Reprogramming Carlos E-Book

JR Thompson

• Herausgeber: JR Thompson
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

So what if he traipsed around school in his whitey-tighties — it was his superhero costume. The suspension from school might be worth it — he could make national news! What's up with the authorities in his life? — Why are they acting like this is the end of the world? At 13, Carlos is a mess. Texting inappropriate photos of himself to his classmates, dropping his pants and running through halls, spying on neighbors, and seeing nothing wrong with his actions. Mr. Bones fears the boy is heading down a road which will get his name out there alright — on a sexual predator list. Mr. and Mrs. Estrada are to the point where they're not comfortable allowing their son to remain under their roof. Mr. Bones, on the other hand, doesn't want to see him institutionalized and will do anything to keep the family together. But will his uncouth methods of trying to get the boy's attention be enough? It's a spiritual battle worth fighting! Reprogramming Carlos is the third 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 Reprogramming Carlos today and see if you have what it takes to become a Worthy Battle warrior!

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1

Captain Carlos — the name had an authoritative ring to it. Yes, that’s how the thirteen-year-old would introduce himself to the overwhelming flood of reporters. When their vehicles raced up, he would strut outside in his award-winning superhero costume — the one which had earned him an incredible five-day vacation from school.

Checking himself out in the mirror, Carlos was impressed with what he saw — kind of anyway. Lots of guys had whitey-tighties. Well, maybe not lots but at least some of them did. The boy needed something to make his stand out. Then again, other superheroes wore their underwear over tights; some even donned matching capes. Carlos was the only superhero who wore his drawers in an ordinary fashion. Maybe his costume would stand out after all.

If only the school, his probation officer, the cops, and his parents would get over their hypocritical judgment of him — claiming running through the halls in his costume was indecent exposure. It wasn’t like he paraded around in his birthday suit! What was wrong with being seen in his underwear? If people could dress in a similar fashion at swimming pools, in wrestling tournaments, and in bodybuilding competitions, school shouldn’t be any different.

A knock came to the door. “Yeah?” the superhero called.

His door swung open before he had a chance to cover himself up. Ma and Pop both barged in.

“ Can’t you knock first?” Carlos asked while throwing his sweats back on.

Ma laughed sarcastically, “Oh, so it’s embarrassing for your parents to catch you without your pants on but it’s perfectly comfortable jogging around in front of your classmates and teachers that way?”

Carlos plopped himself down on the bed and peered out the window — no reporters in sight! He wondered how far his story might spread. Hopefully it wouldn’t just stop with the local papers; his name deserved to be echoed off of every building in the nation.

“ Why, Carlos?” Pop interrupted his train of thought. “I want to know why you thought that was okay?”

The teen returned his focus to the conversation at hand. “We already talked about this at the school,” he replied coldly.

“ Right,” Pop replied. “You were questioned by the police … but your answers weren’t genuine. What was whirling around that empty head of yours?”

Carlos pulled his legs up on the bed and laid down, facing away from his parents. Discussing the past wouldn’t magically erase it from history.

Ma was losing her patience. Snapping her fingers, she yelled, “Sit up!... You don’t look the other way when an adult is speaking to you!”

At the pace of a slug traipsing through peanut butter, the careless teen raised up and made eye contact with his mother. “You guys are acting like it’s the end of the world... It’s not like I glued sandpaper to Aunt Maggie’s toilet seat again!”

It took everything in Pop to keep his voice calm, “Carlos,” he said, “you’ve crossed the line, my boy. If the court system doesn’t take drastic measures, your ma and I will.”

“ Meaning?”

“ We’re not sure yet. We’re still weighing all of our options.”

“ Like what?”

Ma teared up, “Probably something along the lines of a military academy or a boarding school.”

If nothing else had gotten his attention, that sure did! Carlos put his feet back on the floor and stood up. “You don’t want me anymore?”

Ma left the room, too choked up to speak.

Pop motioned for the boy to return to his seat. “We love you, son. But we’re extremely concerned. If you don’t start taking things seriously, you’re going to hurt somebody.”

Carlos snickered, “I’m not violent, Pop. You know that.”

Pop sat down next to the teen. “I’m not referring to that type of hurt. I’m talking about violating someone. We don’t want you abusing one of your classmates or worse, someone younger than you are.”

Twiddling his thumbs, Carlos spoke in a soft voice, “I can’t believe you think I’d do something like that.”

“ I don’t want to believe it,” Pop replied. “But you keep taking things further and further. It started with clipping half-naked women out of magazine ads, then you graduated to pornographic websites, you asked that girl at school if she was a virgin, you told people you heard your ma and I—”

“ Okay, Pop!” Carlos exclaimed. “I don’t need any more examples. I get it.”

“ I hope you do, son. Your ma and I are determined to put a stop to this before things get worse.”

