Dishonesty Policy

1996

PJ was honest. He understood the value of integrity. He called a spade a spade. His lies were all obvious and silly. As such, he would never consider cheating on anything.

None of the others in his English class had such qualms. It all started when a girl asked if she could use his computer since she didn't have one at home. He felt that it was alright, as long as Dad knew upfront that this was happening and that it wouldn't turn into anything more. When she asked him to leave the room, he could have been suspicious—he should have been suspicious—but he wasn't. He knew that he couldn't work with people breathing down his neck, so why should this be any different?

What he didn't know was that she printed out his essay and made copies for everyone else in the class. PJ wasn't too pleased with his own paper, but he turned it in. Everyone else turned their identical copies in one by one. Everything was going smoothly until the teacher said, "Okay, class. Did you think I wouldn't notice that all of you cheated?"

"Cheated?" PJ asked. "But I…"

"All of you turned in the exact same paper!" the teacher yelled furiously.

PJ gasped. He said, "Excuse me? I was the one who wrote the paper…"

"No," said another kid, "I was the one who wrote the paper."

"No, I was," said another. Soon everyone in the classroom was claiming he or she wrote the real paper.

"No, really," PJ said, his voice pleading, "I wrote it!"

"Sure," another kid said. "Yeah right."

"I did," PJ said, quietly.

"Now, that's quite enough of that," the teacher said. "I'm failing all of you."

The class all groaned. "What?" PJ asked, his eyes distraught.

"And I think I'm going to call your parents too," the teacher said.

The class groaned again. "Uh… excuse me, could you… umm… please not?" PJ asked very nervously.

The teacher looked at him sternly. "You are not in a position to negotiate with me, PJ. If you didn't want me to call your house, you shouldn't have cheated."

"But I didn't…" he whined.

"Yeah," another student said, "It's not fair! I didn't cheat!"

PJ ran out of the room trying his damnedest not to burst into tears. He ran into Max. Literally. They both fell on their butts.

"Peej?" Max asked, when he saw PJ's face. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, Max…" PJ said, "They all copied me."

"What?" Max asked.

"They all copied me, Max," PJ said, "I worked so hard on the paper and everyone in class copied off of me."

"Well, did they get in trouble?" Max asked.

"There were twenty-four identical papers, of course they got in trouble," PJ snapped. He added in a whimper, "And so did I."

"Did you talk to the teacher about it?" Max asked.

"I tried," PJ said, "You'd be surprised at how many people who are willing to cheat are also willing to lie about it. So of course, he thinks I'm lying too."

"But you haven't ever lied in your life!" Max responded.

"Not true," corrected PJ.

"But you haven't ever lied well in your life!" Max edited.

"Yeah, but he doesn't know that!" PJ said, "And he said he was gonna call Dad, Max. Max, when Dad finds out he's going to choke me to death… after he's done tearing me to shreds… and-and…" PJ was really scared. Max thought if he trembled any harder the news would report an earthquake in the region.

Max slapped him across the face screaming, "PJ, relax!"

PJ whimpered, "How?"

"Look, your dad's got nothing on you. He's a liar and a cheater all the time, right? So how can he criticize you for cheating?" Max asked.

"That's lovely logic Max. Just lovely. You just missed one small tiny little detail," PJ said caustically.

"What?" Max asked.

"My dad is a hypocrite," PJ responded. "If I use that logic on him, he'll say…" PJ put on a false-bass which really sounded more like a stiff tenor, "'That doesn't count on account o' it's me and not you. NOW LET ME TEACH YOU A LESSON.'" PJ dropped the voice. "And then he'll kill me and give you the wrong directions to the funeral."

"PJ," Max said, "Your dad is not going to kill you."

"Easy for you to say," PJ muttered, "Your dad's a saint."

"Well," Max said, glancing at his watch, "Look at the time! Gotta run, see ya Peej!" He left. PJ sighed.

PJ walked toward his house and very slowly and cautiously approached the door. He opened it just a smidge and was greeted by an all-too-familiar bellow. He followed the sound and approached his father, trembling. Pete looked at him with a scowl. PJ pouted and whimpered.

"You have some explaining to do, Mister!" Pete said, putting his hands on his waist and glowering.

"I know you think I cheated but I didn't, Dad! I swear I…" PJ pleaded. Pete grabbed PJ by the arm and dragged him upstairs.

