FIXING BENJI
Prologue The Freshmen
Benji sat perfectly still at the defense table, hands locked so tightly his knuckles ached. If he loosened them, even a little, he was afraid he would break apart. Blue sat on the table in front of him—small, worn, familiar, and the only thing in the room that didn’t feel like it was judging him.
He kept his eyes on the jury as they filed in. No one looked at him. That had to mean something. Everything meant something when your life depended on strangers.
Alexi leaned in just enough for him to feel her presence, not enough to touch. “Breathe,” she whispered.
He tried. Failed.
Judge Ellis called the room to order. “Members of the jury, have you reached a verdict?”
The foreperson stood. A single piece of paper trembled in her hand.
His fate. His future. His past. All of it.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
Benji’s ears rang. His vision tunneled. He stared at Blue because anything else felt impossible.
“What say you?”
“In the matter of the State vs. Benjamin Wyatt Rivers, we find the defendant… not guilty.”
For a second, he thought he’d misheard. His brain rejected the words. They didn’t fit inside him. They bounced around, looking for a place to land.
Not guilty. Not guilty. Not—
He heard Shi gasp and Tyson finally let out a breath he’d been carrying too long. Ben said, “Thank God,” under his breath. Alexi finally touched his arm. But Benji didn’t move. He couldn’t. If he moved, the moment might vanish.
Shi reached him first, her voice cracking, “It’s over!”
He opened his eyes—he hadn’t even realized they were closed—and the room came back into focus. Her face. Tyson behind her. Alexi. Ben. All of them looking at him like he was supposed to say something. “Is it real?” His voice didn’t sound like his.
“It is, Benji,” Alexi answered, steady and sure.
Ben stepped forward, blinking back tears. “You did good, son.” His hand landed on Benji’s shoulder, warm and firm.
Tyson hesitated only a second before picking up Blue. He gently placed the stuffed monkey in Benji’s hands. “Don’t leave him behind. He’s been with you through it all.”
Benji curled his fingers around the familiar blue fur. Something inside him cracked open—relief and guilt all tangled together. He felt like he’d survived something he probably wasn’t meant to.
Tyson wrapped one arm around him and the other around Shi, pulling them close. “You made it, buddy. You’re going home.”
Home.
The word hit him harder than the verdict. Benji doubted he had one anymore.
But for this moment—this single, impossible moment—he let himself believe he might.
Chapter One The Sounds of Silence
It was the sun that woke him. A faint strip of light pressed through the window, soft and natural. Benji wasn’t used to waking up to sunlight. Usually, fluorescent lights snapped on all at once for morning count, harsh and sudden.
The house was silent, the kind of silence that felt too big. No metal doors clanged. No keys rattled down the hallway. Just… quiet.
He lay still on the unfamiliar mattress, staring at the ceiling. The room was warm, but his body felt cold, like it hadn’t caught up to the fact that he wasn’t in a cell anymore. He kept waiting for someone to yell his name, tell him to get up, tell him where to stand, where to go, what to do.
No one did.
A floorboard creaked somewhere down the hall. Probably Shi, she moved softly, as if she were afraid to wake him. Tyson was the opposite: heavy steps, clearing his throat, the occasional muttered curse when he stubbed his toe on something. Benji wondered if he’d ever learn the rhythms of this house.
He sat up slowly. Blue was on the floor beside the bed, like he’d slipped from Benji’s hand sometime in the night. The monkey looked smaller in this room, like he didn’t belong here, either.
He didn’t know how long he sat like that.
Eventually, he forced himself to stand. His legs felt shaky, like he’d run miles in his sleep. He resisted the urge to stand against the wall. Routines die hard. He opened the door slowly; doing it without permission felt strange. He stepped out carefully and followed the faint smell of coffee down the hall.
Shi was in the kitchen, her curls clipped up into a messy bun, hands wrapped around a mug. She looked up the second he appeared, relief softening her whole face.
“Morning,” she whispered, like the words might be too much for him.
Benji nodded. His throat felt tight. “Morning.”
She moved toward him slowly, giving him space to step back if he needed to. When he didn’t, she wrapped her arms around him. He let himself fold into her, just for a moment. Her breath hitched against his shoulder.
“You don’t have to be okay today,” she said softly.
He didn’t know how to answer that. What did okay even feel like?
Tyson came in a minute later, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He paused when he saw them, then smiled. “Coffee smells great,” he said as if that was the most important thing happening in the room.
Benji sat at the table. The chair cushion was soft, the mug of coffee warm, the kitchen bright. Everything felt overwhelmingly right and wrong at the same time.
They tried to talk about normal things—weather, dinner plans, the neighbor’s dog that kept digging under the fence—but the words floated past Benji like he was underwater. He nodded when he was supposed to, smiled when they did. He pretended he wasn’t drowning in all of it.
After breakfast, Shi handed him a sweatshirt she’d folded neatly on the counter. “It’s yours,” she said. “We thought you might want something that actually fits.”
He ran his fingers over the fabric. Soft. New. Not prison-issue or Tyson’s hand-me-downs. His.
It scared him more than the verdict had.
***
The rest of the day passed in pieces. Tyson graded papers on the couch. Shi cleaned the kitchen that didn’t need cleaning. Benji drifted from room to room like a ghost. Every sound made him flinch. Every silence made him tense. He didn’t know where to put himself.
