Work Text:
Cass had announced, one day, that the boys were to start getting an allowance.
“Why?” Tadashi asked, looking at the dollar she had given him.
“To teach you financial responsibility,” she said, remembering what her father had told them when Bob had asked the same question. “You have some chores you have to do for the week, and if you do them you get an allowance. You can negotiate a raise on your next birthday.”
Tadashi had seemed bemused by this, tugged Hiro up the stairs with the statement that they would find a piggy bank for him to put his quarter in instead of his mouth (probably should have thought twice about giving a five-year-old coins, Cass thought with a wince), and that had seemed to be that.
Bob, as always, had opinions.
“You gave the kids an allowance?” he asked, nose wrinkled up in disdain. “Why?”
“To teach them about finances,” Cass told him, doing her level best to keep the exasperation out of her tone. “You know, like a responsible adult.”
“How dare you speak such slander.”
“Oh good grief Bob,” she shot back. “They’re going to have to learn stuff like budgets and finances eventually—maybe instead of looking down your nose at this you could, oh, I don’t know, help.”
She did not like the way his expression shifted, but at least he said “Fine, I’ll throw in my two cents.”
She, meanwhile, threw a yeast roll at his head for the pun.
Tadashi had concerns about their Uncle Bob wanting to see them in the living room. In his experience thus far with living with their aunt and uncle, Aunt Cass was the responsible one, the one most like their mom and dad, the one he could trust to be the designated adult.
Uncle Bob…well, after the whole chainsaw incident Tadashi was hard-pressed to say if he actually qualified as a responsible adult. Uncle Bob felt more like one of the troublemaking villains in his cartoons than someone he should trust.
Case in point.
“Hello dear nephews,” Uncle Bob said, plopping down on the coffee table in front of them. “Today we’re going to cover supplemental income.”
“What’s that mean?” Hiro asked.
“I’m getting to that. Now it has come to my attention that your aunt has given you an allowance. She claims this is to teach you financial responsibility.” He didn’t actually make finger quotes, but Tadashi could sense them, especially with that eye roll. “Which bears asking the question of what, exactly, she expects you to buy with a quarter and a dollar.”
“We’re learning about saving and budgeting,” Tadashi muttered. That had been what Dad had said when he gave him an allowance—mentioning it in front of Aunt Cass was what had prompted this to begin with.
“And I’m sure that’s lovely if you enjoy working some dredge job all your life. It’s also very boring and time-consuming, so we’ll be learning the fun way instead.” Here he reached back, picking up two small laptops and handing them over. “Consider these training wheels, they’re on a closed network for practicing purposes.”
“What are we practicing?” Tadashi asked, opening the laptop.
“That depends—how much do you know about hacking a computer?”
“Nothing—we’re kids. It’s illegal.”
“Dis-a-pointing,” their uncle said, shaking his head. “Obviously we’re going to have to start at lesson zero what on earth have my sisters been teaching you.”
Tadashi scowled at that—Mom and Aunt Cass had taught them lots—but Uncle Bob had already moved on, pulling out a whiteboard and tugging the lid off of a marker as he started muttering to himself and scribbling, grumbling about what part is the actual lesson zero don’t tell me I have to teach you everything.
This did not bode well.
So if you asked Obake this was going fairly well.
Well, no, wait, that wasn’t true and honestly just a generalization. They were at the very least getting to the point where he didn’t have to walk them through the very very very basics of operating a computer and could finally move on to the basics of hacking. That had only taken, what, three weeks? Probably would have taken less time but someone (Tadashi) was being all recalcitrant and slowing the whole thing down. Honestly, you try to impart some life skills.
At least Hiro was being the proper level of interested. Hiro was happily learning whatever he was teaching and picking things up at the proper pace. At least he wasn’t growing bored teaching him—at the rate Tadashi was going Obake would end up giving up on him before it was all over.
Somehow, he doubted this would actually bother the boy.
But it didn’t matter, the important thing was that at least one of Elaine’s kids wasn’t a total disappointment, as shown when they were watching the edited-for-TV version of Terminator 2 and Hiro asked about the feasibility of hacking an ATM like John Conner did.
Because see, a less responsible uncle would just tell them without actually doing a demonstration on top of it.
“Now, there’s some important things you should know,” he said, leading them down the street. “Firstly, it’s much better to scramble the security cameras than risk them getting a glimpse of you. We’ll cover making such scramblers later. In the meantime. Caps and hoodies and sunglasses and such may seem suspicious, but they cover your features and are what people will identify first when asked to recall you later. Tadashi.”
