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By the time Terry Menconi arrived at the state juvenile rehab center, he was too numb to react even to the humiliating check-in process. The previous few weeks had been just too unreal for him to relate to.

Oh, he obviously noticed the stark contrast between the spare room he shared with another boy and the rather luxurious room he had lived in at home for his whole life. And he could not help but notice the bored, emotionless actions of the employees who processed him. He most definitely noticed that.

Emotionless was an attitude that Terry had not often encountered. As he told his friends, everything at his home happened with the gain all the way up. When his mother was being motherly, the sugar almost dripped off of her, she was so melodramatic. When she was being critical, which happened much more often, it was just as overacted, but a harsh, negative tone replaced any sweetness. Then, in the midst of one of the endless pitched battles, the emotional level was off the scale.

The criticism and micromanaging were bad, but Terry could probably have survived just fine if that was the worst dysfunction in the Menconi household. What he never could tolerate were the fights. Being very bright and perceptive, he understood completely that most of it was show and ritual. But it was also for the purpose of determining who won - who got to force their will on the losers.

Terry just could not do battle. It was not in his nature. Thus, he became the one the loser controlled to assuage their bruised ego. All except his older sister Julie. Julie fought with their parents - oh, how she fought! But she never took it out on Terry. Rather, she often went to battle for him. He felt she honestly understood his feelings and did her best to protect him. The problem was, she was so wrapped up in protecting herself that she could not always watch out for him.

Terry, like his sister, instinctively understood some of the essentials of survival. Being bright just like her, he never slacked off on school work as a form of rebellion. He knew that the retribution would be too severe to contemplate. Beyond that, he was determined to earn an academic scholarship that would get him to a school of his choosing, not his parents'. Especially after what he saw happening to Julie, he became even more determined scholastically.

Neither did he use any form of misbehavior or disrespect as a weapon. For one thing, it was not worth the trouble, and for another, he was a naturally congenial, respectful person. Most of his friends could not remember a harsh or sarcastic word from Terry.

Friends were essential to another of his survival imperatives. It took him no longer than Julie to learn that the less time he spent at home, the better. Being naturally gregarious, his friends' parents tended to see him more than did his own. Typically, Terry would stay at the school library for the relatively short time it took him to complete his daily homework. Then, he would meet one or more friends and hang out.

Terry had reached 6'3" by his junior year. He was slim but not skinny, and undeniably handsome. Exercise, both running and weightlifting, had become a critical form of escape and stress management for him, giving him a surprisingly strong and well-toned body for his age.

Despite his mild demeanor, Terry had inherited the Menconi temper. As a very young lad, he saw Julie's struggles with anger, and worked very hard to control his own. To him, it represented what was worst about his family, and he wanted no part of it. Of course, it was not that easy, and when he reached puberty, all of the other emotional and hormonal changes made anger control a severe challenge. That was when he discovered that exercise, hard exercise, went a long way toward diffusing his tightly constrained emotions.

Terry was quite athletic, although probably not enough to make a varsity team. His father, Vince, desperately wanted him to excel at a sport, and that was enough to quench his interest in formal competition. Through all the forced little league baseball and pee wee football, he had to ignore the fun he was having and purposely slack off. The pressure even lasted into high school. He thoroughly enjoyed casual games with his friends, and played them all well enough to be a welcome participant.

Thus, between study, exercise, games, and hanging with friends, Terry had his own ways of avoiding home, just as Julie did. Theresa never stopped harping at both of the kids about never being around, but when they both produced excellent grades and zero behavior problems, she could not marshal a reason to clamp down on their level of absence.

When Julie won her epic battle for her virginity, Terry was quick to see the backlash. As soon as the subject of college came up, he knew his parents would use it to punish Julie for beating them. He even talked to her about it, but she just could not believe even they would stoop to that. Perhaps because she was able to engage them, sometimes successfully, she did not have as realistic a view as he did of the evil inherent in their control mania. He saw it clearly, and it frightened him badly.

Getting girls was simple for Terry, with his looks and personality. He first had sex at fourteen, but it was a secret he held very, very closely. Uncharacteristically, he did not even tell Julie. He was afraid that in the heat of battle she would use the fact as an argument. She would not do it intentionally, but he saw that the combatants were not ruled by thought when they fought, and it was a problem he did not want to face.

Once initiated, Terry had sex with several different girls. A single, long-term girlfriend was not something he was interested in. The girls he slept with were all very good friends and remained so afterward. Since they were not promiscuous, his passion for secrecy suited them very well. The respect that came naturally to him made a big hit with his companions. His thirst for affection hit a responsive cord with his partners, and along with his well-developed cock, they were always quite satisfied.