He shoved PJ into his room. PJ expected him to lock the door and leave, but Pete was still in PJ's room, looking under the bed. He found a red bound book with pictures of PJ and Max in it, as well as some letters to each other and some scraps of a comic they were working on together. "Come on, PJ," Pete said sneering, as he walked back down carrying the book. PJ followed. Pete walked out the door and started up the grill.

"Dad," PJ said, "Please, please, please, don't burn that!"

"I'm sorry, PJ," Pete said, "But you're very bad. And you deserve to be punished."

"This is cruel and unusual, even for you, Dad!" PJ screamed.

"Well, you should have thought of that before you cheated!" Pete yelled back.

"If you love me at all, you won't burn it!" PJ said, his eyes full of tears.

"I'm sorry, PJ," Pete said, with a trace of pity in his voice, "But this is for your own good." He dropped the book into the flaming coals. "Now, if you ever defy me again, it won't be this easy."

PJ screamed, "I hate you!" and ran back into the house.

The next day, Max was concerned when he saw the bags around PJ's eyes. "Hey, dude, how'd you sleep?" he asked.

"Horribly," PJ responded in exhaustion. "I cried all night."

"Seriously?" Max asked. "What did your dad do to you anyway?"

"He burned it, Max," PJ responded, still exhausted.

"Burned what?" Max asked.

"The scrapbook," PJ responded. "He burned the scrapbook we made when we were eleven."

"Oh, dude," Max said.

"All my favorite memories were in that book. I remember all those times that we worked together as best buds. Our zany schemes that I always wanted to avoid but ended up being hilarious in retrospect. I still remember when you taught me what happiness felt like…"

"PJ," Max said, "I know it's rough but you can't be bringing a big fat wet raincloud wherever you go… uh… no offense."

"None taken," PJ said, "But Max… that year changed my life. Without you I'm sure I'd be shooting up schools by now. Or insane. Or dead."

"It's okay," Max said. "Look, your dad burned the scrapbook, so what? The point is I'm still here to be your friend. I'm here for you, buddy, no matter what."

"I'm just real scared of what he'll do next time I'm in trouble," PJ whimpered, "He might make it impossible for me to ever see you again. Well, it was fun while it lasted."

"No!" Max screamed, "It's not okay! You worked your butt off writing a paper and your classmates stole it without your permission and because our fate with a hilarious sense of humor gave the sweetest kid in the whole world a dad who makes Roxanne's gorilla of a father look fucking perfect, you probably got punished much more severely than any of the kids in the class for something you didn't even do in the first place."

"Max," PJ said, "That's just how it is! Some people are born lucky. Some people aren't. It's not a matter of merit. It's about power, Max. I don't have any! I am the bottom of the bottom. I've accepted my fate long ago. I'm destined to be miserable forever."

"No," Max said, "It's not fair. It's not fair that people can treat you like shit and get away with it while you get punished for no reason. I'm going to go demand the teacher believe you!" He ran off, leaving PJ.

"Yeah," PJ said, "That's gonna work…"

Max confronted PJ's English teacher. "Real nice, dude," he said.

"What?" the teacher asked.

"Flunking your one honest student along with all the liars," Max said.

"You're friends with PJ Pete, right?" the teacher responded.

"Yeah, we've been best friends for three years," Max answered. "And in that time he's proven to me time and time again he doesn't lie. He won't lie. He can't lie. Every time I thought he was lying to me, I was wrong. I also know that he's the most pathetic person I've ever met; a victim through and through. People just think he's easy to screw over, so they screw him over."

"Even if he wrote the paper, he still allowed others to copy off of him," the teacher answered.

"That's just it," Max said, "He didn't. They did it, without his permission, against his will, and got him in trouble along with everyone else."

"While I admire your devotion to your friend," the teacher said, "I don't see why I should take your word for this any more than his."

"Because I use him," Max said. "As much as I hate to admit it… he's a better friend to me than I could ever be to him. But I have to try here." Max turned to leave. "Oh, and by the way, his dad you told? He's an abusive asshole who makes his life a living hell and seriously fucked up his head."

"Language," the teacher said impatiently.

"He's an abusive 'bully' who makes his life 'miserable' and seriously 'messed' up his head," Max corrected caustically. He sighed. "I may have the world's dorkiest dad but at least I can feel safe going home to him every night." Max walked out the door. The teacher was left with his thoughts.

