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- Herausgeber: JR Thompson
- Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
- Sprache: Englisch
Yeah, he beat his grandma to a pulp — she deserved it. Of course, he fled from the law — it was the only way to keep the cuffs from going on. And why should he tell the truth? — that would be a stupid move. Alden is drowning in a sea of raging anger. His grandma, teachers, and principal have all but given up on him. More unsettling, the 13-year-old refuses to grab hold of the rope thrown to him by a man determined to drag him to safety. Alden's foolish pride is about to sink him into inescapable depths. Who assigned Mr. Bones to be his personal lifeguard anyway? Alden has no desire to control his temper, but Mr. Bones is adamant he can transform him into a model citizen. Can he rescue the troubled boy from self-destruction before it's too late? It's a spiritual battle worth fighting! Rebuilding Alden is the first novel in a series of motivational Christian fiction books which are serious yet funny at the same time and will be enjoyed by teens and adults alike. Purchase Rebuilding Alden today and see if you have what it takes to become a Worthy Battle warrior!
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018
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Table of contents
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1
Forget three strikes and you’re out. Three blows with the baseball bat and Grandma was out of the game. Confusion, sadness, and heartbreak erased the old woman’s smile lines as she begged the thirteen-year-old for mercy.
“ Do I get my cell back?” the brat yelled.
Shielding her face with both arms, Mrs. Wamboldt cried, “Alden… please!” She curled herself into a ball, preparing for a continued attack.
Alden raised the bat and slowly repeated himself in an obnoxious, threatening tone, “Do… I get… my cell… back?”
Mrs. Wamboldt’s lips began to quiver as she nodded, “Yes… yes... Okay?... You can have your worthless telephone.”
With a devious smirk and an intimidating false jump toward his grandmother, Alden said, “That’s what I thought... Where is it?”
“ In my bedroom,” Mrs. Wamboldt groaned. “Under the mattress.”
Alden tossed his weapon on the couch. “Thanks, Grandma,” he said while pushing a tuft of wavy blonde hair out of his face.
Darting to the old woman’s room, Alden knocked her mattress completely off her bed and found his smartphone still intact. There weren’t any voicemails; no missed calls for that matter. He checked his social media; not a single notification. Unbelievable!... That was a wasted effort, he told himself. Exiting the master bedroom, Alden shouted, “Hey, Grandma!”
She replied with a weak, drawn-out, “What now, Alden?”
“ Can you drive me over to the skatepark?”
Mrs. Wamboldt met him in the hall, holding her ribcage. “Are you kidding me?” she asked in disbelief.
Alden shook his head. “I’m bored. It’s not like there’s anything to do around this nursing home.”
“ Nursing home? What are you talking about?”
“ It’s a figure of speech, Grandma. You know… I’m saying you’re over the hill. A has-been. You’ve got one foot on land and the other one in the grave. Might as well be a nursing home.”
“ I’ll tell you one thing, you little hooligan. If I had ever spoken to my grandmother that way, she’d have taken a weeping willow switch and—”
“ Yeah, yeah, Grandma. I’ve heard this story a million times. Why don’t we just skip on past the lecture about dinosaur days and move into the present? I need you to run me over to the park.”
“ You could have landed me in the hospital, Alden! Over a telephone! And now, before offering a simple apology, you just climb up on your high horse and expect me to give you a ride somewhere?”
The remorseless teen popped a stick of wintergreen bubblegum in his mouth. “Thanks, Grandma... I’ll meet you in the car.” Dropping the gum wrapper on the floor, he slammed his shoulder into her as he barged past.
Mrs. Wamboldt might not have been able to stand up for herself physically, but that didn’t mean she took everything lying down either. She was scared of her grandson but worse than that, his careless attitude was breaking her heart. “I didn’t say I was going to take you,” she stammered.
“ I know… but you will. See you in a minute.” Alden trotted back to his room, snatched his wallet and the lighter he had shoplifted from Bernie’s Grocery Store, and headed to the driveway where he found the old rattle-trap locked. Nobody in their right mind would steal the rust bucket. Alden knew good and well why it was kept secure. Grandma didn’t trust him. Does she really think I’d be caught dead driving this old clunker?
No bother. Hopping up on the hood, Alden climbed his way to the roof and sat atop the car. Dangling his legs over the windshield, he kicked his feet while grumbling about how Grandma better hurry up.
Sure enough, there she came, hobbling out of the house on her cane.
“ It’s about time!” Alden shouted at her, sliding down the windshield and inadvertently bending one of the wiper arms.
“ One of these days, young ‘un,” Mrs. Wamboldt snapped, pointing her cane at him.
“ One of these days, what, old ‘un?”
“ I’m going to report you to the strong arm of the law. It’s illegal to assault the elderly.”