Sex was Terry's only overt form of rebellion against his parents, and he was by no means obsessed with it. He did, in fact, feel more than a little guilt about it.

Through his sophomore year, Terry had gone out for basketball, simply because he could not take the hammering from Vince. In his junior year, he was no longer eligible for the JV, and he did not make the varsity. That did not fit well at all with Vince's plans for his son, and things became worse. Especially galling was the fact that Vince could not do anything about it. Terry just was not good enough. Julie's college battles also hit full stride about then, and the level of tension and strife was constantly high.

Although all of Terry's friends were among the better students and 'good kids', so pervasive were drugs on the high school campus that no social segment was immune. One of his sex partners, in a well-meaning attempt to ease his mental anguish, gave him a pill to try. The feeling of escape was very real, and he had to have more. Not well schooled in subtlety and subterfuge, Terry was caught in a remarkably short time.

The circumstances of Terry's arrest were puzzling. Pills were found in his locker at school, but he never took any into the building. An immediate blood test found the drug in his system, so the authorities shrugged off his protests that those from his locker were not his. They had heard it all the time. He had used the pills, there was no denying that, nor did he try to.

The other puzzling, frustrating fact was that the drug, illegal in their state, was a formulation sold under prescription in several foreign countries, and was not much more potent than Prozac. In fact, by the time Terry was to be released, it was no longer on the proscribed list.

There was absolutely no rational reason that Terry should have ended up with more than a slap on the wrist, except for an incredible combination of naivete, arrogance, hubris, and over-zealousness. He was caught at school by an assistant principal just assigned as the 'drug czar'. He was the first catch, and a very high profile one, at that. The official was anxious to flex her muscle and went after Terry as if he was the most hardened offender.

When things finally got to a judge, the judge saw the absurdity of the situation and did her best to give Terry an out. Unfortunately, the outs all involved counseling, something Vince seemed to have a pathological hatred for. When Vince refused to even allow Terry to go to counseling, the judge's hands were tied, and incarceration was the only option. The school official could have dropped the charges, but she was not at all inclined to do that.

The case worker honestly did her best to keep Terry out of confinement, but with both Vince and the school official being totally inflexible, there was nothing she could do. She was furious with Vince, trying again and again to convince him how bad the center was. Even if he believed her, he apparently saw it as deserved punishment for the horrible disgrace his son had brought down upon him.

Through all the turmoil, Theresa was almost in a trance. She could not believe it was actually happening. Obviously, she did not want her son taken away, but she was nearly as upset as Vince over his drug use. In this case, Vince dominated her completely, and she had no influence on the outcome.

Particularly troubling to Theresa was the caseworker's assessment of why Terry had taken the drugs. It was the first time an outsider had made reference to their home life as being unusual or aberrant in any way, and it shocked and angered her. Mostly, it knocked her off balance so that she was a passive spectator.

Thus, Terry Menconi, top student, never a discipline problem, having taken a total of about twenty pills, was sentenced to three months in the state juvenile drug rehab center, where no other first-time offender had ever been sent.

The center was more for punishment than rehabilitation, though no official would ever acknowledge that fact. The building itself was previously a reformatory, and had very much the prison look. There were, of course, counselors who had regularly scheduled sessions with the inmates. Caseworkers made regular weekly visits to spend at least a few minutes with their long lists of charges. Regular school classes were conducted, as well, but at a level that was absurdly easy for Terry.

The confusion and disorientation that enveloped Terry during the legal process gave way to a strange sort of calm over his first couple of weeks at the center. The surroundings were depressing, the food abysmal, and boredom was a serious problem. However, he finally identified the source of the calm as the absence of his parents. There really was no pressure of any kind.

He was a regular in the weight room, and did countless circuits on the small oval track around the upper level of the small gym. Although he did not make any close friends right away, he got acquainted with most of the other boys. He decided his three month sentence might not be the worst period of his life, after all.

Just as in a prison, the inmates at the center had their own hierarchy, with an acknowledge leader at the top. Also just as in prison, the 'boss' kid achieved his position by intimidation and/or a special relationship with the authorities. Everyone on the street knew that the director of the center liked boys. The current boss kid, either because he was so inclined or through an overreaching drive for dominance, accommodated the director, and was well rewarded.

The boss kid and his three acolytes occupied the two best rooms in the place. They were almost a cartoon version of a bully and his gang. The boss was a fairly tall, well-built kid, handsome and outgoing. His roommate was the gorilla, with the intelligence to match. The other two were the crafty little weasel and the average kid sycophant.