PJ attended English class, moping. The teacher pulled him aside. "PJ?" he asked.

"What?" PJ asked. "Am I in more trouble?"

"No," the teacher said. "Less. Your friend and I had a talk and I came to the conclusion you didn't lie. I'm giving you an A."

"My paper was C-worthy, at best," PJ said.

"Don't say such things about yourself," the teacher said, stroking his hair. "I'm here if you need me. Remember that."

"Oh," PJ said.

"It wasn't your place, Max," PJ said, giving Max an angry look.

"Look, what's the big deal? You got an A out of it, and now he's willing to look out for you," Max answered.

"Pity points… I got freaking pity points," PJ said. "You're such a loser we feel like we have to give you charity. Besides, Max, how would you like it if I started badmouthing your dad?"

"You love my dad," Max answered.

"I know I do, but that's not the point!" PJ shouted.

"My dad is harmless," Max answered.

"That's not the point, either," PJ said.

"You wouldn't badmouth anyone," Max answered.

"Look, Max, my point is, if your dad was more like mine… would you be happy if I told an arbitrary person without your permission?" PJ asked.

"Yes," Max answered, "Because then I could get out of my nasty house."

"Look, if it were only that simple," PJ said. "But it's not."

"Okay, PJ, tell me one reason I shouldn't have told," Max said, crossing his arms. "I'm waiting. If I were in your shoes, I would have told someone a long time ago."

"I did tell someone once," PJ said.

"Really?" Max asked.

"Yeah, back when I was in first grade," PJ responded.

1987

Young PJ walked in to see his mother nursing his baby sister, Pistol. Pistol had fallen asleep and Peg was putting her to bed. She noticed that PJ was crying a lot.

"Sweetheart!" she shouted. "What's wrong?" She knelt down to his level, pulled out a tissue and tried to dab his tears away. She kissed him on the cheek a few times.

"Mommy? Why does Daddy hate me?" he asked.

Peg wasn't sure how to answer this question so she remained silent as her upset child elaborated. "I don't know what I did to make him hate me, but I'm really sorry and I don't want to do it anymore. I love my Daddy and I want him to love me."

"Oh, PJ," she said, sweetly, touching his shoulder, "Daddy doesn't hate you; he loves you. He just can't show it right."

"But that doesn't make sense," PJ answered, "He loves you and Pistol just fine. It's just me he hates. No matter what I do he's always mean to me! He keeps calling me names and saying that when I grow up he's gonna turn me into a mule like those boys in Pinocchio. And he keeps saying he'll hurt me if I touch the toys he buys me. And he always yells at me for no reason."

"Your father is not exactly a nice man," Peg said, "But he truly does love you, know this much."

"No he doesn't," PJ screamed. "Unless people who love each other are always mean to each other, in which case… you don't love me."

"PJ, of course I love you," Peg said, "But I'm sure your father cares far more deeply about you than you realize."

PJ cuddled closer to Peg. "Don't die. Don't ever leave me, Mommy. Don't leave me alone with Daddy. Because he told me if you did, he would sell me on the black market."

"Okay," Peg said, getting furious, "That does it. PJ, go to bed, sweetheart; Mommy'll be back shortly to give you a kiss."

PJ didn't go to bed, but instead followed Peg and peered down the stairs where she was altercating with Pete.

"You're breaking his heart, Peter! You could be causing him serious long-term damage!" Peg said. "Stop it. Now."

"I'm just trying to give him a thicker skin. PJ's a pansy to the fifteenth degree. I just want him to be able to grow up strong," Pete said.

"Strong? Spending half his childhood in tears because he thinks his daddy doesn't love him is going to make him strong? Please, enlighten me how."

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger!" Pete said, folding his arms. "And PJ's not going to keep crying. He'll get used to it!"

"All you're doing is making it impossible for him to trust you," Peg said, "PJ will no doubt face persecution and bullying outside of the home, but you don't have to add to it. We want him to know that he can come to us every time he needs something, but right now… I'm worried he'll run away or… or worse."

"Peg," Pete said reassuringly, "He's just a little kid. He'll get better."

"He certainly will if you stop treating him like a plague-ridden rat!" Peg shouted.

