly believe that you were fat. Nor can I believe how much of a hard worker you’ve become. At first, you showed no interest in anything. Now you’re the man.

Chester cracked a smile. He stood at six feet six inches. He was muscular all around. He’d retained his thick neck. His body was made up of hulking strong muscles. He was broad-chested. He had broad shoulders. His arms were long and sinewy. His long legs were that of a runner’s but thicker. He was not skinny. He was solid all around. He wasn’t all flab and fat anymore. His new look went well with his gray-blue eyes and dusty-blond hair. His gray-blue eyes had hardened and become cold as he stayed in jail.

His hairstyle changed too. He now sported a spiky kind of style. He was only fourteen. He was a twin. He’d been born on January 22, on a rainy day in Manhattan, New York. He weighed seven pounds. That’s what cut most about the situation. His twin. He and his twin sister had been really, really close. They’d always been close. He’d protected her from bullies as they grew older. Sometimes it seemed like they could read each other’s minds. They’d known each other. At least, Chester thought they had been close. When the whole incident arose, he’d expected her to have his back. She’d shunned him. She’d only come to visit him four times since he’d been locked up. Only four times in twenty months. The last time he’d seen her was fifteen months ago. The last time anyone from his family had visited him was fourteen months ago, and none of his old friends had visited him at all.

The Azzaro family for Larry Azzaro, Gary said. All right, have a safe drive home. Try not to come back, man. We’ll miss you around here, though. Call me if you need me. I’ll be around.

Yes, sir. Chester stood. He lifted his heavy duffel bag onto his shoulder. He followed Gary Deal to the lobby. He’d not seen the place in twenty months. He was finally leaving.

Chester was surprised to find that he felt a tinge of sadness because he was leaving. He didn’t try to shrug the sadness off. His life at the detention center had been simple and somewhat easy. He’d learned a lot during his time here. He’d learned a lot about himself. He’d learned a lot about working with others. He’d learned a lot about the outside world. He’d learned a lot about war. He’d learned a lot about politics. He’d learned a lot about law, federal agencies, and police officers. He’d learned a lot of history. He’d learned a lot about hard work. He’d learned a lot about people. He’d learned a lot about trust.

He’d grown quieter. He wasn’t the talkative person he used to be. He’d become more confident with his abilities. He knew his limits. He’d learn how to physically fight because he’d been in and out of them since he’d arrived, and he’d become well known for his uncanny accuracy in a fight.

He’d changed.

A lot.

A whole lot.

The Azzaro family blinked in shock when he stepped out into the guarded lobby behind Gary Deal. Chester’s cold eyes swept over his family. He saw his mom first. She, Dr. Cassidy Millicent Joyce Rincon-Azzaro, was a surgeon. She’d given Chester his gray-blue eyes, though her own were blue gray. She was five feet and eleven inches tall. She was a widely known surgeon. She looked tired.

Next he saw his oldest sister, whose full name was Saundra Millicent Libby Azzaro. She had blond hair and blue eyes. She was five feet and eight inches tall. She was sixteen. She wanted to be a lawyer like their father.

His eyes swept over his twin. Fourteen-year-old Joyce Justice Violet Azzaro had blond hair and gray eyes. She was two inches shorter than Saundra. She wanted to be a fashion designer.

Then he saw Jeremy Lucas Rincon Azzaro, who was nine. Jeremy had once looked up to Chester. He’d tried to do everything like Chester did. Now the blond-haired green-eyed kid glared at Chester bitterly. Jeremy had decided long ago that he was going to be a lawyer. He had not changed his mind and had no intention of doing so.

Chester’s eyes went to twenty-two-year-old Logan Maurice Donald Azzaro II, who was about to start his first year of law school at the very same law college their father had graduated from. Logan had blond hair and green eyes. He stood at six feet tall. Logan had been a track star and a well-known football star in high school. He’d never skipped school. He’d always gotten straight As. He’d had good friends. He was the model brother. He had always been their father’s favorite. He’d rubbed it into Chester’s face for as long as Chester could remember. Both knew how badly Chester had disappointed their father since Chester had been born.

Chester’s gaze moved on to his youngest sister. She was two years younger than him and Joyce. She had blond hair and gray eyes, like Joyce too. She wanted to be a doctor. She wasn’t sure what kind of doctor she wanted to be, though. She was rather sensible. He could see that she’d grown to love and care about clothes like her older two sisters. He met his father’s stare at long last. Lawyer Logan Maurice Donald Azzaro I, was a proud, proud man who rarely admitted he was wrong. He was a good lawyer. He was blond haired with gray-green eyes. He stood at six feet tall. He was a former football star. He’d been class president three times while in school. He’d been the ideal student. He’d worked hard.

What do you have to say for yourself? his father demanded angrily in a loud tone. "Still claiming you’re innocent?’

Chester said nothing. He looked at the wall behind his father.

Chester Azzaro! His dad’s voice grew soft, and somehow it seemed louder. Chester flicked his gaze over to his father nonchalantly, which only infuriated Lawyer Azzaro more.

I don’t go by Chester anymore. Only if I really have to. I’m called Larry now.

Larry? Logan choked out. That…ridiculous name?

Chester smiled. Fits me, don’t you think? A ridiculous name for a ridiculous son and brother.

