Jace Evans....
How could he be anyone's type? Six-foot-two-inches of sun-kissed skin, with sandy blond hair, a curtain before his glowing amber eyes. Not really Darren's type, anyway. Too many warm colors in too many places. Excluding his killer looks, though, Jace was just another meat-headed douche who may not have ever put his hands on him the way his friends did, but he still enjoyed their company. Someone like Darren could only understand people like them as some kind of evil force that people loved to be abused by, for some reason or another. Perhaps the sadists of the school, herding all the poor little masochists who'd kill for even a taste of that light; moths to a flame. As much as he hated to admit it, though, Dare was nothing but your typical outcast. It was his mouth, more than anything, which got in him trouble. He didn't know to control it, unfortunately, but whether or not the kids around him thought it was bravery, it certainly wasn't. Those days, like most, he just opted not to take his pills like a good boy. Either way, he was now standing at the mouth of the school entrance, staring at the sets of stairs before him. There were two sets leading one floor up from the landing; one on either side of the middle row, which took you downward, near the cafeteria; a place he liked to avoid when he could.
That was where that sad group of people circled like vultures, staring down those that were less fortunate. Their self-righteousness was enough to make Darren sick, but he didn't avoid it this time. He might have just been too distracted in thought to pay much attention, as going through the cafeteria was the shorter route to his class after all, but he looked up just in time to catch a smile from Jace. A smile he couldn't help returning, though it was only brief before they returned to their prior obligations. That last thing that either of them wanted to do was ruin their reputations, right? Who'd want to be seen around a guy like Jace, anyway? Darren was very nearly his polar opposite. His skin was so pale, and his eyes so circled in dark, he almost always appeared sick. Since the recent loss of his mother, he hadn't been getting nearly as much sleep as was required to sustain normal brain function, and he'd never been one to spend much time in the sun. He'd been born brunette, but again, warm colors hadn't been his thing for a year or so, so black it was painted, off-setting his eyes; one light brown, and other of like-shade, speckled with green.
Black. Everything black: every article of clothing, every pair of shoes, every binder, and backpack. Dare was certainly a sunspot, walking out the door to the hall on the other side of the cafeteria. It was a little loud, and he quickly ducked around a corner, into a small collection of lockers. Number 223, top shelf. The words "freak" and "f*****t", scratched into it boldly, made him laugh hollowly. Returning to school after missing a couple of weeks had had him a little worried before, but his teachers were all very understanding, and helpful, and his counselor wanted to pound into him that he was welcome to leave class at anytime during the year that he wanted to come and see her. Taking a breath, Darren reached up, starting to turn the dial before being pushed up against his locker, "Damn, man! You could have scuffed my shoe. Watch where the ******** you're goin', eh?" His eyes closed, the cold of the locker against his cheek cooling his head a little. He'd just been in trouble for this only a day or two ago, for fighting with Jace, but because Jace was 'such a great kid', the principal let them off with a warning. And silly Dare.. He slid himself off the locker, turning to face Alex, who'd shoved him, and a few of his friends. Jace was among them, watching from the sidelines. Darren looked quickly back to Alex, a snide look on his face, "I'll ******** up more than your shoes if you lay another finger on me." He pushed his way out from in between a couple of them, which wasn't hard since they scattered like flies. There was some chatter between the meat-heads and their girlfriends, followed by some laughter. Guess they didn't want to catch gay, hm? In Dare's own opinion, "douche" was the worse disease, if either were classified as such a thing. Jace, as always, just stayed quiet until the end, then laughed with his friends, shooting Darren a look that the poor boy didn't even look back to catch. He'd even left his locker unopened in lieu of their fight escalating.
When his friends scattered, Jace stayed put, watching the room into which Darren had disappeared. Social studies.. That was his own third period class. With a soft sigh, he looked down to the messenger bag flung over his shoulder, and opened it to reveal his notes and text books. He spared a glance around himself, to make sure no one would notice, then back down to his bag, pulling out his social studies book as he started to walk off after Darren. The bell for first period hadn't yet rung, and it wasn't like he was too worried about being a little late to his own class. Just eyes.
With a deep breath, he slipped into the room, and glanced to the back. There were only a few kids in the class; mainly over-achievers, discussing notes, and preparing for a test a few weeks out. Then there was Darren, his head down on the desk. He'd more than likely noticed the boys had distracted him from gathering his class supplies like he'd planned on doing, and was just going to sleep through his first period. Jace frowned, furrowing his brow, and leaning over to one of the ladies sitting on their desk, "If you wouldn't mind, please give this to the kid in the back. He dropped it in the hallway. I'm going to be late for my own class." And when she nodded, he smiled, turning to leave the room. This time, it was Darren's glance which went unnoticed.
