"Buzz, please don't do this."

"But-"

Mrs. Watson stepped forward and hugged her son tightly. They were standing near the kitchen table, spread with letters of acceptance from several colleges and a lone application for the Los Angeles Police Academy. "Buzz, you're the only one I have left, and-" she choked and was quiet, refusing to let him go.

He held her tightly. Her wispy blonde hair tickled his nose. "You've got Casey."

"I know, Buzzy. I love her dearly, but it's not quite the same."

He was surprised by her frankness, but knew what she meant. He was the last tie to his father, his brother. "Mom, I want to prevent. . . things. . . from happening to people like us."

"I know, believe me, I know. There are other ways to do this, though, safer ways."

He sighed. He knew his mother would be opposed to his joining the L.A.P.D., but he had thought he'd be able to talk her around. It clearly wasn't going to happen. They had been talking, shouting, and even crying for the past hour. Casey and Ed, Buzz's stepfather, had quietly slipped out of the house, mumbling something about needing milk. They had been gone for almost fifty minutes, now, Buzz noted. He broke away from his mother and turned to look at the letters of acceptance.

There was one from USC, his first choice after the Academy. USC had accepted him for film school. He had spoken, at length, to the L.A.P.D. recruiter, and had been told that they accepted civilians for positions inside the force. They would take a guy with a film degree, the recruiter said. A cameraman could film crime scenes for departments like Robbery-Homicide, Vice and Narco, or Priority Homicide.

"Buzz?" his mother asked. She laid one hand tentatively on his shoulder and looked at the papers he held.

"I guess I'd better mail my acceptance to USC," he said finally. "They need to be post-marked by Friday, and USC has the best scholarships and teachers."

"Thank you, baby."

"Yeah." He'd get there eventually. Maybe it wasn't the most direct route, but he'd get there.