You’re not my brother! Jeremy spoke up. His fists were clenched, his face was a bright red, and his eyes flashed. He was angry. You’re nothing but a baby killer! Don’t talk to me! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch anything that belongs to me! Don’t talk to my friends! Don’t touch them! Don’t even look at them or me! Jeremy’s face grew redder. He was shouting now. I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I wish you could just stay in here forever! Since you’re out, I hope something happens to you, and you just die. I hate you! Never speak to me! Never again! I don’t want to hear you speak! Nothing! He got quiet. Then he added coldly, Don’t try to give me or make me anything either. I don’t want it. I don’t want you either. That cut Chester deep. That hurt more than Chester was willing to admit. It took everything in him not to flinch or wince.

Jeremy Lucas, Dr. Rincon-Azzaro began.

Leave him alone, Lawyer Azzaro said. Chester deserves that whether he likes it or not. Let it go.

Chester turned to Gary Deal. He held out his hand and shook the officer’s hardened calloused hand. Thanks, sir. For everything.

You’re welcome. You make my job easy, Larry. Gary Deal gave him a small smile. You’re a good kid. I hope your innocence gets proven.

You hold more hope than I do, Chester said quietly. Are you sure the judge said I could be on probation?

I’m sure, Gary Deal promised.

I can’t stay another year?

Nope, Gary Deal answered. Unless you get in trouble. Don’t try to, though.

I won’t, Chester promised. He sighed. I sure want to. It’s easier being in here.

I’m sure that’s true, Gary Deal agreed. You’d better go.

Chester stepped out the door. He walked the narrow long hallway. He reached its end, pushed the door open, and stepped out into blazing sunshine. He glanced around, hardly believing that at long last, he was finally out and back into the regular world. He half-expected someone to call him back.

How are you doing, Che—Larry? Joyce asked. Her voice had matured, and a gentleness that hadn’t been there before was noticeable when she spoke. He glanced at the ground and shrugged. If she wanted to know, she should’ve visited him. She could’ve at least called him, but she’d done neither.

How’d you lose the weight and get so tall? Saundra asked. He shrugged again.

Can you talk? Logan demanded. There’s no need for you to be so silent. You talked a whole bunch before you came here. Used to annoy me with your chatter. Chester adjusted his duffel bag on his shoulder. He did not reply. He answered how he wanted to answer in his mind. Sometimes he didn’t even do that.

By the way, Saundra spoke up again, we moved last summer.

He didn’t say anything. The guys and the girls had had that happen or had seen it happen to someone else all too often. They’d told him to expect that and worse. Especially since his dad practically hated him. He shrugged a third time. He was scanning the parking lot for his dad’s car and his mom’s SUV. When he couldn’t find either, he quickly deduced that they’d or at least one of them had also gotten a new car. Then he remembered that his brother had a car too. He couldn’t find his brother’s car either.

Cassidy looked at him. It’s the coolest of places too! We live in a big apartment! We got new furniture and stuff too. You’re going to have to choose out your stuff and furniture too. We got rid of everything except for a few of your things. Our place has two stories.

You can put your things in the trunk, Dr. Rincon-Azzaro said to Chester.

Sure enough, they’d approached a brand-new silver Infiniti SUV that hadn’t gotten its license plate yet. Chester gently placed his duffel bag in the trunk. He stepped back and hit what he thought was the trunk button. He frowned and looked closer. He hit the trunk button and the car beeped. The trunk slowly started to close. He stepped back and shoved his hands into his pockets. Lawyer Azzaro climbed into the driver’s seat. The girls climbed into the third row while their mother sat in the passenger seat. With a glare at Chester, Logan slid across the seat on the right to sit in the middle seat in the middle row. Chester climbed in and sat next to him.

Let’s get out of here, Lawyer Azzaro said.

The car ride was silent, tense.

Okay, Dr. Rincon-Azzaro said, turning the music down. Joyce hosts her girls at our place every other Thursday. All the guys stay in their rooms and leave the girls alone, or go someplace else. When the girls spend the night, all the guys have to spend the night elsewhere. When I say guys, I mean Logan, Chester, and Jeremy.

Um-hm. Chester’s response lacked energy.

We have family nights on Friday and Saturday nights now too, his mom continued. It’s mandatory that we attend. The only way to get out of it is by scheduling our plans ahead. Dinner is at five p.m. on regular days and at six p.m. on school nights.

By the way, so you don’t get excited and think that these guys are coming to see you, Logan added, Saundra’s dating Kirk Maiers, Joyce is dating Kyle Schobel, and Cassidy just started going out with a Darius Anders.

Kyle Schobel. Chester gazed out his window silently. His twin had just punched him in the face with that piece of news. Kyle Schobel was a five-foot-nine-inch-tall jock who was of German ancestry. He was brown-haired and blue-eyed with a thick German accent. All he’d ever done was needle Chester about his weight back before the incident. He’d been Chester’s bully and worst enemy. Now his twin was going out with that guy. Yeah, that guy. Kyle Schobel. Chester sighed. Talk about changes at home, he thought wearily.

Chapter 2

Here’s your room, Mrs. Rincon-Azzaro said upon reaching the last door on the right, which was at the end of the wide spacious hallway. She pushed the door open.

Chester stepped in. It was smaller than the guest bedrooms (both of them) and his parents’ and siblings’ bedroom. He glanced around thoughtfully.

It’s not what I’d have given you, his mom began, but your father insisted on giv—

I can put speakers right up there, Chester thought as he scanned the room. I could even put or build my own sound system too. I could—

No, Chester interrupted, shaking his head. No.

No what? Dr. Rincon-Azzaro asked, puzzled.

No, this room is just fine, Chester told her. The beginnings of a smile tugged at his lips. Then he shook his head again. Scratch that. He grinned. This room is perfect.