The girl handed him the textbook, and quickly went back to her small group just as the bell rang for class. He was only doing this for causing the stitches in his face.. As much as he did appreciate the gesture, Dare leaned on his hand and only pretended to pay attention, as he got lost in his thoughts. His mom's face flashed before his eyes, and he cringed. It was a pleasant memory, actually, and made his heart ache. Long before she ever became the addict she was, back when Jace wasn't nearly the lady killer he'd become, when she was working two jobs, and still managed to come home to say goodnight. Back then... Before the fire.. Darren opened his eyes, peeling his face away from his palm, and looked up to the teacher, “Mr. Casey,” She said, her voice quiet, “If you need to go to the counselor's office..” He was frowning, he knew it, and he did try to stop, he swore, but it was nearly impossible. At that point, he couldn't even open his lips to speak. He just shook his head, trying his damndest to be convincing. He didn't like talking to strangers. He didn't like people pretending to understand: there wasn't really anything to understand. Parents were supposed to die before their children, he'd just gotten it over with at a young age. It wasn't like he didn't still have a father. In fact, his father was pretty amazing, religious as he was.
The teacher gave him a shake of her head in return, and nodded toward the door, motioning for him to take a break. It was only first period.. But if it had to be done, he'd rather it be sooner than later. With heavy posture, he made his way slowly back through the cafeteria, up the two main stairways, and up another before finally finding the counselor's office.
Slowly, he approached the desk, asking to see Mrs. Butler. They took a look at his pass, and showed him where to wait. Apparently, he wasn't the only one with issues, and he did suppose that put him a little at ease. Quietly, he sat in a vacant seat. There was nothing to do but be patient, he guessed, since he couldn't just go back to class. While he waited, he decided to flip open the textbook and read what he'd spaced off in social studies. He didn't have any notes, or ideas for their upcoming project, but if there were anything he knew about, it was history. As he read over the 'introduction to the civil war' page, his fingers slid along the outside of the pages in preparation to turn the page, only to feel a slip of paper out of place. An irresponsibly placed love note? Darren couldn't resist the sweet temptation, and gently pulled the tucked paper from the book, unfolding it quickly. Upon the page, in bold, black ink was a list of Jace's classes, from first period to last. That was it? No gossip? Maybe he was relieved. He didn't really want it to be a love note.
“Darren Casey?”
He looked up quickly, stuffed the paper in his back pocket and closed the book as he stood from his seat, “Yeah, sorry. I was just doing some catching up.”
The woman smiled. She seemed friendly enough, but still fake. Tired, like she didn't want to be there anymore, and as Dare got settled in her closet-sized office, he noticed why. It seemed since she'd started here she'd started a family of her own, the evidence was all around the small space, in neat little picture frames, and flashing pictures on the old computer monitor that took up the majority of space on the desk. Mrs. Butler didn't need to be here, helping sad little teens, but for some reason, knowing she had kids made him want her to be the one he opened up to. She took her seat, a woman of forty-two or so. There was some grey in her black hair, and a few creases around her eyes behind her glasses, “My name is Mrs. Butler. I'll be your counselor for the school year.”
As she spoke, more than anything, he was running the possible conversation routes through his head. He didn't really want to be here. The school trusting him with the power to leave class at any time to “go see the counselor” was probably not one of their wisest decisions, and Dare wanted so badly to say that. He would have introduced himself, but he knew she'd seen who was coming to see her, and had more than likely prepared a little speech just for him about how sometimes parents die, and it'll always hurt, but it'll hurt less one day. He didn't want to hear it.. At least she'd somehow mastered how to hide the expression everyone else seemed to wear, minus the meat heads, that is. She didn't stare at him as if he were a ticking time-bomb, and before he could catch the words, “I'm gay,” they were staring at each other silently. He wasn't sure if she was looking for something to say back to that, or waiting for some real news. Certainly, this woman had heard every one in the book, “I'm Darren, and.. My mom's dead. And I like this boy in school.” He'd stopped looking at Mrs. Butler by then, his eyes tracing the lines in the beige carpet. It must have seemed like he didn't like his mother. He didn't want to go to the counselor to talk about her, he wasn't breaking down in tears, and he was more concerned about Jace than the death of his mother. Darren's father had told him a few times that it was just shock, and that he wasn't any different than anyone else. That mourning a death is a lot like praying; everyone might speak different words, but the meaning is the same. He also said praying might help, but Dare just didn't feel like crying. Something deep down inside told him.. His mom was happier now than she'd been in a long time. Their life had been anything but easy, as far back as his memories would tell him.