The boy felt as if his world was quickly coming to an end. “So, you want to ship me off somewhere? To pretend I’m not a part of the family?”

“ Carlos, you will always be a member of our family. But you need more help than we know how to give.” The man’s eyes screamed of heartbreak and shame.

“ Can’t you just give me another chance?” Carlos asked.

“ You’ve had too many chances already, son.”

“ Sounds to me like you’ve already made up your mind.”

Pop sat quietly for a moment looking as though he didn’t know what to say. The situation was more than awkward for him. “You’re right, Carlos,” he said. “We have. Your ma and I are not comfortable allowing you to continue staying here. You won’t be welcome under this roof until you’ve gotten your hormones under control. The court system may decide to place you in a long-term psychiatric hospital or a detention center for sexual offenders. If they do, we’re not going to fight it… If they don’t, however, we’re going to find another placement for you.”

Carlos hugged his old man — not because he appreciated what was being said. He knew hugs had a way of warming a parent’s heart. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I won’t do it again.”

“ It’s too late for that now, son. What’s done is done.”

Releasing his tight grip on Pop, Carlos looked him in the eye, “Can I at least have some say-so as to where I go?”

“ You can make suggestions, but the final decision will be up to your ma and I.”

“ I understand,” the boy replied. “But can I go somewhere out in the country? Like one of those boys’ ranches where I can ride horses and milk cows? I’ve always wondered what it would be like to live on a farm.”

Pop shook his head, “You don’t get it, do you son? We’re not trying to reward you for acting out! You’ve got to learn some boundaries!”

2

Inviting a detective who was accompanying a social worker from Child Protective Services into his living room was difficult, but Mr. Estrada felt he had no choice. Even though they didn’t have a warrant, the social worker insisted she had the right to enter their home for the purposes of conducting a full investigation.

Mr. Estrada didn’t understand. He thought government employees had no rights to enter private dwellings without first obtaining a court order to do so — the detective insisted that was not the case.

“ Let me explain the reason for our visit,” the social worker said after obtaining permission to step inside. “Your son’s behavior is of the utmost concern. When we receive referrals like this one, we have to ensure the offending juvenile has a safe home environment.”

“ I understand,” Mr. Estrada replied.

“ I would like to begin my assessment by speaking with Carlos,” the lady said. “Is there a room where I can interview him alone?”

Carlos squirmed nervously.

He wasn’t the only one who was uncomfortable. Mr. Estrada wanted to tell the officials to hit the road and that he didn’t care if the door hit them where the good Lord split them. It was his home, his castle and his domain. As a citizen of the United States of America he felt he had the right to decide what took place there. But they had already been through all of that. The freedom he thought he had was all but a myth.

Still, if he could prevent Carlos from having to be alone with her, it would at least relieve some of the tension in the room. “Our son doesn’t like to be questioned by adults he doesn’t know,” he said. “Even when we go to doctors or to see his probation officer, he wants me or his Ma to be present with him.”

The social worker casually pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “We can’t take any chances. If you or his mother are in the room, Carlos may not be comfortable disclosing the truth about any abuse or neglect that may be occurring here.”

The picture was becoming more clear. “So, you’re here to see if my wife and I are abusive?”

The social worker nodded, “Afraid so.”

“ Unreal! Unbelievable! Our son gets in trouble, so you come out here to interrogate his parents?”

“ I’m just doing my job, sir. Do you have a place where I can interview him alone or would you prefer I take him down to my office?”

That lady meant business. Mr. Estrada could tell standing up to her was only going to spell more trouble than it was worth. “You can do it here,” he grumbled. “Carlos, why don’t you take this lady to your room?”

The thirteen-year-old stood with his legs trembling beneath him. “I’m sorry, guys,” he said with his eyes moving back and forth between Ma and Pop.

“ You didn’t do anything wrong,” the social worker assured him.

“ He didn’t?” Mr. Estrada scoffed. “Why are you here, then?”

Ignoring him, the social worker said, “Show me to your room, Carlos.”

Once the coast was clear, the detective spoke up, “While Sonya’s with your son, I will need to speak with each of you individually. Who wants to go first?”

Mr. and Mrs. Estrada looked at each other, neither looking forward to an interrogation.

“ I suppose I’ll go first,” Mrs. Estrada said.

“ We can do the interview right here if your husband is willing to leave the room.”

Mr. Estrada did not like the situation one bit. He didn’t know the detective from Cain. Just because the man wore a badge didn’t mean he was a good guy. For all he knew, the so-called detective could be a sexual predator or a serial killer.

When Mr. Estrada didn’t budge, the detective became slightly more aggressive. “Would you mind leaving the room?”

Mr. Estrada did mind — more than that brazen detective would ever know. Determined to control his emotions, he simply said, “No problem… I’ll be in the garage if you need me.”