What is so perfect about it? Joyce asked from behind him. The grin fell off his face. He turned and shrugged. He saw his sisters and father standing in the doorway. His brothers were nowhere to be found. It just is.

Here is the money and the credit card that you can use to buy your furniture. Lawyer Azzaro held out an envelope. And your clothes.

Chester looked at it. He made no move to take it. It’s okay. I don’t need it.

How else are you going to get your things? Lawyer Azzaro asked, raising an eyebrow.

Chester looked at him, looked at the envelope, and decided it was best to keep his course of actions quiet. He shrugged, stepped forward, and took the envelope. Thanks.

That night, he slept on the floor using the three blankets that he had gotten from his juvenile detention center. His mother had offered him sheets and two pillows, but he’d shaken his head no and said, No thanks. I have my own sheets. I’ll be okay.

Now Chester was walking with Edward M. Moore. Edward was five feet nine inches tall. He was fifteen. He was black. The two were great friends. They’d met in their juvenile detention center. Edward had been there for shoplifting. He was a rich kid, nonetheless. He owed Chester a favor.

Edward chuckled. So what are you going to do with the money your dad gave you?

There is a drawer in the kitchen that all such leftover money goes into. When we really need the money, my dad will go in the drawer and count out how much money is in there. The leftover money goes into its envelope, and the envelope goes into the drawer.

What do you mean by really need the money?

If we spend all our monthly allowance, Chester explained. All the money he gives to us to use personally and get what we need will go in that drawer. He’ll take the money from there and split it.

What are you going to do? Edward asked. For money?

You know every summer, kids like us go to work at Sunny Stables, Harry’s Auto Shop, and/or Logan’s Stables. I lined up a job at Sunny Stables and Harry’s Auto Shop. Remember my guard, Gary Deal?

What about him? Edward wanted to know.

"He knows Mr. Evans. That’s the guy who owns Evans Victuals Grill and Bar and Evans Jolly Patch. Well, Gary Deal told him my story, and he agreed to hire me. They used to serve together in the army. Chester shrugged. I start in a week."

Who’s buying your furniture?

An old friend of Chester Blackman who owes me a favor because I didn’t let Chester just take the hit with the drugs thing.

Edward chuckled. I like how you did that. You spun a story that let the other guys end up in jail too with the heavier and worse charges.

Chester laughed. He shrugged. I was already locked up by then. If I spent three extra years in jail, why would it have mattered?

Here we are, Edward said, stopping outside a store. They went in. Ms. Lyons, this is my friend, Larry. He needs new clothes. Can you please measure him and tailor his clothes to fit him?

An older white-haired woman that had silver wire-framed glasses and piercing blue eyes looked at Edward sharply. Is his name really Larry?

It’s Chester, ma’am, Chester responded. My friends call me Larry. It’s that I prefer Larry.

That’s better. So, young man, what do you need?

Chester answered quickly. He wanted to hurry up and get out of the store before someone else came in. Plus Edward told him to get whatever he wanted and how much he wanted. First, I really need dress shirts.

What colors? How many? Ms. Lyons asked.

Twenty-one white shirts, six gray—make that dark-gray—shirts, ten black ones, ten navy, two hunter-green shirts, six burgundy, two orange, three red, seven dark red, ten light blue, five blue, five burnt orange, ten dark blue.

Anything else? Ms. Lyons looked up from writing.

Suits. Twelve black, four brown, five light brown, five tan, twelve navy blue, three light gray, twelve dark gray. Chester paused. I need slacks too. Ten black, five brown, six khakis, six tan, ten navy blue, four dark gray.

How soon do you need them?

As soon as you can finish them, just don’t feel the need to rush, Chester replied. He added respectfully, Ma’am.

Hurry but don’t rush? Ms. Lyons questioned. She was used to this.

The boys bobbed their heads. Yes, ma’am.

Chester was measured promptly. Another thing. Regular pants would be nice too. Six navy blue, ten black, three dark gray, and nine khakis.

After that, they left and went to another clothing store. Chester got thirty white T-shirts, twenty black T-shirts, twelve navy-blue T-shirts, and twelve gray T-shirts tailored to fit him. Then he and Edward went to several tourist shops to buy T-shirts.

Later that day, Chester went to join his school’s football team. He learned three days later, he made the team. At practice two days later, he immediately felt unwelcome. The team liked his skill but disliked him. So when the sun had been in his eyes, one of the boys bumped him hard, which threw him off balance. He tried to catch himself but ended up knocking the other boy over. The boy tried to catch himself and fractured two of his fingers in the process. The coach and some of the team had seen what had happened.

The coach said, One of you has to go. I won’t take this on my team.

I’m not going! the other boy had shouted. I’m not!

I quit, Chester said with a red face. I’m sorry about your fingers. Really sorry.

He stalked away. He picked up his bag and left. The boys and the staff watched him go. He did not look back as he walked away. He did not want to look back. He just bent his head, shoved his hands into his pockets, and walked on.

You’re a shame, he thought to himself. No one believes that you’re innocent. You’re worthless. You’re useless. That’s why your jobs fell through. That’s why Jeremy hates you. That’s why Logan hates you. That’s why you have no friends. That’s why your own twin doesn’t even want to be seen in public with you. You’re trash. You’re a piece of junk. You don’t have anyone in your family who’ll be there for you. You’re garbage, Larry, garbage! Your mom should’ve just miscarried you. His thoughts raced on. He walked faster and faster. He grew angrier and angrier. Nothing was working anymore! Nothing! God, Chester prayed, if I am going to be stuck in this situation forever, then please…let me die. Just let me die. My life’s a mess. My family hates me. My old friends hate me too. My whole school hates me. My life hates me. I hate life. Anger churned in Chester’s stomach. He was bitter, hateful, and angry. He was mad because no one would ever, ever believe him.