“My teachers keep sending me here, so.. I guess I have something to talk about. Just not what you expected, is it?”
She smiled from behind her desk, “If you think talking about this boy is a good place to start, that's fine.” She turned her attention away from him right then, though, moving the mouse and staring at her computer screen. He could see the reflection in her glasses, but his own eyesight was terrible without his own glasses. She pulled up some white sheet, then inhaled slowly, before turning to him once more, “So you got in a fight with a boy here the other day? Was it over your sexuality?”
Dare laughed a little, “No.. No, nothing like that.” He looked up to the ceiling, curious how long it might take for him to count all of the small holes. He thought back to when he'd jumped on Jace, and broken the bracelet he'd given him as a kid, “It goes deeper than that. Most people think I'm gay, but it's not like they had any proof until the fight, I guess.” Darren reached his left hand up, running his fingers against the left side of his nose, along which there were stitches.
“And is that cut on your face from this fight with him? Do you mind if I ask what started the fight?”
His miscolored eyes soon hid behind closing eyelids, his fingers abandoning his face, as his hands came to rest in his lap, “I started the fight.”
After he'd broken the bracelet, he walked away. Jace hadn't been fighting back, there was no point. Of course, that thought was nothing, if not a mistake. By the time he got inside, Jace had been hot on his heels, and shoved him against the lockers before Dare even knew he was behind him. Now, Darren had never exactly been a level-headed person in the first place, so he supposed he just couldn't control himself. It was mostly a blur of harsh movements, and aggravated grunts, until Jace landed a punch to his face that sent him back against the lockers, where he slid down to his a**. He'd heard a crack, just before plastic fell to the ground, and then there was blood. A lot of blood, “When he punched me, I thought he'd broken my nose. But I deserved it, so I guess that's what doused my anger..” The glasses he'd been wearing had broken with the force, the jagged edge at the bridge cutting his nose open, “Jace looked worried. I don't think he meant to draw blood. I'll tell you the same thing I told the principal; it was my fault.”
Mrs. Butler waved a hand at Darren, shaking her head a little, “I'm not worried about who's at fault. Besides, it takes two to fight, doesn't it? So.. I assume you know Jace outside of school?” This elicited a laugh from his dry lips, and he sat up straight in his chair.
“You could say that. I've known him since..” His voice trailed off, just as the bell rang, ending first period, “I should probably take off. I don't want to miss another class today. I'm already far enough behind.” Dare stood, smiling a little at the lady. He actually already felt better. She called to him, though, as he reached the door, and he swung around quickly, “Yes?” She was holding out a piece of paper to him, “We're a hate free school, Darren. If you're hiding something about this fight, or anyone else tried to hurt you, don't hesitate to talk to the staff.” He looked down to the signed pass back to class, then shrugged, and left. Dare wasn't a narc, and he wasn't about to become one.
As he left her small room, he tucked the yellow slip in his pocket, feeling the other paper beneath his fingers. If he was going to get this book back to Jace, he could meet him by his second period.. He pulled out the folded piece, and looked it over once more, before marching down the hall, and standing by room 301. Darren wasn't sure if he should wait for the blond, or head into the classroom and give it to the teacher. The latter, he thought, might have been the better idea, but Jace rounded the corner right then, with his friends. If he'd thought about it sooner, he could have left it with the teacher before going to the counselor.. Taking a deep breath, he hugged the book under his arm, running straight into the blond and dropping the book on the ground. Everyone paused, and he looked up to Jace, “You dropped your book, b***h. Watch where you're going.”
His voice was low, and as he walked around Jace, one of his friend spoke up, grabbing him by the shirt, “Why don't you apologize, f*****t?”
“Careful, it might be contagious,” When Alex looked up to him, his face scrunched up in confusion, Darren spit in his face and pushed him back. If it weren't for the teachers coming out to call the students into their classrooms, Dare was sure he would have gone home with some broken bones. Thankful for the second bell, he jogged away down the hall. He didn't care that he would be late. He had a pass, after all.
– – – – –
After making it to his locker, finally, the school day passed quietly. Too quietly. It wasn't that Darren didn't have friends, he just... Didn't have many friends. Just acquaintances from classes, and kids he'd been assigned projects with once upon a time. There were some greetings, and goodbyes, but nothing very friendly. When you get the rep of a pyromaniac who almost killed a family, people don't tend to stick too close too you, and Darren didn't mind it too much. The more he kept to himself, the less people knew if rumors were just rumors or not. He'd never minded being talked about, but betrayal was a different thing entirely. Who needed friends anyway? They could hurt you. Really hurt you, like no one else could; not to say that other people can't hurt you too.
