Walsh Family Universe V2

It started with Tyler's idea at Saturday baseball practice.

"Dude, we should totally have a sleepover at my house tonight," Tyler said as they waited their turn for batting practice. "My parents said I could invite people."

"I'm in," Marcus said immediately.

"Me too," added Daniel, another teammate.

"Noam?" Tyler looked at him expectantly.

Ash considered. He'd been to sleepovers before—a few over the past couple years. They were fine. Movies, junk food, staying up too late. Standard kid stuff.

"Yeah, okay. I'll ask my parents."

Mom said yes easily enough—she knew Tyler's parents, trusted them. Dad helped Ash pack an overnight bag while dispensing standard sleepover wisdom.

"Listen to Mr. and Mrs. Hoffman. Be respectful. Don't stay up all night. And if there's any trouble, call us."

"Dad, it's just a sleepover."

"I know. But you're ten now. Ten-year-olds sometimes make questionable decisions in groups." Dad zipped the bag. "Just use good judgment."

Famous last words.

Tyler's house was nice—two-story colonial in a neighborhood similar to Ash's. His parents were friendly, welcoming all four boys with promises of pizza and movies.

"You boys can set up in the basement," Mrs. Hoffman said. "Tyler, show them where everything is."

The basement was perfect for a sleepover—big TV, video game console, couches, plenty of floor space for sleeping bags. The four boys dumped their stuff and immediately started arguing about which game to play first.

They played video games until pizza arrived, stuffed themselves, played more games. Tyler's parents checked on them around eight, reminded them not to be too loud, and went upstairs.

Around nine-thirty, as they were watching some superhero movie, Tyler said, "You know what would be fun?"

"What?" Marcus asked.

"Sneaking out."

Everyone went quiet.

"Sneaking out where?" Daniel asked.

"Just around the neighborhood. It's not even that late. We could walk to the convenience store, get candy, come back. My parents would never know."

"That's a terrible idea," Ash heard himself say.

"Come on, don't be boring," Tyler grinned. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"My sense of adventure knows the difference between adventure and getting grounded for a month."

"We won't get caught. My parents are watching TV upstairs. They won't even check on us until like eleven." Tyler was warming to his idea. "The store's only three blocks away. We'd be back in twenty minutes."

"I don't know..." Marcus said, but his tone suggested he was considering it.

"Live a little!" Tyler was already getting up. "Come on, it'll be fun. Something to remember. Plus I want Sour Patch Kids and we ate all the candy here."

Ash's adult brain was screaming that this was stupid. That sneaking out was exactly the kind of thing that got kids in trouble. That Tyler's parents had trusted them and violating that trust was wrong.

But his ten-year-old body was feeling the peer pressure. The desire to not be the boring one. The need to prove he was fun, adventurous, one of the guys.

"Fine," Daniel said. "But if we get caught, this was Tyler's idea."

"We won't get caught," Tyler insisted. "Noam? You in or are you going to be lame?"

There it was. The challenge. The implied insult. The social pressure that every ten-year-old felt acutely.

Ash thought about saying no. About being the responsible one. About calling his parents to pick him up.

"I'm in," he said instead.

Tyler's grin was triumphant. "Yes! Okay, we go out the basement door, walk to the store, buy candy, come right back. Easy."

It was easy. At first.

The basement door led to the backyard. They slipped out quietly, four boys in the dark, the thrill of rule-breaking making everything feel exciting.

The neighborhood was quiet. Street lights cast yellow pools on the sidewalk. A few houses had lights on, but no one was outside.

"See? No problem," Tyler said as they walked.

The convenience store was three blocks away, just like Tyler said. Open until midnight on Saturdays, fluorescent-bright against the dark street.

Inside, they browsed the candy aisle with the seriousness of a military operation. Tyler got his Sour Patch Kids. Marcus chose chocolate. Daniel grabbed gummy worms. Ash picked Skittles, feeling ridiculous about the whole situation.

The clerk—a bored-looking teenager—barely glanced at them as they paid and left.

"Told you it would be fine," Tyler said, ripping open his candy as they walked back.

And it would have been fine. They would have snuck back into the basement, eaten their contraband candy, and no one would have been the wiser.

Except on the way back, they ran into Mr. Patterson.

Mr. Patterson—Ash's second-grade teacher, who lived two streets over from Tyler.

Mr. Patterson, who was walking his dog.

Mr. Patterson, who recognized all four of them immediately.

"Boys?" Mr. Patterson stopped, his dog sniffing curiously at them. "What are you doing out here? It's almost ten o'clock."

They all froze like deer in headlights.

"Um," Tyler said eloquently.

"Does Tyler's family know you're out here?" Mr. Patterson's expression was stern.