Alden waved her off. “You wouldn’t do any such thing!... And if you ever dare to try it, you better hope they keep me in jail until the day I die. If they don’t, I won’t hesitate to take that crooked stick of yours and redesign your face with it.”
Mrs. Wamboldt shook her cane. “Alden, the only reason I’m taking your spoiled little behind to the skatepark is to get you out of my hair for a spell.”
“ Right,” Alden scoffed. “You mean because you’re afraid of what’ll happen to your oversized, wrinkled behind if you don’t.”
Without another word, Mrs. Wamboldt unlocked the car and drove the rebel to the park.
“ Thanks for the lift!” he said.
Mrs. Wamboldt wasn’t in the mood to pretend everything was okay. “You can walk home when you’re through. It’s only four blocks, and the exercise’ll do you good.”
“ Really, Grandma? I’m the one who could use some exercise? Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
Without providing an audible response, the widow drove away.
Alden looked around to see what he could get into. Oh, yeah! That four-eyed hairy skeleton should provide some entertainment! he told himself. The boy appeared to be a couple of years older than Alden. He was obviously a nerd. Big, square glasses, purple braces, a charcoal vest like a guy might wear to church, khaki-colored corduroy pants, arms that belonged on a stick figure... definitely the kid he was looking for. “Nice sweater!” Alden called out sarcastically.
“ Ha. Funny,” the kid retorted.
“ You and your great-grandfather share the same wardrobe?”
“ Get a life!”
Alden walked closer. “Oh, I’ve got a life alright; a better one than you’ll ever have.” He kicked Skeleton Boy’s board out from under him and chuckled as the kid fell on his rump.
“ Oops! My bad.”
The boy got up, rubbing his bony rear-end and lower back. “I think I may have broken my tailbone,” he whined, struggling to drag himself toward the bleachers.
Alden volunteered to call the kid’s mommy so she could kiss his boo-boo and make him all better.
“ Leave him alone!” a girl’s fed-up voice suddenly squeaked from behind him.
Alden turned to see Marlee, one of the majorettes from school.
“ Oh, lighten up! We were just having ourselves some fun.”
Marlee was not one who enjoyed confrontation. She half-smiled and said, “I know… but Charlie’s had enough for now. At least wait until he’s back on his feet.”
“ Fair enough. But only because you asked nicely,” Alden said. “Marlee, you don’t happen to have a cig you could loan me, do ya?”
“ I thought you were going to kick the habit?”
“ I’m going to, eventually.”
“ You realize we’re only like thirteen, right? It takes years to get as addicted as you pretend to be.”
“ I’ve been smoking since I was eight.”
“ Okay,” she said doubtfully. “I’ll give you one, but this is the last time. You never pay me back.”
“ Sorry; I would if I could. My granny doesn’t have any tobacco in the house, and there’s nobody else around for me to steal ‘em off of.”
“ I feel sorry for you,” Marlee said sarcastically. “Do you at least have a light?”
“ That I can help you with!”
Alden whipped out his lighter, and the two lit their cigarettes. Seconds later a police car pulled up to the scene.
“ What are they doing here?” Marlee asked.
Alden shrugged. “Beats me.”
They watched as an officer approached. “You kids are a little young to be smoking, aren’t you?”
“ Yeah. Sorry, sir,” Alden said, dropping his cigarette and stomping it out.
“ Me too. Sorry,” Marlee agreed, following Alden’s lead and extinguishing her own.
The officer looked pleased. He scoped out the park for a moment before crossing his arms and saying, “Young man, is your name Alden Wamboldt by any chance?”
Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Alden glared at the stranger. “Who wants to know?”
“ Whoa, son! That’s no way to talk to a man who’s wearing a badge.”
“ That dirty ole thing makes you better than everybody else because…?”
Marlee was terrified. “Stop, Alden! You’re gonna get both of us in trouble.”
The officer grinned. “Thanks for identifying him, little missy.”
Alden spun and ran in the opposite direction.
“ Get back here, boy!” The deputy wasn’t playing. He charged after the teen like a raging bull; within ten seconds flat, Alden was pinned to the ground with his hands behind his back and the cuffs clamping down on his wrists. “You’re under arrest for assault and battery as well as for fleeing from law enforcement.”
“ Assault and battery? Of who?”
“ You know exactly what I’m talking about, Alden. Do you have a record?”
“ What do you think?”
“ Chill with the attitude! I’m going to read you your rights, and we’re going downtown.”
“ You can read ‘em. Doesn’t mean I have to listen.”
The officer cleared his throat and began to deliver his spiel. Alden interrupted him by shouting, “Help! He’s attacking me! Help! Somebody!”