Larry!

He turned sharply.

Gary Deal and another man were jogging to him. Gary Deal stopped in front of him. Hey, Larry. How’s it going?

Chester grunted as he shook the man’s hands.

Where are you going? What are you about to do? Gary Deal asked. Mr. Evans has a job offer for you.

I am either going to run away and assume a new identity, or I’m going to kill myself.

What?

I’m joking, Chester said. I’m not wanting to commit suicide. I just…I’d rather someone else kill me now. Maybe I’ll get cancer or get sick and die. My life’s a mess! My whole family hates me. They treat me like garbage. My little brother—sorry…the little dude in our family used to look up to me, you know? Chester’s voice softened. Now he hates me. To him, I’m worse than trash. My name’s the worst curse on earth to his ears. He despises me. He wants me dead.

He shook his head. He looked old suddenly. "I have no friends in this world. This outer world. The only friends I have now are crooked teenagers. I’m worthless, and I’ll probably ruin your business. You don’t want me. Find someone else." He turned and walked away.

He paused and turned back. I’ll always say that I didn’t do it. To say I did would be a lie. He started to walk away. The two friends looked at each other.

Larry, Mr. Evans said calmly, I can tell that you didn’t do it. It’s obvious when you speak of it. Please come and work for me.

Chester started to shake his head. Then he challenged him rather abruptly. Why should I?

Mr. Evans started to smile. I had to fire several of my waiters for the sexual harassment of my waitresses. I need all the hands I can get.

How long’s the job going to be there?

Long time.

When do I start? What is the pay?

You can start on Monday, Mr. Evans said. I pay my waiters twenty-five dollars an hour. If you work well, you’ll be able to transfer over to my Jolly Patch. If you work well there too, then I’ll let you work at both my restaurants. You have to prove that you’re a good honest worker first, though. He paused and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. So, my friend, what do you say?

Chapter 3

School started.

Chester was mocked and bullied, teased and taunted and laughed at. He didn’t try to make friends. He ignored everyone. He sat alone in the corner of the lunchroom or by himself, outside in places no one could see. His sisters’ popularity was always being thrown in his face. His teachers let the students talk bad about him, criticize him, and bully him in their classes. His teachers went hard after all the work that he did and after all his homework. They tried to find anything to pick at to bring his grade down. However, Chester was a very thorough student. He criticized all his papers harshly. He judged them grimly and brutally. He always used the dictionary, an encyclopedia set, and the four thesauruses that he’d bought for when he was writing his papers. He used the encyclopedia and other history books to make sure that his facts were correct for his history class. He used many sources to do his science homework. He checked his work in math.

He went the extra mile for his French class. He took the time to speak to people in French and worked hard on perfecting his French accent. He was in Spanish class too, though he’d grown up speaking Spanish. He put effort into his work. He didn’t relax and fall asleep. He did his work and homework. They grilled him on his facts, his history, his knowledge in science, his Spanish, his French, his knowledge in both Latin and Greek, and his knowledge in math. They questioned his writing and his spelling. Seeing that made Chester study more after school and after work. He asked his teachers for extra credit work.

By the first week of October, Chester’s teachers felt a grudging admiration and reluctant respect for the tall muscular student who was quiet, well behaved, and respectful, though he sat in the back of their class and had no friends. They also admired and respected his schoolwork.

Now Chester was walking into the school. He had to enter through the administrator’s office and see the principal. By now it was an old routine. He only had to do so because of his record. He sighed. Principal Derby was five feet and nine inches tall. He had graying brown hair and warm blue eyes. He’d been the principal of John Waverly’s Middle High Boarding School for sixteen years. The principal looked up at Chester. Okay, you can go now. No trouble please, Chester.

Yes, sir, Chester replied. Like he always did.

He was carrying two big trifold posters, his lunch box, and a model of a house. His book bag was on his back. Nice of him to ask if I needed help, Chester muttered. He started down the hallway at a quick pace and rounded a corner. That’s when he saw her. Her.

She was wearing fitted black jeans. Designer jet-black jeans with the brown stitches. She wore a fitted light-blue polo that stretched tight over her rather large chest, which poked out very noticeably. She wore a light-brown collarless designer leather jacket. Her hair was long. It fell down to her hips. Her eyes were a blue color. Or were they gray? Or were they green? Chester decided they were blue with both gray flecks and green flecks in them. Her slim graceful body curved excellently in all the right places. Her lips, which were shiny from her clear lip gloss, were small, delicious, and naturally red. Her eyes sparked readily. Her eyes were evenly spaced. Her nose was perfect and her chin defined. Her face held no blemish and was radiant. Her light-blond hair gleamed in the light, and her smile was beautiful.

She was truly and extremely gorgeous. Extremely gorgeous. Chester nearly choked, and his heart pounded in his chest. He knew immediately that she was Alexandra Kirgan, the most popular girl in school, who’d been in LA for a few months. He sighed to himself. He could never have her. Never. His past record was way too messed up. Even if it wasn’t, he wasn’t in her league. She was with the popular crowd. He’d never really been in the in crowd. He’d been friends with some of them, but he’d never been in.

