Where I'm from, having a dream doesn't make you smart.

Pre-pilot. Multi-chapter.

So why did Ryan go boosting cars with Trey that night? Didn't he use to be the good boy? What happened?

Rating PG13 for now, R later.

DISCLAIMER: Characters etc... are property of Fox and Schwartz. I ain't got nothin'.

Thanks to BonnieD for beta-ing this.

Please review - feedback really appreciated.

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Chapter 1: High hopes

Ryan woke with a start just before his alarm clock went and slammed the button down before it had a chance to beep. He fell back onto his pillow, his heart beating too fast, his breathing ragged. He couldn't for the life of him remember why he'd woken up so abruptly, but he was already calming down, so it couldn't have been that bad. He stared at the ceiling and decided he'd give himself a few minutes to relax before getting up. He felt he could afford to these days.

Today – Monday – made it thirty-eight days since his mom's last bender – according to her, since her last drink. And Ryan was prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt. He was confident she wasn't drinking behind his back. He had become really good at spotting that after years of failed attempts at drying up. This time it looked really promising. He was almost willing to believe that their life was taking a turn for the better.

It was never that bad in the mornings anyhow. Ryan rarely went to bed much earlier than Dawn, and the walls of the house were so thin, he would have heard her if she tried to sneak a drink in the night. He also checked her bedroom over regularly when she was out to make sure she wasn't hiding booze in her closet. Mornings were not the problem. The real test was coming home in the evenings.

He would hold his breath as he turned the key in the lock, willing himself to be calm, every muscle in his body tensing up as he entered the house and scanned it. Even worse were the evenings where she was working the late shift at the diner and Ryan would pretend to watch TV or do his homework with one eye on the door, staying up until midnight to make sure he was there when she came in. Until he saw her he wouldn't know whether or not she'd stayed on the wagon. He could tell quickly though, even before smelling her breath, if she had been drinking. He had been reading the signs for the better part of a decade and even his mother knew there was no way she could fake being sober with him. She could hoodwink Trey, maybe, especially if he was wasted, because he never looked at her that closely. Ryan did.

But as the days clocked by, the tension eased, and he was letting his routine slacken. It had been at least four days since he'd last checked the house for alcohol. Five weeks on, Ryan was beginning to think this might be the real thing. His mom hadn't stuck it that long since she had started drinking seriously. Since his father had been sent to jail and they'd moved from Fresno, nearly ten years ago.

It had gotten to the point where Ryan was no longer always on his guard. He was even considering the possibility of going out the coming weekend – something he had given up in a discreet show of support that he wasn't sure she'd noticed. He was also getting a little tired of all the studying he was putting in to fill the time, of being always on his best behaviour. And of watching the same crappy shows on TV.

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So Monday morning, Ryan felt pretty good. It was amazing how much easier life was when it was just the two of them – no AJ to mess him up, no Trey to drive Dawn up the wall – and when his mother was sober, single, and holding down a job. She was just a waitress at a local diner – but the job was good. The owner was friendly, the tips decent, and more often than not, Ryan could count on a free meal if he dropped by. All in all, his life was starting to sound quite normal – and he had had precious little experience with normal. It was a new feeling for Ryan, one that he could get used to. He hoped he would get a chance.

Then again, if he was going to be leading a normal life – maybe it was time to deal with some of the issues he had been postponing until now.

The first letter from school mentioning upcoming SATs had gone straight into the Atwoods' trashcan. Ryan didn't even bother handing it over to his mom. When it was followed a week later by another one, with a note from the school counsellor suggesting he give it a go, Ryan found himself in two minds. He had been carrying the letter in his schoolbag for three days now.

It was time to do something about it.

He got out of bed and slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower. Dawn was drinking coffee when Ryan joined her in the living room, letter in hand. He felt very nervous, not least because he didn't have much experience in dealing with that kind of situation. Most letters from school dealt with reports about his fights, or his truancy. When his mother ever got to see them – when he hadn't been quick enough to get the mail – it was either duck out or get yelled at. Ryan could be very quick on his feet when he had to. But this was different. And she was different.

He walked slowly to the kitchen counter, placed the letter on it and stepped back, eyeing his mom warily. He wished it didn't look so crumpled and so obviously opened and resealed. She was never going to buy that he hadn't read it.

"What's that, Ryan?"

"Letter from school, Mom. I was going to give it to you and I forgot," he mumbled. He wanted to get that part over and done with as soon as possible.

She picked it up and smoothed the envelope. "You want to tell me what it's about? Since you've obviously opened it."

Ryan just shrugged, keeping his eyes on her until she sighed and pulled the letter out to read it.

"SATs, huh? Isn't that what you need to get into college? What does your counsellor think, we're made of money?" But she didn't sound as abrasive as the old Dawn would have.

He allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. "Read it, mom. Mr Salazar put something about scholarships in our area."