"We were just getting candy," Marcus offered weakly.

"At ten PM. Without adult supervision." Mr. Patterson pulled out his phone. "I have Mrs. Hoffman's number from the PTA. I think I need to give her a call."

"Mr. Patterson, please—" Tyler started.

"This isn't a discussion, boys. You shouldn't be out here alone at night. It's not safe, and I'm certain your parents don't know about this."

He dialed. They stood there, watching their fun evening implode spectacularly.

"Jennifer? Hi, it's Tom Patterson. I'm so sorry to call this late, but I just ran into some boys from the neighborhood... yes, Tyler and three friends... they're at the convenience store on Oak Street... no, I don't think she knew they left..."

The boys exchanged horrified glances.

"She's on her way," Mr. Patterson said after hanging up. "We'll wait here."

The next five minutes were excruciating. Standing on the sidewalk, holding their candy, knowing they were in deep trouble.

Mrs. Hoffman's car pulled up, and her expression through the windshield made Ash's stomach drop.

"Get in," she said, her voice tight. "All of you."

They piled into the car silently. Mrs. Hoffman thanked Mr. Patterson, assured him she'd handle it, and drove them back to her house in complete silence.

In the basement, she lined them up like soldiers.

"I am calling all of your parents right now," she said, her voice shaking with anger and—worse—disappointment. "You boys snuck out of my house. You left without permission, without telling anyone where you were going. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? What if something had happened to you?"

"We were just getting candy—" Tyler tried.

"You were being irresponsible and disrespectful. You violated my trust and your parents' trust." Mrs. Hoffman was already dialing. "Tyler, you are in serious trouble. As for the rest of you, your parents are coming to pick you up."

Dad arrived twenty minutes later. Ash had never seen him look quite that angry.

The drive home was silent. When they pulled into the driveway, Dad finally spoke.

"Go to your room. Your mother and I will talk to you in the morning."

"Dad—"

"Room. Now."

Ash went upstairs, the weight of his mistake sitting heavy in his chest. He changed into pajamas, lay in bed, stared at the ceiling.

His adult brain had known this was a bad idea. Had known exactly how it would end. Had tried to say no.

But his ten-year-old self had caved to peer pressure. Had wanted to be one of the guys. Had made a stupid decision because that's what ten-year-olds did sometimes.

Even ten-year-olds with thirty-two-year-old consciousnesses, apparently.

The tribunal convened at the breakfast table Sunday morning.

Mom and Dad sat across from him, a united front of parental disappointment.

"Explain," Dad said.

"Tyler wanted to sneak out to get candy from the convenience store. I said it was a bad idea. But then he said I was being boring and lame, and I... I went along with it."

"Peer pressure," Mom said.

"Yeah."

"So you knew it was wrong," Dad said. "Knew it was a bad idea. But did it anyway because your friends called you boring?"

Ash stared at his hands. "Yes."

"Noam." Mom's voice was heavy. "You're ten years old. You're not a baby anymore. We expect you to make good decisions even when your friends are making bad ones."

"I know."

"Do you?" Dad leaned forward. "Because this wasn't just sneaking out for candy. This was leaving the house without permission at night. Without telling any adult where you were. What if something had happened? What if you'd gotten hurt or lost or—" He stopped himself. "Your mother and I trusted Tyler's parents to keep you safe. Tyler's parents trusted you boys to behave responsibly. Everyone's trust was violated."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you are," Mom said. "Now that you got caught. But would you be sorry if Mr. Patterson hadn't seen you?"

Ash thought about it honestly. "Probably not."

"At least you're being truthful." Mom sighed. "Here are the consequences. You're grounded for two weeks. No TV, no video games, no phone except for necessary calls. You'll go to school and practice, but that's it. No hanging out with friends outside of team activities."

"Two weeks?"

"You snuck out of someone else's house at night," Dad said. "Yes, two weeks. And you're going to call Tyler, Marcus, and Daniel today and apologize for getting them in trouble."

"They made the same choice I did!"

"And they're being punished by their own parents. But you're still going to apologize for your part in it." Dad's expression softened slightly. "Look, we get it. Ten-year-olds do stupid things sometimes. The peer pressure to fit in is real. But you have to learn to make good choices even when your friends are making bad ones."

"I tried to say no," Ash said quietly.

"We know. Tyler's mom told us you initially said it was a bad idea." Mom reached across the table. "That's good. That shows good judgment. But you still gave in. Next time, you need to stick with your first instinct."

"Or call us," Dad added. "If you're in a situation where your friends want to do something you know is wrong, call us. We'll come get you, no questions asked."

"Really?"