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Tadashi protested, Obake tugging his hood up when it was obvious the boy wasn’t going to do so. “It’s illegal.”
“Which is why I’m going over how not to get caught. Now, some people will recommend gloves. I won’t say that’s not a good idea, but something like an ATM that has everyone poking at it, you needn’t bother. Someone tries to dust it for prints, they’ll end up with hundreds of people showing up in their database. There’s a refuge in hiding in plain sight.
“On a related note, always act like you know what you’re doing,” he said, plugging in the data scrambler to the ATM. “People will remember shifty. People will be suspicious if you act suspicious. Act like what you’re doing is perfectly normal, and people will usually go with it. No one wants to be the jerk that accuses someone of misbehaving only to find out they’re wrong. This also applies to when you’re somewhere you’re not supposed to be. If someone tells you you’re not supposed to be there, ask for clarification. Say something like are you sure and make sure you actually look like you just wandered in because it wasn’t clearly marked. There’s also a refuge in audacity, and so long as you act like you belong people will follow.” Retrieve the data scrambler, take the money that had been spat out. “If you’re had, then you apologize and follow them out, taking note of how to get in later. But most people won’t buy that someone pulled a stunt in broad daylight. On that happy note.”
Tadashi scowled at the fan of bills he held out. “No. I don’t want that you stole that.”
“From who?” Obake asked. “From a specific person, or from a bank that’s insured and won’t even notice that the bills are out of circulation? Or would you rather we cover forgery instead, since that’s technically not stealing.”
Tadashi was annoyingly huffy the whole way back. No, bribing with ice cream didn’t work Cassandra. This was, apparently, just how Tadashi was going to be.
Oh well.
“Are you okay?”
“Why?” Tadashi asked, startled out of his recollections of his uncle by Wayan’s question. Oh no what did he do—
“You just look upset,” Wayan observed.
“I—well—it’s nothing.” No way anyone would believe him when he said that his uncle was trying to teach them how to hack computers and rob ATMs. Refuge in audacity indeed. “Come on, let’s just…get to class.”
Wayan didn’t seem convinced, but class was enough of a distraction that it drove all thoughts of potentially-evil uncles from Tadashi’s mind.
Namely, the teacher announcing that there was going to be a test and they needed to study the book.
“Er, Mr. Hardman?” Wayan asked. “When you uh, when you say that, you mean just the chapters we’ve covered, right? Because we’ve only covered three—”
“No, I mean the whole book,” Mr. Hardman said. “The whole book, cover to cover, it’ll be a hundred questions and will count towards half of your final grade. The test is next Monday, so I suggest you get started studying now.”
And that was it, no amount of prying would get more information out of him and everyone was in a panic.
Tadashi decided to try things like reasonable adults before engaging in undue panic.
“Sir,” he asked, staying after class and approaching the desk. “It really is just the three chapters, right? Because asking us to cover a hundred chapters in less than a week is asking a lot.”
“You think so?” Mr. Hardman asked.
Tadashi nodded. “Because a lot of us…well you know, we have other classes, and some of us have families that have businesses that we have to help with—”
“You’re twelve.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t help out at home,” Tadashi said, deciding not to correct him about actually being younger. “It’s…it just seems mean to panic everyone like this.”
“Well, son, that’s why you’re the student and I’m the teacher.”
Tadashi was most definitely not this guy’s son. And the sheer injustice of it—it just wasn’t fair—
Well, it was enough to make him do something about it. Someone had to help, after all.
It was why, the next day, when he knew Mr. Hardman was in a class, he slipped into his office. If anyone asked, he was waiting for him to come back so he could ask a question about the test.
In reality, after starting a game of Solitaire (“If you’re caught on a computer in a public place just say you were looking for Solitaire on it while waiting for whoever to get back”) he sorted through all the papers and the folders and the computer itself, finally finding the test results and sending them to the computer labs printer.
That done, he closed the file and the Solitaire game and left, running into Mr. Hardman on the way out.
“I wanted to ask you about the test again, but I couldn’t wait much longer,” he said. “I have a class coming up.”
“What was the question?” Mr. Hardman demanded.
“Is Chapter Four going to be on the test?”
“All the chapters are. Were you not paying attention?”
“No sir, bye,” Tadashi said, taking off before he could untangle that statement.
Fortunately, the test results were still in the printer bin, and he was able to go over them during study hours in the library. Comparing them to the book, it was one question from each chapter. Even with the best educated guesses, most of the class would fail horribly.
