The Christmas Throwaway by RJ Scott

offer in return.
    "Zach, look at me," she said, and he raised his gaze to hers. "You now have two options. You can go back downstairs, where I promise you no one is thinking any less of you, and get the whole seeing them all face-to-face over and done with… Or you can wait until the morning to do it."
    Zach was stricken; he didn't want to face them now.
    He was embarrassed and ashamed. He wanted to hide here, but if he left it for another eight hours, he knew he wouldn't sleep, and the shame he felt inside would just build and build until he could do nothing but run. He stood up, deciding he needed to be strong. So he preceded her down the stairs, trying to look as normal as possible.
    Ben was waiting at the bottom, pacing in the hall.
    He stopped and gazed up at Zach, his face a mask of misery. Not anger, but real anguish.
    "God, Zach, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't think. I was just excited. I should have left everything alone 'til later. It was all too much. I really… I'm just… I'm sorry."
    He waited, chewing on his lower lip, his eyes wide with questions.
    Zach stopped in front of him. "I'm sorry too. I'm sorry I'm not ready to listen yet." Ben closed his eyes, 101
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    stepping that one step forward that meant he could touch Zach, resting his hands on Zach's arms, his face tipped up to look into Zach's eyes.
    "I know you aren't ready, and it's okay. We can talk when you are, doesn't matter if it's five hours, five days or five years."
    Zach's eyes widened, five years? He nodded and
    rested his forehead against Ben's aware of suddenly how cold he was feeling, cold to the core. "I'm cold," he said simply, closing his eyes as Ben wrapped strong arms around his thin frame. He allowed himself to be guided to the sofa where Donna was sitting, watching the whole interaction between her son and the boy he had pulled from the snow. She reached out and held Zach's hand, not giving him the chance to look away or apologize or anything else he was considering.
    "Apparently we should avoid playing against you in Trivial Pursuit, or so Ben says…"

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    The Christmas Throwaway
    RJ Scott

Chapter 9
    More by luck than judgment, Zach had scooped up
    the paperwork Ben had given him, along with the local paper and other assorted magazines, to tidy up for Donna.
    This led to him sitting with a coffee in hand in the peace of the kitchen, thumbing through each form and prospectus. The course he wanted, creative writing, stared up at him from page eight of the prospectus. He thought it through and put a piece of paper to one side to make a list.
    Lists were good. They summarized clearly in his brain why he couldn't go to college; no money, no accommodations, no car, and no graduation.
    However, he realized that as he wrote the negatives, he was also adding counter arguments providing
    possibilities that would allow him to go. It was those reasons that seemed to jump out at him. Funding? He researched funding; he could get some. Work? He could do stacking shelves to start with. As for his graduation, Ben was right. The example questions for the GED were such that he could answer them in his sleep. Home schooled he might be, dumb he wasn't.
    Then Ben's offer… Live here, or move in with me, I have a house with a spare room, I have a car I don't use, 103
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    we can split the bills. The store needs a clerk. I can loan you whatever money you need. You can owe me if it makes you feel better…
    Ben's words were added to the list, little BH's next to each point, like just the initials being there meant Ben would be able to help. He managed to navigate as much Internet as he was able. He remembered a very different version of Windows than the one in front of him, and Google seemed to throw up millions of hits for the words college and funding. Still, he managed it, picking up speed on the way.
    He couldn't make any phone calls. For the most
    part, colleges were on intercession.