Useless fool, Chester muttered of himself to himself.

He bent his head and headed down the hallway. He noticed that a lot of the boys stared at Alexandra as she strutted down the hallway with her head held high. He smirked. He walked down the hallway and out the double doors. He walked into the bright sunshine by himself. Students gave him their usual cold glares as they passed him up. Like usual, none of them fell in step with him or beside him. He ignored them, like he always did.

If it isn’t the fallen Azzaro, a taunting voice interrupted. Chester’s heart sank. His model was bound to be destroyed. He ignored how the captain of the football team pronounced his name as if he was a little boy.

The captain of the football team was five feet and eleven inches tall. He had blond hair and blue eyes. He was fifteen. Not only did he play football, but he played soccer and baseball too. He was an accomplished boxer and was into weight-lifting.

His name was Chase A. Baines.

Chester was once his best friend, but all that had changed. Now Chase was popular. Chase was the most popular boy in the school who was actually cool. Chester surpassed him in popularity but wasn’t cool at all. He was the most hated student on campus. He knew it. The students knew it too, and they didn’t let him forget it. They did all they could to humiliate and embarrass him.

What’s this? Chase demanded.

Chester did not answer.

When are you going to finally answer me?

Chester did not answer him. He did not even look at the other guy.

What’s this? Chase repeated, poking at the model. It shifted slightly. So Chase poked it again.

Chester walked faster, but Chase matched his pace easily. Chase pushed the model hard. The model house, which had taken two weeks to build, flipped off the poster boards with a small crash. Chase laughed. Chester stood there. He just stood there with his mouth clenched tightly closed and a blank expression. He was seething on the inside; he was mad. Really, really mad. Chase bent to pick up the house. He took it apart a little more. Finally he picked it up.

All right, man, you can have it back now.

Chester stared into Chase’s face quietly. He was surprised that Chase was giving it back, but he didn’t say anything.

Chase acted like he was going to pass it back and put it on its designated board. Instead, he opened his hands and let the house drop to the ground.

"No!" Chester cried, unable to stop himself. He dropped to his knees and let the posters fall to one side. Chase watched him with a queer smile on his face. Then the older boy lifted his foot and stomped down hard on the house.

Chase grinned at him and said, Oops, I’m sorry! I hope you’ll be able to fix it. See ya, man. Right, Chester?

Chester picked up the house and the pieces for it. He laid his poster boards flat on the ground and set the small poster, that had been beneath his house model, in the center of the top poster. He set his destroyed model on top of its poster, stood, and started to walk away. He walked faster and with a purpose. He reached Mr. Bernstein’s science room minutes before the bell rang. He paused as he realized that he couldn’t open the door. He stepped back and started to bend down to set his posters down.

Let me get that for you.

Charlotte? Chester turned in surprise.

She gave him a small smile. Hello, Chester. I’m glad you’re back. My brother got into a bunch of trouble once you left.

He nodded. I know.

She leaned around him and opened the door and stepped back. Can’t be seen with you, else my pop—

He nodded a little and went in. Mr. Bernstein, my model got ruined, sir. See it? I have another one at a friend’s house, so I’ll call them before lunch to see if they could bring it.

The teacher nodded. Okay. You can set the model on the windowsill. Lean those posters against the wall there.

Yes, sir.

Chester did as he was told and left the room. He hurried to his writing class and took his seat. The class grew quiet suddenly. Chester looked up and looked back down nonchalantly. Alexandra Kirgan and Charlotte Blackman had entered the room together. They were both dressed similarly. They were both extremely pretty.

Charlotte had brown hair and gray-blue eyes. She was once the most popular girl in school. Alexandra had come along and bumped her back to a close second. The two were best friends. Charlotte’s full name was Charlotte Gwendolyn Blackman. She had a twin brother. He was the very same brother mentioned earlier. Chester L. Blackman had brown hair and blue eyes. He stood at six feet and two inches, while his twin was only five feet and six inches tall.

Chester Blackman, Charlotte, Chase, and Chester had all been close best friends. They’d told one another everything and had fun together. They’d started drifting in middle school, and then all that happened with Chester had taken place. Now Chester was only friends with Chester Blackman.

Alexandra and Charlotte sat in the back now. Alexandra was two seats over from him on his right. Charlotte sat on her right.

I take it that’s Joyce’s twin? Alexandra whispered. Charlotte nodded.

I thought you all said he was fat.

He was, Charlotte explained. I asked my brother about him nearly two months ago. Chess said that Larry—that’s what he calls himself now—was so angry that he wasn’t believed by anyone who knew him that he started exercising like crazy. Then he put himself on a diet. He’s always been tall. Now he has the looks and the body.

Alexandra glanced at Chester. Has he made friends with anybody here? Charlotte gave her a look. I didn’t think so, Alexandra said. I thought he used to talk a streak.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow, and a puzzled frown marred her pretty face. "That’s what bothers me. There was a time when no matter what went wrong, he’d still talk, but now he doesn’t. He participates in class and stuff, but it’s not the same. Joyce says he works a lot now and—"

He’s only fourteen! Alexandra exclaimed, still whispering.

Charlotte shrugged. He has a job. That’s all I know. Anyways he works a lot. When he is home, he stays in his room, and he doesn’t talk to any of them. In fact, sometimes they don’t know when he’s home. Most of the time, actually. He doesn’t come out to eat either. He doesn’t talk to Joyce or Saundra either. He keeps to himself. That’s not like him. At least, it didn’t used to be. She paused. "I want to talk to him but…"

Alexandra studied her friend closely. "Do you think he did it?"