"Really. We'd rather pick you up at ten PM from a sleepover than get a call that you're missing."

After breakfast, Ash made the calls. Tyler first.

"Dude, I'm so sorry," Tyler said immediately. "That was such a stupid idea. I'm grounded for three weeks."

"I'm grounded for two. And I have to apologize for getting you in trouble."

"We all made the choice. It's not just your fault."

"I know, but... I'm still sorry."

"Yeah. Me too. This sucked."

Marcus was grounded for two weeks, same as Ash. Daniel for ten days. All their parents had apparently coordinated to ensure the punishment was appropriate.

That afternoon, Eden called.

"Heard you had an adventure last night," she said, her tone teasing but gentle.

"How'd you find out?"

"Mom called me. She was upset. Not mad, exactly, just... worried." Eden paused. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not really. I did something stupid, I got caught, I'm being punished. That's pretty much it."

"Peer pressure's hard," Eden said. "Especially when you're trying to fit in."

"I know it was dumb. My adult brain knew it was dumb. I just... in the moment, I didn't want to be the boring one."

"That's really normal for ten-year-olds. The frontal lobe doesn't fully develop until your twenties, so impulse control is harder for kids. Even kids with adult consciousnesses, apparently."

"Yeah, apparently."

"You'll survive two weeks of being grounded. And you learned something valuable—that Tyler's ideas aren't always great ones."

Despite himself, Ash laughed. "Yeah. That's definitely true."

The two weeks of being grounded were boring but not terrible. School and practice kept him occupied. At home, he did homework, read books, worked on conditioning exercises.

His teammates gave him good-natured grief about the incident.

"The great convenience store caper," Daniel called it dramatically at practice. "We shall never speak of it again."

"My mom won't let me forget it," Marcus groaned. "She brings it up constantly."

Coach Williams had apparently heard about it too, because he gathered the four of them before practice one day.

"Heard you boys had some excitement last weekend," he said, his tone neutral.

They all mumbled various affirmatives.

"Here's the thing about being on a team," Coach Williams said. "You look out for each other. That includes stopping your teammates from doing stupid things. Next time one of you has what seems like a fun idea, maybe the others should be the voice of reason."

"Yes, Coach," they chorused.

"Good. Now give me twenty laps. All of you. Consider it a team-building exercise."

As they ran, Tyler gasped out, "I'm... never... suggesting... anything... fun... again!"

"Good!" Marcus wheezed back.

Despite the punishment, despite the lecture, despite everything—Ash found himself almost smiling as he ran. This was normal kid stuff. Stupid ten-year-old decisions and getting caught and facing consequences.

Not Ash the recovering addict who couldn't be trusted.

Just Noam, ten-year-old boy who'd done something dumb with his friends.

There was something almost freeing about that.

On the last day of being grounded, Mom found Ash in his room doing homework.

"Your two weeks are up tomorrow," she said from the doorway.

"I know. Believe me, I know."

"Did you learn anything?"

Ash thought about it. "That peer pressure is real, even when you're mentally thirty-two. That Tyler's ideas need more scrutiny. And that sneaking out for Sour Patch Kids isn't worth two weeks of no TV."

Mom smiled. "Those are all good lessons. For what it's worth, I'm proud of you."

"For getting in trouble?"

"For being honest about why you did it. For understanding what went wrong. And for handling the punishment without too much complaint." Mom sat on his desk chair. "You're growing up. Making mistakes is part of that. The important thing is learning from them."

"I did initially say it was a bad idea," Ash pointed out.

"I know. And that was good judgment. Next time, stick with that judgment even when your friends call you boring."

"What if they stop being my friends?"

"Then they weren't very good friends to begin with." Mom stood, kissed his forehead. "Real friends respect when you say no. Remember that."

After she left, Ash returned to his homework—a math worksheet that was insultingly easy. But his mind was on the conversation.

He'd been given peer pressure talks before. Every kid got them. But hearing it now, after actually experiencing that pressure, after caving to it and facing consequences—it hit different.

"My name is Ash," he whispered. "I'm thirty-two years old. I'm ten years old. Last week I snuck out with my friends to buy candy and got caught and grounded and learned that having an adult consciousness doesn't make me immune to peer pressure."

Four thousand, eight hundred and ninety-four days to go.

But tomorrow he could play video games again.

And next Saturday was a baseball game.

And he'd learned that Tyler's spontaneous ideas needed at least three people to veto them before they happened.

Growing up—again—meant making mistakes. Even stupid, predictable, very-ten-year-old mistakes.

And somehow, despite the punishment and the lectures and the embarrassment, that felt weirdly normal.

Just a kid who did something dumb with his friends and lived to tell the tale.

Nothing more complicated than that.

For once.