Since he put out for the Director, the boss kid felt he was owed his own jollies, and tended to take them where he chose. For helping him, his gang was exempt from his attentions, and could take their own piece from victims. Being handsome, personable, new, and apparently naive, Terry became a target of the boss kid.

It was late in his third week, just before lights out. Terry was using the late shower period, as were over half of the boys in his wing. It was his habit to wait until the end of the permissible time, then go right to sleep.

He never paid much attention to who else was in the shower, so he was caught completely by surprise when the boss kid barred his way as he went to leave. Looking around quickly, he saw that the attendant (guard, really) who was always supposed to be present was missing, and there was only the boss kid's gang. He knew then, that he was in a bad situation. When he saw the boss kid stroking his already hard cock, he knew what they had in mind.

"It's time for your initiation, Pretty Boy," the boss kid said with his ever-present sneer. At that moment, the gorilla and the sycophant grabbed him and forced him down onto his knees, with the weasel fluttering around as if he was in charge. The weasel was also erect, either from anticipation or from a voyeuristic thrill.

The boss kid knelt behind Terry and put one hand on his back as he used the other to aim his cock at Terry's anus. The gorilla was lying across Terry's upper back, his arms wrapped tightly around Terry, pinning his arms and forcing his face down on the rough, cracked tiles.

The mind works strangely in stressful situations, and even as he was struggling against the gorilla's mass, Terry recalled seeing other boys walking with great difficulty on a few occasions. He now knew the cause.

From early childhood, Terry had recognized his temper, and he had fought hard to subdue it. Every time a battle occurred at his home, the anger built until he felt he could hardly contain it. The urge to enter into the fray and vent that anger was almost overpowering. Yet, he never gave in. Instead, he would run until he could not take another step, or he would pound the weights until his arms quivered in exhaustion. One way or another, he bottled the rage.

Pinned to the rough, cold floor of that filthy shower room, about to be raped, a rage such as Terry had never known soared within him. Every injustice done to him by his parents had led to his current crisis, and all the blame focused into an detonation that he did not even try to restrain.

There are countless stories of people achieving impossible feats of strength because of fear or concern for a loved one. Rage can have the same effect, and it did for Terry, right then. He literally exploded up off of the floor with a roar, seemingly oblivious to the three boys holding him down.

The gorilla's grip was broken as Terry's arms spread to push off of the floor. With nothing to hold onto, the gorilla was thrown up and back, staggering toward the wall several feet away. Just as he neared the wall, he lost his footing on a puddle, and fell backwards. His head struck a faucet handle, and he sagged to the floor unconscious in a pool of spurting blood.

The sycophant had been doing his little part to hold Terry down, and was likewise thrown off by the force of Terry's surge. He was spun around and thrown against the other wall, which was much closer. He was stumbling and falling as he hit the wall, and he hit first with his knee. His arms were thrown up in reflex as he fell, and one elbow cracked as it absorbed the rest of the impact.

The boss kid had been kneeling straight up with his torso leaning over Terry's back. His cock was pointing upward from his crotch, so he had to lean to get the proper angle for penetration. When Terry exploded upward, his ass impacted squarely against the kid's testicles. As he was hurled backwards, he was already doubling over in pain and adding his scream to Terry's feral roar.

The weasel just screamed and tore out of the shower, only to be collared by the attendant, who had been hovering just around the corner, watching.

The whole thing took barely two seconds, and when it was over, Terry stood trembling with the remains of the rage, gasping to get control of his breathing. His back had been to the door, and as he turned, he saw the attendant standing slack-jawed, holding the weasel and surveying the carnage.

With a flash of inspiration, Terry stalked toward the attendant and stopped right in his face. "If you want to keep your job, and keep the Director's dirty secret from coming out, I was not here. You make up a story about them getting in a fight." With that, he strode off to his room, naked, and without a towel, his rage dissipating into shakes with every step.

It took hours for Terry's adrenalin levels to normalize, and when daylight approached, he still could not sleep. He had no idea what the morrow would bring, but he was strangely unconcerned. He somehow knew he was no longer under any threat of rape, and beyond that, he really didn't care.

Until the events of that night, the Center had been a retreat for Terry, almost a refuge. Most of the negatives had paled in comparison to the solitude and control of his own time that he had. There was no need to plan out where he was going to go that day to escape his parents. There was no fear of another screaming match breaking out just when he was trying to relax. Certainly, the rape attempt was cause for fear, but he instinctively knew he was no longer in danger. The society within the center was definitely based on survival of the fittest, and he had just established himself as one to be left alone.