With his stomach in knots, Mr. Estrada stepped outside. For years, he had heard horror stories about Child Protective Services. The word on the street was that social workers were awarded bonus checks for removing a certain number of children from their homes each month. If that were the case, a dishonest social worker would have good reason to twist anything he, his wife, or son said.

According to Mr. Estrada’s cell phone, it was 9:00 am. He wondered how long his family was going to be subjected to questioning.

Noticing how sloppy his garage had gotten, he thought about trying to tidy it up a bit, but that sick feeling taking over his body made it impossible to do anything but hop in the car to impatiently await his interview.

At 10:30 am, the detective finally made his way to the garage. “Thank you for your patience,” he said.

“ No problem,” Mr. Estrada replied, getting out of his vehicle. “Do you want me to come back inside with you?”

“ No, that’s okay. We can talk here. Just so you will be aware, I will be taping this conversation.”

This situation was more serious than Mr. Estrada thought. The only reason for taping the interview was because the officer planned on using it at a later time — Mr. Estrada wasn’t stupid. Afraid to object, he quietly said, “Understood.”

The detective took a small notepad out of his shirt pocket and flipped to a fresh page. “I’d like to begin by having you describe your son’s personality for me. What’s Carlos like?”

Mr. Estrada faked a smile, “He’s a sweet, fun kid. Almost always has a grin on his face. I’d say he’s somewhat of a people-pleaser… when he’s not being ornery anyway.”

“ And your wife. What’s she like?”

At least the guy’s questions weren’t laced with arsenic. It almost felt as though he was simply trying to find out how each member of the family viewed the others in their household. That was easy enough! “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” Mr. Estrada said. “Supportive and loving, a hard worker, amazing sense of humor.”

The detective was apprehensive. “I see. So, you have a perfect family? Everybody gets along well? Never a squabble or fight?”

Mr. Estrada could tell he had said the wrong thing. “I’m not claiming there are never problems, sir. My wife and I have disagreements from time to time. And Carlos… he’s a teenager. The boy wouldn’t be normal if he didn’t get in his fair share of trouble.”

The detective jotted something down on his notepad. “Trouble, huh? And who deals with him when he gets in trouble? In other words, who is the primary disciplinarian? You or your wife?”

Mr. Estrada thought for a moment, sticking to his game-plan of producing no hasty answers. “I don’t know that either of us is the primary disciplinarian. It’s pretty even.”

“ Uh-huh,” the detective said. “And what kind of consequences do you give your son?”

Mr. Estrada’s breathing shallowed but there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. “I… uh… I’ve grounded him, assigned extra chores, sent him to bed early, taken away privileges… you know, the same types of discipline all parents give their kids.”

“ And would that same type of discipline include corporal punishment?”

Mr. Estrada leaned against the car, “Yes, sir. It would.”

A sneaky expression lit the detective’s face. “Would you mind defining corporal punishment? What does it mean to you?”

Mr. Estrada shrugged his shoulders, “It doesn’t mean the same thing to everybody?”

“ No, sir. It sure doesn’t.”

What did the way he disciplined Carlos have to do with the boy running around the school in his underwear? Did the detective seriously believe he had abused his son and that’s why he was acting out? What an infuriating interview! Mr. Estrada didn’t want to, but he knew he had to answer. “I believe it refers to spankings, sir.”

“ So, you readily admit to hitting your son?”

Oh, the nerve! That was exactly what Mr. Estrada was afraid of. Some liberal minded cop who probably didn’t have any kids of his own who had no idea how effective the rod of correction could be. Somehow, he had to keep himself calm. He could not insult the man, regardless of how he felt. “Not hitting. Spanking, sir.”

“ Spanking, hitting, same difference,” the detective mumbled. “Using your terminology then, will you admit to spanking your son?”

“ Yes, sir. Spankings are still legal, are they not?”

“ They are as long as they’re not abusive.”

“ And where is the line drawn? How do you decide what kind of a spanking is discipline and what kind is abusive?”

Apparently, the detective hadn’t taken any courses in multi-tasking. He took his time in scribbling down another note and didn’t speak a word until he was finished. Finally, he looked up. “As long as you haven’t been excessive, you have nothing to worry about.”

Mr. Estrada decided to learn from the detective. If the man could make him define corporal punishment, he could make him define some terms as well. “And what is the definition of excessive?” he asked.

The detective stammered for a moment, “I… uh… well, the law isn’t clear on that. It’s a judgment call.”

Somehow, Mr. Estrada wasn’t surprised. Sounded like a dump truck load of horse manure as far as he was concerned. “So, if you like me, you can say it’s discipline, and if you don’t, you can claim it’s excessive?”

“ Sir, we don’t have all day. Let’s just continue on with the interview… Does your wife spank Carlos as well?”

Mr. Estrada thought about insisting on an answer to his question before allowing the interview to continue but he knew it would only make matters worse. “Yes, she does.”