By evening, exhaustion settled into his bones. Shi made spaghetti, but Benji barely tasted it. Tyson told a story about a kid in his class who tried to convince him that homework was unconstitutional. Shi doubled over laughing, the sound filling the kitchen. Benji hoped it was loud enough for both of them.
After dinner, Benji stood by the window, watching the streetlights flicker on. Christmas lights glowed along the roofs of the houses across the street. Cars eased past on slushy pavement. Neighbors tugged dogs along freshly shoveled sidewalks. Normal life, happening right outside the glass. He pressed his palm to the cold pane. He didn’t know how to step into that world.
Shi came up beside him. “Benji, you’re safe,” she said softly.
He nodded because he knew he was supposed to.
Later, when the house went quiet again, he lay in bed with Blue tucked under his arm, tracing the familiar seams with his thumb. Freedom was supposed to feel light, so why did it feel like a weight?
He closed his eyes and whispered into the dark, “What’s it like to feel safe?”
No one answered.
***
By the third day, it still felt like he was visiting someone else’s life.
The phone on his nightstand buzzed, a small, unfamiliar sound. Benji was still getting used to the cell phone. Ben had pressed it into his hand the day he left Indiana, right there in the courthouse parking lot. “So you can reach me anytime,” he’d said.
Benji hadn’t known what to say then. He still didn’t, but he answered when Ben called. He read every text twice, sometimes three times, trying to understand what it meant to have a father. He kept the messages to himself.
At first, Ben kept it light.
You doing ok?
Yeah
Eating?
Shi cooks a lot
Ha! That sounds about right.
Then the tone shifted.
Been thinking… You don’t have to stay there, son.
Benji stared at that one for a long time. His thumb hovered over the keys, useless. He didn’t know what he was allowed to want, and putting it into words felt like betraying Shi.
Another message came a little later.
I’ve got space here. A room, a bed, your own bathroom. You could start school after Christmas break.
School. A room. A place that was his. He swallowed hard and typed.
Ok.
We can get you enrolled. I already talked to a counselor. They said it’s no problem.
Benji’s heart thudded. Another buzz.
I took care of the ticket. Cab will pick you up Friday morning. You won’t have to figure anything out alone.
Benji set the phone down like it was fragile. Or dangerous. Or both.
Someone wanting him was one thing. Someone making room for him was another. He sat on the edge of the bed, Blue tucked under his arm, staring at the wall as the truth settled in: His dad wasn’t just checking in. He was asking him to come home.
***
On Friday morning, Benji woke before the sun.
He didn’t get up at first. Instead, he lay there listening to the house breathe around him—the heater kicking on, the faint hum of the fridge, the slow drip of melting snow from the eaves. His chest felt tight, like something heavy was sitting on it.
By five, he gave up trying to sleep.
He got dressed quietly, folded what little he owned, and packed the duffel Tyson had given him. When he was done, he went into the living room and sat on the couch with the bag at his feet, staring at the Christmas lights. They glowed soft and steady in the dark room.
He heard footsteps behind him. Shi stopped in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. She blinked at him, then at the duffel.
“Benji?” she whispered. “Why are you up? What’s going on?”
His voice thinned. “Ben… he wants me to come down to Nashville.”
Shi went still. “When?”
“Today.” He didn’t look up. “The cab’s on its way.”
She stared at the bag again. He felt her trying to catch up with something he’d been wrestling with for days.
“He thinks it’ll be better for me there. A fresh start. Somewhere no one knows my name, or Mama’s. Or Big Keith’s. Somewhere I’m not… that kid from the news.”
Shi focused on her breathing and didn’t interrupt.
“My problems have been the backdrop to your marriage long enough. I don’t want that anymore. I don’t want to be the reason you and Tyson can’t breathe.”
Shi shook her head, tears already gathering. “Benji—”
“You spent enough time fixing me,” he whispered. “Let me deal with me now.”
She walked to the tree and picked up a box wrapped in deep green paper and tied with a thin gold ribbon, a sprig of pine tucked beneath it. “I was going to give you this on Christmas morning, but you should have it now.”
Benji took it, his fingers brushing the ribbon. She nodded once. “Open it.”
He peeled the paper away. A leather‑bound journal rested inside, warm brown, his initials — B.W.R. — pressed into the corner. He opened the cover. Her handwriting waited on the first page.
For whatever you need to say. —Shi
Before he could say anything, they heard Tyson singing from the kitchen — the way he always did when he first got up. A cabinet opened, a mug touched the counter. He stepped into the living room, still rubbing a hand through his hair. “No coffee, Shi?” he asked.
He saw her expression. Next, he saw Benji and the gift. Finally, he saw the duffel.
“What’s going on?” he asked, voice suddenly clearer.
Benji traced his initials on the journal. “I’m… leaving. Gonna live with Ben for a while.”
Tyson didn’t move for a second as he took it in. Then he came closer, slow but steady, and lowered himself onto the couch beside him. His eyes flicked to Shi, then to Benji. “Okay, so you go,” he said. “Don’t overthink it.”
Benji’s eyes went wet with tears, making the lights blur in front of him.
“I’m gonna miss you, man,” Tyson said quietly. “We both are.”
Tyson didn’t reach for him or try to talk him out of it. He only watched Shi slowly fall apart.
Thank you for reading the opening of Fixing Benji. So many readers worried about him after Becoming Shiawassee, and this story grew from that concern — from the weight he carries, the tension threaded through his days, and the quiet hope that
keeps pushing forward beneath it all. I’m grateful you’ve stepped into the
beginning of his journey.
—Mary