2
When was Philip’s adorable lioness able to prowl into his office and claw into his laptop? He didn’t care. There was no better way to start his day than to find the words “I love you” scrolling across his screen. Somehow, he would have to return the favor.
Philip’s love-struck smile took his secretary off guard as she peeked her head through the door, “Mr. Bones?”
Minimizing his screen, Philip put his business-face on. “Yes?”
“ Rebekka Simon’s here to see you.”
“ Thanks. Send her in.”
At the age of fifteen, Rebekka had already earned quite the name for herself. Stealing, vandalism, running away from home, fighting… Satan would have been proud.
Following her normal routine, the pale-faced, black-haired teenager tramped into the room and slumped down in a chair opposite Philip’s desk; her six-month pregnant mother eased herself into the chair next to her.
“ How are you lovely ladies doing this morning?” Philip asked.
“ Great,” Rebekka replied coldly. She crossed her legs and clenched her purse. “I checked in. Can I leave now?”
“ You know better than that, Rebekka,” Philip replied, leaning back in his chair and rolling an ink pen back and forth between his hands.
“ Just hoping for a change of pace. Can’t blame a beauty for trying, can you?”
“ Not for trying, no. But for throwing herself off a cliff, absolutely,” Philip retorted. “The whole purpose of our meetings is so you can improve. Are things going any better?”
Rebekka rolled her eyes and pursed her lips, “Of course!”
Mrs. Simon casually shook her head.
“ So, you’ve not gotten into any trouble since you were here last month?”
Shifting in her chair, Rebekka claimed things were going wonderfully.
Again, Mrs. Simon shook her head.
Philip set his ink pen on the desk and leaned forward. “What’s my motto, Rebekka?”
The girl made air-quotes with her hands, “I won’t make any bones about it.”
“ Exactly,” Philip replied. “So, here’s the deal; your mom has been sitting over there shaking her head the entire time those lies have been spewing out of your mouth. Now, I’m ready to hear the truth. How are things going?”
Rebekka shot her mother a dirty look. “If she’s gonna talk smack with that big head of hers, she might as well just snitch on me with her lips… You tell the man.”
Philip straightened in his chair. “First of all, that was both unladylike and uncalled for. Secondly, I didn’t ask your mother, Rebekka; I asked you. What’s going on?”
Uncrossing her legs and allowing her purse to slide to the floor, the she-devil said, “It’s not a big deal, really. I just slipped out to a party the other night.”
Mrs. Simon interjected, “Breaking your curfew and acting like my rules mean absolutely nothing.”
Philip rubbed his goatee. “I hate to admit it, but that’s exactly the kind of report I was expecting. What else, Rebekka? How have you been doing on the other issues?”
“ Fine.”
Mrs. Simon inhaled a deep breath. “Not true... How many times have you been tardy to school this month, Rebekka?”
“ I don’t know... Two?... Three maybe?”
“ And how many times have you skipped class?”
“ Mom, seriously?... He doesn’t care about all of that.”
Philip interrupted. “Yes, actually I do. And I’m going to be frank here, young lady. I’m tired of having meeting after meeting with you and getting nowhere.”
Cocking her head, Rebekka retorted, “And I’m tired of hearing the same lecture every time I get hauled down here.”
“ Good. We’re agreed then. Mrs. Simon, I’m going to petition the court to have your daughter placed in a juvenile detention center for a minimum of three months. If the judge honors the petition, we will reevaluate the situation ninety days from her date of incarceration.”
Mrs. Simon smiled, “Thank you, Mr. Bones.”
“ My pleasure.”
“ Wait a minute!” Rebekka piped up. “That’s not fair. You can’t put me in juvie!”
“ You’re right,” Philip replied. “All I can do is make the recommendation. The rest is up to the judge.” Standing, Philip added, “Have a good day, ladies.”
Rebekka jumped up and stormed out of the office in a state of fury. Her mother, on the other hand, struggled to rise to her feet and slowly waddled after her.
Philip didn’t have time to breathe before his secretary came back to the door, “You have another party waiting.”
“ Another check-in?”
“ No. A new probationer. The name’s Alden Wamboldt.”
“ Alden Wamboldt, huh? Do me a favor. Stall him for a few minutes while I peruse his file.”
“ Three minutes enough time?”
“ Sure. Thanks, Rose.”
“ That’s what I get the big bucks for.”
Alden Wamboldt, here we are, Philip said to himself, grabbing the file from a basket on his desk. Oh yes, I remember now. The ruffian who assaulted his grandmother. Flipping a few more pages, he suspected his next meeting might be a little livelier than his last.
In no time, Alden’s grandmother limped into the room, fell into a seat, and leaned her cane against the desk. A moment later Alden strutted in as if he owned the place. “You my probation officer, I assume?” he asked.