Charlotte shook her head just as Mrs. Hendricks, the writing teacher, entered the room. "No, I don’t. Joyce said she’s not sure, but my twin and I know he didn’t do it."

Nice to see you in our class this year, Alexandra, Mrs. Hendricks said warmly. You’re just in time for our project.

Hello, Mrs. Hendricks, Alexandra said with a warm smile.

I want a five-page or two-thousand-word essay about thunder, lighting, snow, electricity, volcanoes, or whatever that is science-related. I also want a poster board with both pictures and facts. If you want to, you can do and bring in a model. If you do more than two thousand words or more than five pages, you get extra credit points.

Alexandra raised her hand. What if you do both?

More points, Mrs. Hendricks promised.

Charlotte didn’t bother to raise her hand. Couldn’t we work as partners, Mrs. Hendricks?

You can, Mrs. Hendricks agreed. She raised a hand to calm the students and to still their cheers. "However, if you do choose to work in pairs, then both students must turn in a three-page or a one-thousand-word essay and have a separate paper that they’ll read to the class."

The students did not care. There were twenty-three students in the class, and within seconds, there were eleven teams working together. Chester got up, turned in his homework, and opened his science textbook thoughtfully. He looked over the index quietly. His eyes lighted upon two words.

The brain.

He stared at the words ponderously. He nodded to himself and flipped to the chapter talking about the brain. He happened to have the B books from three of his encyclopedia sets. Or he thought he did. Instead, he had the I books. That didn’t deter him. He’d do the immune system instead. It sounded fun. And interesting. He cracked open his three encyclopedias and got out both pen and paper. He first made an outline after scanning the different articles to see how he’d break things up.

Charlotte, Alexandra, Mrs. Hendricks asked, can you watch the class while I run to the library? Or should I get someone else to do it?

We can do it, Mrs. Hendricks, Charlotte answered.

Are there any books that you want from the library? Mrs. Hendricks asked her class.

Team 1 said it wanted books on volcanoes. Team 7 said that’s what they wanted too. Team 9 said it wanted books on earthquakes. Team 5 said it wanted books on the solar system. Team 4 said it wanted books on electricity. Team 10 said it wanted books on lightning. Team 3 said they preferred to search for the books themselves. Team 2 said no thanks, Team 6 and 8 weren’t sure what they wanted to do. Team 11 (Alexandra and Charlotte) asked for books on the brain.

What about you, Larry? Mrs. Hendricks asked him. The whole class looked at him. Or is what you have good enough for you?

He looked up at her. I’m good, ma’am. Thanks. Deep voice, Alexandra thought as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Handsome too. He has a strong New York accent.

Are you sure?

Yes, ma’am.

What will you be doing?

The immune system, ma’am.

He has better manners now too, Charlotte whispered to her friend. Alexandra smiled.

The students talked animatedly. They were in a good mood. They had plenty of things to talk about. The only student who did not join the chatter was Chester. He kept his hands moving as he read his encyclopedia. He wrote down what factors he wanted to use and kept his mouth firmly shut.

Chester—I mean, Larry? Alexandra’s soft gentle voice barely reached his ears. He did not answer. He wasn’t used to any girl speaking to him unless it was to insult him. He barely registered her voice. Larry? Chester’s head jerked upward in surprise.

He glanced to his right and said, Yes?

May I borrow your encyclopedia?

Which one?

The one you’re not using, please.

He shrugged and passed it to her. When she’d taken it, he returned to his work.

Alexandra glanced at the inside cover. Chester Azzaro. She read to herself. She shrugged and flipped to the article that she needed. Chester took it when she passed it back. He didn’t say anything as he took it. He was too absorbed in his work to say anything. He liked writing class. He’d expanded his vocabulary in jail and liked to use it whenever he had the chance. He looked for new ways to expand his vocabulary and so had been put in ninth grade advanced writing class. Chester’s next class was English. He made it through all his morning classes. He always did. No matter how hard the day was, he did his best to get through it with the best efforts that he could possibly give.

Lunchtime came.

Chester took his lunch bag and went to the lunchroom. He always sat away from everyone in the far-right corner of the room. He was never really bothered during lunch. Students didn’t really go out their way to harass him. Chester unwrapped his ham-turkey-Swiss cheese-pepperoni sandwich and reached back into his bag for his green-apple Gatorade; he pulled it out just as Chase A. Baines—sometimes called Cab—stood up. Chase was a jerk. Usually when he was around, things went wrong, unless it was after an awesome football or baseball game. Yet even then, that wasn’t always true. Chase was proud of himself and wanted everything to be done his way.

Cab looked around the lunchroom with narrowed eyes. Students, most of them boys, averted their gazes hurriedly and prayed that they wouldn’t be the day’s target. Chase’s gaze reached Chester. Chester didn’t look up. He was reading up on the immune system and the human body. He sensed Chase’s stare but wouldn’t be intimidated. He pretended not to notice Chase’s probing gaze. Chase puffed out his chest and started across the lunchroom. He had a cold look in his eyes. He nodded at the students as he passed their tables. He smiled grimly as he caught everyone’s attention. He was heading straight for Chester’s table.

Chester sighed inwardly and muttered, Oh boy. What now? He turned the page in his book and kept reading.

Hey, you! Chase’s voice was sharp.

Chester kept on reading.

Hey, you! Students started to look up, and the lunchroom went very, very silent. Students turned to watch and to see what was going on and about to happen. I said, you!