She frowned. "Don't you have to be top of your class to get a scholarship? Does your Mr Salazar think you've got what it takes?"

Ryan shrugged. "I don't know, Mom. I guess." He chewed on his lower lip. "Look, you're right, it doesn't matter. They're expensive tests. Forget it." It had been a bad idea. Best to let it be. He started rummaging in his schoolbag, checking that he had everything he needed for the day.

"No, hon, hang on, that's not what I meant." Her voice was tentative. Sometimes Ryan swore he didn't recognise his own mother. It was like this new, softer version of her had taken over and while he knew it couldn't last, he couldn't stop himself from hoping. "What do you need to send to register?"

"Are you sure, Mom? I think it's like, eighty dollars or something." He didn't know how to react yet. Maybe she hadn't read the letter properly.

"Nothing's too good for my boy. But you better do well at these tests Ryan, or else..." She sent him a threatening look. Ryan grinned back, relief surging through him. That kind of threat he could handle.

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Three weeks later, Ryan sat the tests. Dawn was still clean, and was even promising to save money for college if there was any chance of a scholarship. Life had never been so good. The last time Trey had come by, he'd even commented on how impressed he was with their mother, and how relaxed Ryan looked.

"Bro', you look better than I've ever seen you, man. You're even filling out a little. Mom's really serious about this, huh?"

"I guess," Ryan said. "She's even started cooking again. Doesn't always work, but it makes a change."

Trey looked amused. "Are you saying I shouldn't have brought pizza?"

"Umm, no. But she's building up to a decent dinner. Maybe next time?" Ryan sounded hopeful.

Trey looked at him closely, concern showing in his eyes: "Hey, Ryan, you know... this might not last, huh? I've seen it before and –"

"It's been more than two months, Trey. She's never lasted that long before. I think she's really trying this time."

Trey sighed. "I hope you're right little bro'. But Ryan, don't bet on it. It's mom, remember?"

Ryan nodded. His good humour was a little deflated. Never mind. She would stick it this time. He was sure of it. Almost.

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Ryan looked at the envelope, turning it over and over between his fingers. He couldn't face opening it, even though he was pretty sure he'd done well. He tried to tell himself that he didn't really care, that there was no way that these scores would make any difference to his life, but he knew he was hoping for the best. He still couldn't believe that his mother had sprung eighty-something dollars to pay for him to sit the tests. All that new talk of college and saving and thinking about scholarships was still hard to believe. But potentially good. If he'd aced the tests, that was. Otherwise he was going to have to face a very angry Mom.

He pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and sat down on the porch. A smoke would help steady his nerves, he figured. Just as he lit it, he heard a wolf-whistle from the house next door.

"Well if it isn't Ryan Atwood! What are you doing home on a Saturday afternoon, man? I thought you were working?" Theresa stood there grinning at him.

"Stock-taking at the warehouse. They didn't need me. What about you?"

She grimaced. "I had to take the day off to go to the dentist. Ugh. Two fillings. And my mouth is still numb. At least I get the afternoon free. Wanna hang out?" She crossed over and flopped down next to him on the steps.

He looked at her sideways. "Where's Eddie?"

"Garage. Like you care. Hey, what are you reading anyhow?" Theresa tried to read the envelope over his shoulder. "School stuff?"

Ryan swatted her away. "None of your goddamn business, chica." But Theresa was persistent.

"C'mon, stud. You're looking all broody and shit. What's it about?"

"Theresa, fuck off!" He bit his bottom lip, annoyed. Why was she being so damn inquisitive?

Theresa pouted at him, mock-angry. "Okay. But you know I'll find out eventually."

She made as if to leave and then lunged at him and snatched the envelope out of his hands, laughing, and ran out of his reach. He narrowed his eyes at her and debated briefly whether to chase her or finish his cigarette. The nicotine won, narrowly, and he settled for flipping her the finger. She was right – she would have found out sooner or later. Maybe she would open the letter and put him out of his misery.

"So, what have we here," Theresa said. "Oh wait, these are your test results, right?" She looked back at him and he nodded curtly.

"Want me to open it?"

Ryan looked away. She waited. Eventually, he gave a small shrug and she grinned at him and tore the envelope open. She scanned the papers inside, frowning. Suddenly she squealed with glee.

"Oh, Ryan, that's unbelievable. Wait..." She scanned further. "It says your scores are in, like, the 98th percentile here. That means..."

"What?" Ryan felt his heart lift. Ninety-eighth percentile? That was way better than he had hoped. He rubbed his face and smiled at Theresa. "You're not shitting me, right?"

"As if!" she retorted. "Oh Ry, you son of a bitch, you're so smart! That's fantastic!" She ran back at him, waving the letter, and hugged him. He hugged her back, elated.

It looked like it was going to be a good summer.

TBC