"Well maybe I would treat PJ better if he actually came out the way I wanted him to!" Pete yelled. Peg glowered at him. PJ's heart sank as he heard this. He ran to his room, even unhappier than he already was.

It was just another day in the classroom. Most of the students were playing with their friends and PJ was off on his own. "Hey!" one of the kids said, "My dad bought me a new fire engine!"

"My dad took me to the zoo the other day," said another. Soon there was a group of children congregating around PJ's desk (though paying him no mind) sharing one by one what their fathers had done for them that week.

"Hey, why isn't PJ saying anything?" one of the kids asked.

"He can't talk," another person answered.

"No, he can talk," said another, "He just doesn't talk."

"PJ, come on," another kid coaxed, "Tell us what your dad did for you."

"What's wrong?" another kid asked in a condescending manner, "Doesn't your dad love you?"

PJ bit his lower lip and averted his gaze. He started to weep softly. "Oh… you have to be kidding. Your dad really doesn't love you?" the kid said. All of the kids started to make fun of him. The teacher noticed something was amiss.

"What's going on?" she asked. All of the children sat back down in their seats and PJ was left alone.

"They were all making fun of me because my dad doesn't love me," PJ said.

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true," she said, "I'm sure your dad does love you very much."

"No! No, he said so himself I came out wrong," PJ said. "He hates me and he's really mean."

"Does he hit you?" the teacher asked in concern.

"Well, no…" PJ responded. "But he threatens to if I'm not a good boy."

"Oh, well, as long as he doesn't hit you," the teacher responded. "I think maybe you should try talking to him."

"That won't work," PJ answered. "He always yells at me. And he never listens to me."

"I'm sure that deep down he really does love you and just can't show it right," the teacher said.

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" he asked. "My dad shows love to my mom and my sister! Just not me! His problem isn't that he can't show love right, it's that he doesn't love me. I've been saying this every time but no one is listening!" he exclaimed.

1996

"After that," PJ ended, "I just figured no matter who heard my story they would dismiss it. So I just stopped mentioning it."

Max was feeling hugely sympathetic to his friend and wanted to comfort him, but didn't know if it was the right time.

"That's why I didn't want you to tell," PJ said. "My problems aren't anyone's business and I need to stop trying to make them other people's business."

"PJ…" Max said, "I had no idea you felt that way. I'm sorry I did it without telling you. However, I am not sorry I did it at all."

"Why?" PJ asked.

"Because you're wrong. Your problems are everyone's business. They make hotlines for people like you. There's an entire government agency dedicated to protecting people like you," Max said.

"Sure there is," PJ said.

"Okay, maybe they haven't been very active around here, but they exist. And maybe your teacher is calling them right now."

Pete paced around the living room nervously. PJ came into the house. "I'm home," he said. He noticed what Pete was doing. "Dad? What's wrong?"

"The baby snatchers are coming," Pete said. He put a sheet over PJ. "Here, hide."

"What are you talking about, Dad?" PJ pulled off the sheet.

"The sociable services called me," Pete answered, "Said they're coming to 'check on me'."

"The sociable services…? OH!" PJ said. He was starting to smile just a little.

"Wipe that silly grin off your face!" Pete said, "This is serious! They'll snatch you and put you in prison!"

"They won't be taking me to prison," PJ said. "However, who knows? Maybe I'll tell them something that gets you sent to prison."

"PJ, I swear to god, you can't tell them I did anything illegal," Pete answered.

"Dad, I plan to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth," PJ responded.

"PJ, if you tell them the truth they'll take you away!" Pete responded.

"I want to be taken away," PJ answered matter-of-factly. "Besides, the last time I 'lied,' you burnt up my cherished scrapbook. So that means you don't want me to lie."

"PJ, there's a difference between cheating in school and protecting your father," Pete said. "Please lie to the sociable services."

"I'm not going to lie to anyone who might take me away from you," PJ said. "Besides… if what Mom and my first grade teacher said was true… they won't take me away because you love me."

"I do," Pete answered.

"Then why'd you burn it, Dad?" PJ asked.

"I was trying to teach you a lesson," Pete said, "But it looks like you gleaned the wrong one."

They turned their heads when the doorbell rang. PJ practically skipped over to the door. He opened it to see two tall men, one with glasses and a mustache.