Chester kept his eyes and head down. You! Chase pointed his finger in Chester’s face.

The name’s Larry, Chester said coolly. He still didn’t bother to look up. That or Chester.

We’re not friends. Chase spat. You!

Chester shrugged and picked up his salad bowl. He opened the lid, poured vinaigrette over his salad, added his seasoned chicken strips, and mixed it up. He started eating and coolly returned back to his reading.

When I’m talking to you, listen, you! Chase barked. "This whole lunchroom is mine. Everyone in here are my friends. You aren’t welcome here. Go eat your lunch somewhere else. Chester calmly took a bite of his sandwich. He shrugged. Did you hear what I said? Chase demanded. Go eat your lunch elsewhere."

Chester kept making Chase angrier and angrier with his nonchalance. Chase had highly expected Chester to get really mad and blow up like he once did, but Chester steadily ignored him. Chester was making Chase look more and more like a fool, and they both knew it, but only one of them was enjoying it. Finally Chester stood up. He decided that he was getting nowhere. He closed his salad, tossed his fork into his lunch bag, stacked his books, and said, Okay, dude, I’m out. Just like that. Chase glared at him.

Chester returned the glare with a small knowing smile as he picked up his stuff. See ya! Wouldn’t want to be ya!

What did you just say? Chase demanded.

Chester shrugged and went out the side door. He went to one of his outside spots, sat down on the grass, and opened his salad.

There he is! Get him! Let’s teach that ungrateful scumbag who’s a murderer a lesson! Chester looked up to see Chase and about half of that huge football team in front of him. He started to close his salad again. He stood up quickly, praying he wouldn’t have to fight. Chase immediately tried to shape up to him.

Chester held up his hands and said, Look, I don’t want to fight. Please leave me alone.

Ha, ha, ha! Chase about fell over laughing. Ha, ha, ha, ha! He doesn’t…ha-ha…want to fight! Ha, ha!

Fight! Fight! Fight! A cheerleader darted into the lunchroom. Chase is about to fight Chester! The whole lunchroom rose.

Charlotte looked at Joyce. You okay with this? If you aren’t, I’ll go get Principal Derby.

Joyce, the third most popular girl in school, was torn. She did want to see the fight. Yet that was her twin. She was almost certain that her twin couldn’t beat Chase, though Chester was bigger and taller. She shrugged.

Yeah. Alexandra shrugged too. I’m going to see this fight. C’mon.

Charlotte shook her head. That’s going to be an interesting one. Let’s go, Candice.

Candice detested fights, and so she gladly followed Charlotte out of the lunchroom. When Alexandra and the rest of the cheerleaders, plus the rest of the sports team, arrived at the scene, they were shocked. Chester was ducking and dodging Chase’s punches easily. He wouldn’t swing back at Chase, though. He was tight-lipped, and his eyes were hard, but he didn’t try to stop Chase from hitting him. He was moving steadily away from Chase and moving toward the front of the building that they were behind. He would not fight.

Finally Chester pushed Chase’s head into the brick wall of that building. Enraged, Chase prepared to launch himself at Chester.

Enough! Principal Derby boomed. Enough.

He started it! Chase protested. His left eye was starting to swell already and turn red. He’d have a black eye soon. Look what he did to me! He pushed me hard!

So I did, Chester agreed. You shouldn’t have tried to fight me. It was self-defense.

So it was, Principal Otis Derby agreed. He took note of Chester’s calm manner and behavior. Both of you come with me. Chase, we’re going to have a long talk. Chester, you have to pick up your model for science. You’d better hurry, the bell’s going to ring.

Chapter 4

Charlotte, Alexandra, and Joyce were walking home from school together after cheerleading practice. The three girls were silent.

Interesting day today, Alexandra commented finally.

Tell me about it, Charlotte agreed. Joyce said nothing.

Joyce? Alexandra prodded.

Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Interesting day. Joyce’s tone was flat. Very interesting,

What’s the matter? Alexandra wanted to know.

I think you mean who, Joyce said. She sighed and her shoulders slumped. I hardly know my twin anymore. I’ve hurt his feelings. I know that. I knew I was hurting him when I didn’t visit him when he was at Waverly. I don’t know how to make things right. He doesn’t let anyone in his room, and we don’t see him at mealtimes.

Isn’t that him up there? Charlotte asked, nodding at a tall figure ahead of them on the sidewalk.

It is. Joyce nodded. I thought he left already. I guess not.

He really is tall, Alexandra thought. How’s he so tall when his sisters aren’t?

Next week, the juvies come, Charlotte said finally. She was referring to those in certain juvenile detention centers that went to school with normal students. The cops dropped the juvies off at their designated school and picked them up at the end of the school day. The juvies usually sat together at their own tables, but there was a very small number that sat and hung out with regular students. I’m glad too.

Chester’s going to be with them, right? Joyce asked, referring to Charlotte’s twin.

Yep. Charlotte nodded and smiled. He’ll be out on probation in three months anyways, so the state agreed to let him out for school. This will kind of be like his trial run.

Alexandra smiled. I can’t wait to finally meet him.

I’m sure he’ll be glad to finally meet you, Joyce said with a small grin. Charlotte talks about you a whole lot. He’s probably tired of hearing about you.

Alexandra returned the grin. Tired of hearing about me? Never!

Get over yourself, Joyce retorted.

The three girls laughed and linked arms. They were going to the mall to do a bit of extra shopping and have some fun.