The Director, and his response, was still an unknown, and Terry was worried about that. He had a pen and some paper in the room, and he got up and painstakingly wrote out his account of what happened in very small print. He included what he had heard of the relationship between the Director and the boss kid. He left room for a very clear signature and instructions that the information be kept secret unless something happened to him.

Julie had brought him a set of books when she and Glen visited after his first week inside. Taking the first in the series, he carefully opened a seam at the bottom of the back binding and worked his scrap of paper into the opening. The whole process was made difficult because he worked by just the sparse light through the small, barred window, unwilling to risk waking his roommate.

At breakfast, it was obvious that the attendant had not been able to make up a story, at least not for the inmates. Terry could tell just from the looks he got, that the rumor mill had spread the account, probably in exaggerated form. As he walked out the door, one boy that he knew relatively well softly said "Way to go, Hulk!" He was later to learn that the new nickname referred to him throwing his attackers off just like the Incredible Hulk of the TV series.

By coincidence, he was due to meet with his caseworker right after breakfast. He decided to say nothing to her about the incident. The main reason he wanted to preserve her naivete was to get the book out to Julie without suspicion. The caseworker was just a little puzzled at his request, but agreed to deliver the book. Otherwise, their session was uneventful.

Knowing that the story was on the street, Terry fully expected to be called to the Director's office. However, he needed to be sure the caseworker was away from the Center before that happened. He had found out that she had two more appointments after his before she left, and he needed to stall until then. He was not an accomplished malingerer, and perhaps that worked in his favor. When he went to the dispensary complaining of a severe headache and nausea, the LPN who worked there believed him. Perhaps she also had heard the stories and expected some aftereffects.

Through connivance and good fortune, it was well into the afternoon before Terry sat facing the Director. He was surprised that he was not more nervous. Perhaps because he knew he had done nothing wrong, he was less worried than he should have been. Having never met the Director, the only thing he knew was about the man's perversion.

"Well, Mr... Menconi, is it? You've got yourself into a serious mess here," the Director started off.

"Why? Because I refused to submit to rape?" Terry shot back, amazing himself at his boldness.

"Rape, nothing! You brutally attacked those four boys. One of them had to be taken to the hospital." The Director was obviously going to stick with the party line.

"I attacked the four of them, huh? While your attendant stood and watched, no doubt?"

"Don't try to be sarcastic with me, Menconi!"

Terry just stared at the man for a moment, then was infused with a feeling of nothing to lose. "Mr. Director, SIR," he said, sarcastically emphasizing the 'sir', "we both know exactly what happened, so unless you are recording this, what's the use of the bullshit?"

The man actually gasped slightly at that, and colored, obviously getting ready for another outburst. "No, don't bother getting all indignant," Terry continued, really on a roll. "I know damn well this could blow the lid off your little game, here, and you know it, too. If you decide to have me killed, it wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen to me, but the shit would really come down on you."

"Nothing would happen to me," the man objected. "Nobody outside knows what happened. What I say is the way it is." The director was now leaning intently toward Terry as he spoke, rather than sitting pompously and assuredly erect as he had at first. He was obviously not used to his intimidation efforts being rebuffed.

Terry was about to tell him that his account had gotten outside, but thought better of it, his jaw actually snapping shut just before the first words were spoken. It turned out to be an accidentally brilliant move. The Director saw, and knew exactly what it meant. The word had gotten outside.

Seeing the man pause, Terry picked up the initiative again. "I know you have to do something to me because the story is on the street. I did not tell anyone, but I guess that doesn't matter. Here's the deal. I will take a longer sentence, but no isolation. I just want my peace and quiet, and you will never hear about me again. Deal?"

"What makes you think you can dictate terms to me?" The Director demanded. Terry did not respond, and after about a minute of silence, he spat out. "You get three extra months. You will be left alone. Now get the Hell out of here!"

News that Terry's sentence had been doubled for fighting had hit Theresa very, very hard. Its impact was even greater because it came when there was no longer any doubt that Julie was gone for good. Vince had done his best not to react to the news. He was not even sure he believed it: Terry, fighting? It did not square with the weakness that had gotten the kid into drugs in the first place.

Once again they drove to the center to try to see Terry. Once again he refused to see them. Vince had only reluctantly agreed to go, after extreme pleading from Theresa. On the way home he harangued her about not listening to him. It was obvious that he had not the faintest idea about how she felt about her children, and how their loss affected her.

Apparently the Director feared the consequences of Terry's shower incident because Terry was left alone for the remainder of his sentence. It could not be said that he enjoyed his time, but it was strangely restoring for him. He had the laughable classes, the counseling sessions, his workouts, and solitude.

