Without their father protecting them, your mom. Hawk says she found other victims, got them to come forward, built a case. I stare, stunned. Mom did this. Hawk nods.
She's a fighter, your mom. And she was right about one thing. Violence wasn't the answer. He looks at me. You were right, too.
After the hearing, we wait outside. The Finch brothers emerge with their mother. They see me. Stop cold. Go ahead.
Hawk tells me. Say what you need to say. I wheel forward. Face my tormentor. I'm sorry about your dad.
I say. It's not what I planned to say, but it's true. No kid should lose their father, even a corrupt one. Cory looks away. Dylan stares at his shoes.
Why are you here? Their mother asks, her voice trembles. To see justice, I say. Not revenge. She flinches.
My boys have lost everything. Their father, their future. Isn't that enough for you people? Mrs. Finch, Hawk says, stepping forward.
Your sons hurt a disabled child repeatedly. They left him bleeding on the pavement. They broke his wheelchair. They mocked his pain. His voice is calm.
They deserve consequences. They're just boys, she protests. They're old enough to know better, Hawk replies. And so are you. She has no answer for that.
As they walk away, Cory looks back at me once. His eyes meet mine. There's something new there. Not anger, not hate, maybe shame. Feel better?
Hawk asks as we head back to his bike. I think about it. Yes and no. I'm glad they're facing consequences. But I'm sad, too, because because they lost their dad.
Because their mom is sad. I struggle to explain. Because it didn't have to be this way. Hawk rests his hand on my shoulder. That's called compassion, Eli.
It's a rare thing. Is that good? It's very good, he says, and very hard. Most people lose it when they're hurt. He studies my face.
You haven't. Does that make me weak? No, Hawk says firmly. It makes you strong in the ways that matter most. We ride back to the clubhouse in silence, my mind full of the courtroom, the Finch brothers, their mother's tears.
Hawk was going to hurt them. Maybe badly, but he didn't. Because of me. Because I spoke up. That feels like power.
Real power. More than fear or violence could ever give. At the clubhouse, mom waits on the porch of our house. She stands as we approach. How did it go?
She asks. Eli handled himself well. Hawk says, "You'd have been proud. " Mom smiles at me. I'm always proud. That night, we have dinner in the main clubhouse.