Chester heard their laughter and turned quickly. Seeing who was behind him, he turned back around, pulled his hood over his head, and walked faster. He had no desire to be seen hanging around them. He broke into a jog. He maintained his steady pace until he reached the stop sign at the end of the parking lot. At the stop sign, he paused thoughtfully. He looked both ways and crossed the street. He started to jog again. As he jogged, he sang in his head.

Chester! Then—Larry! Larry Azzaro! Wait up!

He turned back, saw a black car with an unfamiliar face that was somehow familiar. How’d you know me? Who are you?

The back window went down. Don’t recognize my older brother, Larry?

Chester relaxed. Now I do. What’s up, Kirsten?

Kirsten L. Pizzaro was the most popular girl at one of John Waverly’s rival schools. She was the head cheerleader at Azera’s Private Prep Academy. Azera’s Private Prep Academy had a system similar to that of its rivals. Every four years, the school elected its captain for the different sports teams from the eighth graders. The eighth graders were elected at the end of their school year and were expected to carry the teams for the next four years. Thus Alexandra Kirgan was the captain of the cheerleading team at John Waverly’s.

Kirsten L. Pizzaro was blond-haired and brown-eyed. She was only fourteen. Not only did she captain the cheerleading team at Azera’s, but she played basketball and was on her school’s swim team. She also worked at both of Mr. Evans’ restaurants. By law, the two (Kirsten and Chester) were too young to be working the way they did. Nevertheless, they worked anyways and were paid under the table. In cash and by paycheck. After training Chester in July for Mr. Evans’ restaurant, the two had become friends. Kirsten looked him dead in the eye.

Mr. Evans is going to be shorthanded tonight at the Jolly Patch. I told him that you know your stuff, so you’re to be working with me and a few others tonight. We’ve got from eight p.m. to two a.m., if you don’t mind.

Thanks for telling me.

Make sure you wear a suit, Kirsten reminded him. Oh, if I just wanted to tell you that, I’d have called you. I wanted to see if you wanted to come over and shoot a couple of baskets.

Chester hesitated. He’d like to shoot baskets with another person, since he hadn’t done so since July. Yet he wasn’t sure how to handle himself or how her family would react to his being there. He made an uncertain gesture with his hands. Your family won’t mind?

Kirsten laughed bitterly. You don’t know my family. They won’t mind one bit. Come over, and you’ll see what I mean.

All right, Chester agreed. Can we stop at my place, though, please? I need to get my stuff for tonight.

Sure, Kirsten agreed. You’ve time. Right, Hubert?

Hubert, her brother, nodded. Yeah, sure. Put your stuff in the trunk and hop in the front seat.

Thanks.

Chester went in his room, packed a small suitcase, locked his bedroom door, and left. Thanks again, guys. You play basketball, Hubert?

Hubert shook his head. Not really. There’s no sense in the game to me. It’s just people chasing after a dumb ball and wasting time. Really, anyone can do it.

Kirsten shrugged. It’s fun.

Hubert shrugged too. Blah.

Chester smiled a little. So what’s your thing?

Law.

Chester made a face. He held very little regard for lawyers, judges, and law enforcement after what happened to him. He shook his head. Did you start law school yet?

I’ve got two more years of it left, Hubert said. What’s your thing? I don’t really know much about you, even though my sister talks about you often. I’m interested in your…situation.

Who isn’t? Chester thought to himself, but he held his peace on that subject. Instead, he replied, "I’m not really sure what I want to do with my life. I’m not planning on being a lawyer or a doctor. That much I do know. I’d be a doctor before I’d be a lawyer, though."

Kirsten laughed. I’m with you there. She added, "I’m thankful for law enforcement, don’t get me wrong, please. However, I’m just not planning on becoming one. I want to see if I can make my name in the entertainment world as a singer."

Chester nodded. I’d like to try my own hand in it too, but it’s not going to work. Not with my record. I’m probably going to have to settle for computer programming, computer engineering, or just regular engineering. I haven’t really decided yet.

You’d be a good engineer, Kirsten agreed thoughtfully. You have the brains for it.

Why, thank you, Chester said. It’s been a while since I’ve received such a compliment.

She laughed. Well, get used to them.

He smiled a little and said, Think my parents will notice that I’m gone?

She shrugged. You’d be surprised at how little parents pay attention to their teenagers.

Especially when teenagers are supposed to be reckless, young, and dumb, Chester agreed. I’m supposed to be a baby killer but—

Don’t, Kirsten said quietly. She shook her head at him and repeated in a tone that was both soft and gentle. Don’t.

Don’t what? Chester asked, puzzled.

Don’t call yourself a baby killer, Kirsten’s tone did not change as she met his gaze unflinchingly, unwaveringly. You’re not a baby killer, Larry. You shouldn’t think of yourself as one.

Now it was his turn to laugh bitterly. I don’t think of myself as one, Kirsten. I know I’m innocent. That’s what people call me. You know that.

You shouldn’t label yourself by anyone’s opinions, she answered back without hesitating. The people who mean most to you know you’re innocent. At least, most of them who were the closest to you. They should matter more than the world. Keep to your story, Larry. Don’t change it. You promised across national television that you’d never change your story. She paused and met his gaze. So don’t.

He was taken aback. He nodded slowly. It made perfect sense to him. I promise I won’t.

Good. Kirsten nodded her approval. Now you can get some things done.

He shrugged. We’ll see about that.

You’re not much of an optimist, she told him.

True, he agreed with a faint smile. I’m a realist.

She laughed. What-ev-er, Larry.

He smiled. "By the way, what happened to you and