Julie and Glen visited again shortly after the attack. Terry told her "Julie, if anything happens to me her, that book I sent back is the clue. I'm asking you not to look for anything as long as I'm OK. Will you do that for me, please!" Julie, shaken by his words and his serious tone, nevertheless agreed.

Solitude tends to promote deep thought, and it was certainly true for Terry. Much of his thought centered around his parents. Perhaps it was due to loneliness that he would not admit to, but he began having second thoughts about his total rejection of them. He honestly did not want to ever see them again, but his quiet hours were troubled by guilt. Perhaps it was his moral obligation to at least communicate with them.

He had just about decided to meet with his folks when Julie and Glen visited with news of her pregnancy and their marriage. Their appearance stunned him. Glen's trademark energy and positive 'aura' were gone. When Terry asked about the scholarship, Glen could not answer and had to turn away.

Terry could see in his sister's eyes that she had done it on purpose, and that the guilt would never leave her. He also understood exactly why she had done it, for he shared the same desperation. Any softening of feeling for their parents stopped right then.

Julie honored her pledge to continue visiting her mother. Each week, it was a puzzle to work out the right time. Several times, Theresa had to meet Julie for lunch near her work. Neither left their meetings feeling better.

Theresa cried every time they parted because she could tell there was a barrier between them. Over the last few months she had become more perceptive of mother-daughter relationships around her, and it was killing her inside. Every example she saw filled her with longing and regret: longing for that kind of fellowship with Julie, and regret that she herself had made it impossible.

For Julie, each meeting left her stressed, torn between hatred and guilt. She knew she would be better off never seeing her mother again, but she had committed. The times when she could not seek solace from sex with Glen afterward were pure agony until she could get with him.

Something else weighed heavily on Julie. As Terry's release date approached, Theresa was more and more distraught over his threats to get arrested again. In fact, it became almost all she could talk about. Julie loved her brother and feared for his future. She felt that her own life was now ruined, and she hated to see the same thing happening to the brother she had tried for her whole life to protect. She did not even have a home she could offer him. Besides, she and Glen would probably not be considered proper guardians. Terry was still six months from being eighteen.

Betty sensed the increasing tension and sadness in Julie. At first, she thought it was just some pregnancy symptoms, but she finally noticed that it was worse after every meeting with her mother. When Betty confronted her, Julie broke down and told her the problem. Aghast at Terry's refusal to go home, she questioned Julie for a long time about the reasons.

Julie had talked about her brother often, but had never described him so thoroughly. Once started, her deep love for him showed through clearly. The picture of a gentle, thoughtful, intelligent boy seemed almost too good to be true, yet Betty knew Julie was not one to exaggerate.

After they had talked about Terry for half an hour, Betty asked Julie to wait for her to return. She went to talk to her husband Alan, although Julie did not know that. Many minutes later, both of them came back and addressed Julie.

"Julie," Alan told her, "we will let Terry stay here, if your parents will agree."

"What? How? I mean... where?"

"I know the basement isn't ready yet, and I apologize for not getting at it. If he is willing, he can move in down there. Maybe he can help finish it. When it's done, you and Glen can move down there as you had planned, and Terry can have your room."

"Oh, my God!" Julie exclaimed, and broke into tears. She didn't think she could love these people any more than she did, but they kept giving her more and more reasons. And every new act of kindness or generosity sharpened the spears of guilt over her betrayal of them and their dreams for their son.

"Before you say anything to your mother, though," Betty cautioned her, "we had better meet with Terry and see if he is agreeable."

"I think the best way to do it," Alan said, "is for him to officially move home, but actually stay here."

It took intervention from the caseworker to get Betty and Alan permission to visit Terry, but it was finally arranged. They wanted to visit him alone, but in the end, the caseworker had to be present.

He was flabbergasted by their offer, but accepted without hesitation. Julie had told him all about the Vosses and the love they had shown her. His mind practically screamed for a little of that for himself. He had experienced it in some of his friends' homes, and the contrast with the pressure and strife of his own home always weighed heavily on him.

Terry made one absolute stipulation: upon his release, he was not to have any contact with his parents. Without that guarantee, he would just do whatever it took to get his sentence extended six more months until he was eighteen. Betty and Alan were shocked at the vehemence of his demand, but the caseworker had heard it before. She agreed to pick him up at release and take him to the Vosses'.

No sooner had they started home than Betty told Alan "Honey, we have a big problem."

"Oh, I don't think he will be any trouble," Alan assured her. "I think Julie is right - he's a good kid."