Now what?
He couldn’t just spread the test results around—that was just cheating, plain and simple. And if he shared this with Wayan, then it was obvious that they had cheated. There had to be a way around it somehow—
“What are you reading?” Wayan asked, coming over.
“Just something I printed,” Tadashi said, stuffing the test results into his book and looking at Wayan. “What are those?”
“Flash cards,” Wayan said. “Mrs. Mokashi said it helps with studying. Quiz me?”
Tadashi nodded, an idea occurring to him as he accepted the cards. Just spreading the sheet around? Bad.
Flash cards for the purpose of aiding with studying? That could work.
It was why he was later printing out several dozen copies of the test results, now formatted to print onto flash cards, one question at a time, with a few extra sprinkled in to throw off suspicion. Shuffle them up, staple them all together overnight, wrap them in rubber bands to keep them together, and the next day he was selling them to his classmates for a nickel per pack. People would be suspicious if he handed them out for free, according to his uncle’s counsel. Plus, this covered the cost of the cards.
Monday saw the test come around, with thirty nervous students almost suffering breakdowns in anticipation. Tadashi’s stomach tied itself in knots, panicked thoughts chasing each other around in circles as he stared at his desk top—what if that test was a blind? What if he really did swap it out with a proper test that only covered the first three chapters and Tadashi had tricked his classmates into studying useless stuff? What if—
Blinked when the test was put in front of him and he realized it was the same as what he printed. The hundred-question test, one question from each chapter.
Monday saw thirty students taking an impossible test.
Tuesday saw a very angry teacher.
“Which one of you did it?” Mr. Hardman demanded. “Which one of you printed the test for the rest because there is no way all of you passed.”
Chantise Newburn raised her hand. “Sir, isn’t us passing a good thing? Why set us up to fail?”
“To drive in how much you still have to learn and to ferret out which one of you are the cheaters. I get at least one per class, but I know it can’t be all thirty of you. Now which is it?”
Tadashi stayed quiet—maybe he should have fielded handing out the cards to someone else…oh who was he kidding, he was in trouble.
Sure enough, Tony Moroni fingered him, and that afternoon Tadashi was sitting in the principal’s office with the principal and a steaming Mr. Hardman. They had called home, someone was coming to pick him up because he was suspended because this school took cheating very seriously.
I didn’t cheat, he thought. I printed out the answers and shuffled them up—it was on everyone to memorize the answers, not memorize whether question one was A.
Maybe I did cheat. No one was supposed to know the answers. It was an impossible test. It was supposed to teach a lesson. A really, really sucky one.
I hope it’s Aunt Cass coming to pick me up.
The principal—who had been making them wait in silence—finally looked up. “Can I help you?”
“I understand you’re holding my nephew hostage.”
Ice soaked Tadashi right then—oh no. Oh no oh no oh no—
He kept his eyes focused on his clenched fists as Uncle Bob came around to stand next to him, arms folded behind his back, examining the whole setup like he was bored.
The principal was looking Uncle Bob up and down with his brows knitted. “What relation are you to Mr. Hamada?”
“Well let’s see, I said he was my nephew, so it stands to reason I’m his uncle, does it not?” Uncle Bob asked, thin veneer of civility crackling with irritation. “You were explaining why we were here so we can move on with our lives.”
The principal pursed his lips at that—Mr. Hardman started on the story he had already told the principal (while Tadashi was expected to sit there silently).
“Your nephew,” Mr. Hardman spat. “Stole the test results from my computer and distributed them among his classmates.”
Tadashi really didn’t like that quiet coming from Uncle Bob—the sort that said he was reevaluating Tadashi, and not in a good way.
“Are you sure?”
Tadashi recognized this lesson—turn the accusation around on the person.
“He was identified by one of his classmates.”
“And when was this?”
“Earlier today.”
“And I’m to guess that the classmate knew this before today,” Uncle Bob countered. “Which means that this person sat on the information you’re telling me and didn’t feel compelled to share this earlier. Like, say, before the test was administered so you had ample time to change it.”
Silent steaming.
“What was the nature of this test, anyway?” Uncle Bob asked, looking down at Tadashi.
“One question per chapter,” Tadashi muttered. “Except we only covered three. It counted for half our grade.”
“So what I’m getting is that you’re upset that you didn’t get to flunk the entire class. My my, but the quality of teachers here leaves something to be desired.”
