The Mysteries of Dean Winchester Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Once I got home, I raced up the stairs to my room and stuffed the stack of papers under my pillow, so I could do some midnight snooping. I tried to put on a casual face as I sauntered down the stairs. At that moment, I mentally debated whether or not I should tell my parents about what I saw today in the locker room and in Dean’s file. Being the mature and responsible teenager that I am, I decided to avoid the topic of Dean’s file because that would lead my lawyer mom to the question of how did I get the file in the first place. She would then proceed to find out (with or without me disclosing truthful information) that I might have broken into the school’s files. That fact would then turn into grounding or some other “innovative” form of teenage punishment. As stereotypical as it is, I am not found of grounding. Henceforth, all direct mention of Dean (well at least Dean’s file) is going out the window and being covered with a large amount of dirt.
"Luke,” my mother called as I was in the middle of my descent down the stairs, “dinner has been ready for 30 minutes. Where in the world have you been?”
“Track practice ran late and coach wanted to talk to me afterword,” I replied, attempting to refrain from any telltale signs that I am lying.
“Hmm.” My mother scanned me over, almost like she was peering into my soul. “What did he say?”
Whew! I can’t believe that actually worked!
“He said that I am doing pretty well this season and he thinks I can go far in the hurdles for competition. I just need to put in a little more practice time,” I replied.
This wasn’t a complete lie; my coach did mention this to me earlier.Five minutes later, we were all sitting down around the dinner table. I have not said much this meal, since I was thinking about Dean’s predicament. He was truly confusing me. I need to find a way to receive some sort of answer or else I might go completely nuts and ask Dean. Ha! Now that is funny.
“Hey Dad?” I asked, figuring out a subtle way to work this topic into normal conversation. I continued when he looked up at me from his plate. “During lunch, Bradley and Lewis were discussing a movie about a kid taken by CPS. They were debating about the accuracy of the facts. I was curious about a couple of them. One of the main subjects I was confused about was the situation of a teacher reporting a supposedly abused child. If a teacher recognizes signs of abuse and contacts CPS, how long will it take for them to perform an official investigation and find out if said youth is getting abused or not?"
" It typically takes about 30 days for them to do a complete investigation but they normally take action about the case within 24 hours of being notified about a child being abused. Was that helpful?" my father replied.
"Yes. Thanks Dad! You know what, I don't think I am hungry anymore. Thank you for dinner Mom. I am going to go finish up some... uh...homework. G'night!" I ran upstairs to my room and decided that I would try to finish reading Dean's file and gather more information on Dean and his behavior tomorrow.
I removed the paper clip from my stack of copied papers and continued reading. The next two papers were stapled together. Apparently, they were from a hospital. A hospital that was in Tucson, Arizona which was on the other side of the United States as Augusta, Maine. Hmmm... What would cause a family to move that far away? I turned my attention back on the sheet of paper. The year on the paper was 1988. If Dean is the same age as me, then he would have been nine. A certain Dr. Hawthorne records the reasons for Dean's hospital visit. A nine year old is taken into the E.R. by his father. They were supposedly hiking and were attacked by some sort of wild animal, but there were other theories. Dean had three long gashes running from his left shoulder to his right hip on his back, four broken ribs, and a concussion. One of the broken ribs punctured his lung and it collapsed. They had to repair it surgically. He was moved to PICU and stayed there for a week. After two and a half weeks, Dean was signed out AMA. Who signs their gravely injured nine year old out of the hospital? John Winchester, that's who, well at least according to the document.
The next page was pictures. I barely contained my dinner when I saw them. The stitches in his wounds made Dean look like a mini-Frankenstein. The skin around them was pink from irritation and the rest of his back was a sickly pale gray color.What the heck? Where did Dean keep on getting all of these weird scratches? Well more like gashes.. Was his father some sick-o or something? Dean Winchester and his family are becoming such an interesting topic.
I have to know what is going on for sure. Since Dean doesn't seem like the sharing type, I might have to do something kind of childish. I think I am going to tell a teacher. Probably Mr. McKinley because he is a good teacher, my favorite actually. Also, rumor has it that Mr. McKinley called CPS for this one kid who was getting abused and now that kid is in a safe and loving family. I thought if anyone can help Dean, it would be him.
The next day, I had Pre-calculus with Mr. McKinley. However, I was watching Dean the whole time. I was trying to pick up as many details as possible. Dean always sucks on his pens during class. Dean is not afraid to make eye contact with the teacher. Every ten minutes, Dean shifts in his seat uncomfortably and makes a slight grimace. A grimace of pain, I presume, considering what I witnessed in the locker room the other day. Dean was writing paragraph after paragraph of something in his notebook. It deffinately wasn't English, but it had almost the same symbols. Italian? Spanish? I looked closer. On the paper ,what words I could make out were weird. 'Exorcizamus te omnis... ' Latin? Was Dean writing in Latin in the middle of precalculus? Who does that? How does Dean know Latin? They don't offer it at our school.
Another quirk on the never-ending list of Strange Things about Dean Winchester.Dean looks extremely bored. Dean never uses a calculator. Mr. McKinley handed back our tests. Dean's test was perfect. He got a 100%. Dean stuffed the test into his folder, almost like he was ashamed of his grade, or didn't want anyone to know he was actually intelligent. Dean probably earned the highest grade in class. No one got an A+ on Mr. McKinley's tests. Why didn't Dean care? Is it because he is too worried about what happens at home with his dad?
Right as the bell rings, Dean turns around and sees me staring at him. This just got awkward. I give him a little smile and a slight wave, trying to be friendly. Dean gives me a strange look and nods, the corners of his mouth slightly twitching up. I gathered my belongings and walked as slowly as possible to the front of the room so everyone could clear out before I talk to Mr. McKinley.
"Hi Luke," Mr. McKinley said as I approached his desk," what can I do for you?"
"Hey Mr. McKinley. Umm...It's about Dean."
TO BE CONTINUED...