“ I believe you meant to presume… but yes, I am,” Philip said, standing to shake hands with his new client. “You can call me Mr. Bones.”
“ Mr. Bones?” The kid snickered. “That’s hilarious. I bet you got made fun of in school when you were a kid, huh?”
Philip cracked his knuckles. “Not really.”
With a cocky smirk, Alden replied, “Right. With a name like that?”
“ Well,” Philip said. “A couple of guys might’ve tried it, but once they saw I wasn’t one to be messed with, they didn’t do it again and neither did anyone else for that matter.”
“ Yeah? What’d you do?”
“ We’re not here to talk about my past right now. We’re here to talk about you.”
“ My lucky day,” Alden scoffed.
“ Mrs. Wamboldt, the first meeting with a client is usually quite time-consuming. We will probably be here for at least an hour. Would you prefer to stay with your grandson or do you have something else you’d like to do while you’re waiting?”
“ I don’t have to stay?”
“ Even though I generally prefer the guardians to be here, I believe I can make an exception in your case. You’re free to hang out with us, but it’s entirely up to you.”
Using her cane, Mrs. Wamboldt rose to her feet. “See you later, Alden… Now you behave yourself for this gentleman.”
“ Oh, he will,” Philip said while giving the boy an evil eye. “Don’t you worry about that.”
Mrs. Wamboldt grinned and walked out the door.
Once she left the office, Philip sat down and said, “Okay, Alden. Let’s start off with how you ended up on probation, and we’ll go from there. Why are you here today?”
“ So you can get a paycheck I guess.”
Philip laughed. “Good one, kid. I like your style. But I don’t like some of the things it says about you in this folder. What’d you get arrested for?”
Alden cleared his throat. “Didn’t you just tell me you have everything right there in my file? You’ve already read the reports. You know my history so why bother asking?”
“ Things don’t work that way around here, Alden. I asked a question, and I expect it to be answered.”
“ And what happens if I refuse?”
Philip ambled to the front of his desk. Peering down at the rebellious teen, he asked the boy if he had noticed the disgruntled client leaving the office just before Rose sent him back.
“ Yeah… So?”
“ Did she look very happy to you?”
“ No, and who could blame her? Do you think anybody’s going to be happy after sitting in this cramped office with you?”
“ You would be surprised.”
“ I’m sure,” Alden scoffed.
“ Believe what you want to believe, kid, but I can tell you this much; you don’t want to follow that girl’s example. I’ll do whatever I can to straighten you out — even if you hate me for it.”
Alden folded his arms. “Do you think I’m afraid of you?”
“ No, not at all. But I seriously doubt you want to go to jail.”
“ Jail? I’m on probation.”
“ That you are, but I report to the judge. Probation is kind of like a second chance for you, kiddo. You can do well in this trial period and retain your freedom, or you can ignore the directives you’re given and guarantee yourself a nice little home behind bars.”
Alden didn’t utter a word, but with his eyes screamed, “I’ll show you! Just give me time to figure out where your buttons are, Mister.”
Toward the end of their meeting, Mrs. Wamboldt returned. Philip asked Alden to relax in the office while he spoke with his grandmother in private.
“ Mrs. Wamboldt, I’m going to cut right to the chase. You cannot continue to be afraid of your grandson. Your fear is enabling the boy to walk all over you; that’s teaching Alden it’s perfectly acceptable to disrespect others in authority over him.”
Mrs. Wamboldt took her glasses off and wiped the dust from her lenses. “I know that but look at me. I’m old and far too feeble to be dealing with an out-of-control teenager. I’ve already raised my children. I’m trying to do the boy a favor by keeping a roof over his head. But I am terrified of him and with good reason.”
Philip had heard that story many times before. “Mrs. Wamboldt, you are a grown woman. Yes, you may be up in years and yes, you may walk with a cane. But that little boy is living in your house, and it’s your responsibility to make him mind.”
“ I try, Mr. Bones,” the woman said in a soft voice. “But I don’t know how to make him do anything.”
“ You better figure it out, ma’am. We’ll give Alden some time on probation and see how things go, but I already told him I will not hesitate to have him thrown into a correctional facility if he ever lays another hand on you. If he gets physical with you again, you need to let me know so it can be dealt with.”
“ I understand,” Mrs. Wamboldt said.
“ Furthermore, I will be putting together a list of requirements Alden must adhere to in order to remain on probation. For the first two months, I need to see him in my office at least once per week. When he comes in next week, I’ll go over the list of rules with him. His choices as to whether or not to adhere to them will determine his fate.”
“ Yes, sir. I understand. Have you explained all of this to my grandson?”
“ I sure have. I believe he gets it, but I’m not sure he’ll comply.”