"Hi, I'm Nick, and this is Chris. We're from the social services," said the mustachioed man.

"Oh, hello," PJ said, "Please come in."

"Can we talk to you?" Chris asked. "We heard there were some… issues."

"Oh, yeah," PJ said. "You mean issues like Dad? Of course…" He led them up to his room. Pete began to sweat nervously.

"PJ, don't tell them any…" Pete started to say as he began following them.

Nick blocked the way. "Please, we want his unbiased testimony. You'll have to stay out of the way," he said. Pete complied begrudgingly, but he sweated nervously.

PJ sat on his bed with the agents. "Could you give a brief description of how your father takes care of you?" Nick asked.

"Yeah, sure," PJ said. "He takes care of me by ignoring me half the time and spending the other half bullying me."

"Bullying you?" Chris asked. "Could you please elaborate?"

"He always calls me names, yells at me for no reason, and threatens to injure me. Oh, and he forces me to do a million things I don't want to," PJ said.

"Such as…" Nick said.

"Oh, you know," he said, shrugging. "Play sports, go on outdoorsy excursions, be his personal slave…"

"Wait, what?" Nick and Chris asked in unison.

"Oh, yeah," PJ said. "I have to do all the chores, even really long ones, and he usually doesn't let me take breaks or compensate me in any way. But anyway, I wasn't finished; he also…"

"No, that's quite alright, I think we have all the information we need," Nick said.

"Oh, I knew it," PJ said, frowning.

"Kid, I'm sorry, but I'm sure you'll be much better off in foster care," Nick said. "As much as we hate breaking up families, we… can't overlook this any longer."

"Wait," PJ said, "You are taking me away?"

"Kid," Nick said, "We don't stop testimony early for any other reason. There might be something crucial that hasn't been mentioned yet."

"I…" PJ said, choking, "I… thought that you would dismiss me for complaining about such small problems."

"It's our duty to protect you from harm," Chris responded, putting a hand on PJ's shoulder. "At best, your father would have to have parenting counseling for the name-calling and threats. But forcing you into servitude… somehow I don't think counseling will help."

"You… you took what I said seriously…" PJ said. His eyes welled up with tears. "Thank you," he whispered. He reached out and hugged Chris and Nick. "Thank you so much," he repeated louder.

Nick and Chris escorted PJ down the stairs. "Chris," Nick said, "Take the kid to the car. I'll talk to the father." He found Pete.

"Mr. Pete, I'm sorry, but we can't leave your son with you anymore," Nick said. "It pains me to say so, but…"

"LIAR!" Pete shouted, and then he punched Nick in the face. "You want to take my baby away because you're evil baby snatchers."

"Goodness!" Nick said, rubbing his nose. "You're so violent!"

"Of course I'm violent! I'm really mad!" Pete shouted. "You can't take my son away!"

"Actually, you're really not helping your case. At all," Nick said. "Your son is much safer elsewhere."

"What? Do you think I hit my son? I know I can be a little rough around the edges sometimes, but I promise I would never, ever, hit my son because he's my baby and I love him," Pete shouted loudly.

PJ heard these words, and rushed into the house. Chris followed after him, but he saw that PJ had gone into the center of the room, hugging Pete.

"That's all I ever wanted to hear, Dad," PJ whispered.

"Hold it, hold it, hold it!" Nick said, "This man has been enslaving you."

"And I'm sure he will continue to do so," PJ said, "Which is why I'm not staying."

"But PJ, I just said I loved you," Pete said.

"Yeah," PJ said. He turned to his father, and said, "There's an old proverb that goes like this: 'If you love something, set it free. If it doesn't return, it was never really yours in the first place.'"

"Tell you what, sociable services, howsabout this? You let PJ stay with his buddy our neighbor for a few weeks or however long it takes me to take your parental counseling thing, and then when I pass, you let him come back to me?" Pete asked.

Chris said, "That would be up to PJ."

"I can live with that arrangement," PJ said, happy that his father was willing to change his behavior for him.

The social services continued to monitor PJ for several weeks after he was returned to his house, and they were all convinced that Pete had changed for the better. Of course, the moment they stopped watching he reverted to his old behavior. Still, PJ felt slightly less unhappy throughout all of this based in one thought. PJ was finally convinced that his mother and first grade teacher were right, and that his father did actually love him.

He just didn't have a very honest form of love.