“That wasn’t the point of the test,” Mr. Hardman started—
“Then do tell,” Uncle Bob said—Tadashi glanced up at the honeyed words to see a concerning smile slashing his uncle’s face. “Inform me as to the purpose this test serves. The students fail if they take it, or they pass and you fail them anyway out of spite because how could they know the answers to an impossible test without cheating? Let me guess,” he continued, turning his attention to the principal. “You’re going to take the word of a child who directly benefitted from my nephew’s alleged actions and let this misconduct slide. I don’t doubt he has tenure, doesn’t he? Or, wait, you also tack on punishing my nephew for something he allegedly did.”
Tadashi really didn’t like the way he kept referring to him as my nephew, or the way his tone was getting more and more venomous.
“We take accusations of cheating very seriously,” the principal said, unperturbed. “This is going on his permanent record, and he’s being suspended immediately. You may bring him back next Monday, here’s a copy of the statement for your records.”
Uncle Bob examined the paper he was handed for a few moments before very pointedly tearing it up, the look in his eye suggesting he would have preferred to do it to the men in the room.
“I look forward to discussing the issue with your replacements,” he said. “Come along, dear nephew, it’s not nice to gawp at the deceased.”
“Is that a threat?” Mr. Hardman demanded as Uncle Bob steered Tadashi out of the room.
Tadashi glanced up at his uncle, who looked very pointedly at Mr. Hardman before smiling in a way that made him want to scurry for cover.
“I don’t threaten,” Uncle Bob said. “Good day, looking forward to never seeing you again.”
Oh boy.
Tadashi was most definitely not enjoying the trolley ride home, spent most of it waiting for the other shoe to drop.
No, he didn’t expect to get scolded—the way Uncle Bob was sitting next to him said that scolding was most likely not in his future. Which, honestly, was the problem.
The trolley had stopped to let several passengers off, was trundling along again when Uncle Bob finally spoke.
“Do you want to get ice cream or something?” Uncle Bob asked him. “Or I suppose we could go to the arcade…although you’re pedantic enough that we could go to the bookstore—”
“What are you doing?” Tadashi demanded.
“How do you mean?”
Tadashi sat on his knees, turned to face his uncle. “I did a bad thing! You’re supposed to punish me, not take me out for ice cream!”
He hated that blank look, hated it more when his uncle apparently latched onto the wrong thing. “Well yes obviously you don’t want to get caught but it was your first time and mistakes happen. We’ll go over it so you know better for next time—”
“There shouldn’t be a next time.”
“Not with that teacher, at least. Did he really give you all a test you couldn’t have possibly studied for?”
Yes, but that wasn’t the point. “I cheated. And then I gave all my classmates the answers so they could cheat.”
“Yes, we’re going to have to go over that, I want to hear details. And at least you’re finally starting to become interesting—I was starting to worry about you, for the record.”
Tadashi ran hot at that. “Me doing something wrong isn’t interesting. It’s bad.”
He didn’t like the way his uncle tipped his head at that, or the half-squint and smirk on his face. “If it was wrong, then why did you do it?”
Tadashi felt like he had swallowed a softball, hating how that had gotten turned around on him. He had a reason, okay? It was wrong of Mr. Hardman to do that—
And Wayan had been panicking and near tears, and Tadashi had wanted to fix it.
“Because Mr. Hardman was wrong too,” Tadashi muttered, looking away. “It wasn’t right for him to make everyone panic like he did, even if he might have just said that it was a joke the next day.”
“Hmm, for it to be a joke, then it would have had to be funny,” Uncle Bob countered. “And if you’re countering a wrong, then it’s pointless to punish you for it, now isn’t it?”
Tadashi hated that he had a point, hated the way he happily paraded him into the Lucky Cat, crowing to Aunt Cass how he had finally done something interesting before steering him to the table where Hiro was listening to Professor Knox about literature. Hated that the game he had been eyeing for a long while and that Aunt Cass said he could save up for was sitting on his bedstand the next day.
Hated that he did indeed have a different teacher and principal when he went back to school the next Monday.
“I don’t know what happened, but they both resigned last week,” Wayan told him over lunch. “Are you okay? You look…kind of angry.”
Deep breath—deep breath again. “I’m fine,” he lied. And he would have to be fine—he had to make sure that this never happened again, that he never gave his uncle reason to praise him for wrongdoing ever again. Someone had to help, yes, but that someone could do it in an entirely legal, proper way.
Sadly, he was never able to adhere to that.