With a grim look up to the grey sky, Darren ran down the stone steps outside school. His father had already told him that he couldn't meet him outside school that day, because work was running later than usual, and he told him that it was fine. He was sixteen, and more than capable of getting himself home. Luckily, he always had the house key on him.
That was about the end of his luck, as he made his way home.
The streets seemed quieter than they should have been for that time of day, but he didn't seem to notice until it was too late, and he felt someone grab him by the back of his shirt. Instinctively, he looked around for help, before shoving his attacker off. When he swung to look back, a thick palm came to clasp over his mouth, and he was staring into the brown eyes of Alex. Darren could feel the anger boiling in his gut then, and he bit Alex's hand as hard as he could manage, using his hands to rip it away from his face as he tried to get away and prepare for a fight.
There were two others with him, faces he knew, but names he couldn't recall, and when they noticed their friend in pain, they jumped on him. The more he struggled, the more tangled in his own shirt he became, and the more constricted he felt, the more frantic his heart rate. If he weren't so prideful, he might have screamed, but that had never been Dare. Even with his arms bound, and his breathing quick, he still tried to kick, when Alex approached. It wasn't until he saw the knife in his hand that he froze, “Gotta have your friends hold me back, and you need a weapon? You must be pretty ********' scared of me– ” He said, only to be punched hard in the jaw. The stars before his eyes were harder to see through then, but a few slaps to his face cleared it up, and he glared at Alex the best that he could, “..p***y..”
Alex grabbed him by the front of his shirt, “I think I should cut that tongue of yours out for you, do people a favor.” The taller male grabbed Darren's face, pressing the blade of the knife to his lips, “Open up. I said open the ******** up, now!” It was digging in to the sensitive flesh, and when he could taste blood, Dare lifted his knee up quickly, kneeing him in the crotch as hard as he could, and watched Alex fall to the ground before ducking out of his shirt and running as fast as his legs would carry him. He could handle himself, but not against three guys twice his size. As he looked back, to see if he was going to make it, fingers twisted in the hair at the top of his head, and he cringed, tripping over his own feet and falling with the guy on top of him. He must have hit Darren's face to the pavement three times before pulling him back up to face Alex, who was holding the white slip of paper that had fallen out of his pocket. Jace's schedule.. God, he hated the taste of blood, and it was all over his tongue. He wanted to spit it in the meat head's face, but he was grabbed by the throat before he could really form the thought, let alone put in into motion.
It was hard to focus on him. Dare wanted to keep fighting, but will had all but left his tired limbs. He still had bruises from his fight with Jace, that now stung with a new sort of pain, “You little f*****t,” Darren's face was turning blue, as his body squirmed, demanding oxygen, “We're going to teach you a lesson.” It seemed as if Alex were going to hold his throat until he passed out, and he feared to think what he might do to him after that. He had to keep his eyes open.
“So not only are you a fairy, but you're a goddamn stalker, huh? Apologize for spitting in my face,” Alex demanded, his two goons tightening their grip as he finally released Darren's throat. Immediately, he started coughing up the blood in his mouth, gasping for the air which burned his lungs. It hurt.. It burned, but he looked up through his eyelashes at his attacker, and spit to the ground at his feet.
“Are you just mad because I kissed your boyfriend, Alex?”
A split second before impact, Dare actually felt a jolt of fear run up his spine. The look in Alex's eyes was terrifying, and dark. He didn't think he'd have the guts. He'd hoped he didn't have the guts, anyway, but as he felt the knife plunge into his stomach, he realized his mistake. Darren let out the loudest scream that had ever torn out of his throat, and his already sore lungs, only to have his mouth quickly covered. There was chatter around him from the boys, and the hold on him was released. They must have been in shock that Alex did it too. With a shove back, Darren rolled down from the shoulder of the road, into the brush, collecting in the ditch. It was a soft landing, at least, and he could faintly hear footsteps disappearing, quickly.
His head was pounding, and his ears ringing. For a moment, the shock saved him from the pain, but he was afraid to move; afraid to disturb the wound anymore. As he lie there, the tears burning his eyes from the fear of death, his final days with his mother came to mind, and he began to sob for his father. He was afraid to die here, alone, on the side of the road. What would become of his father? He'd just lost his wife.. “Help..” He pleaded from the brush, reaching an arm up and trying to pull himself out. He hoped someone would hear, that someone would help him. In those moments, for the first time in a long time, Dare began to pray. He closed his eyes tight, begging to be found, “Please.. Please help..” But the darkness began to close in, and Darren had no fight left in him.
– – – – –
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep-beep.
Quiet chatter. Soft footsteps. There was slight recognition of a hand holding his own. The pressure told him it was a tight hold, and the sweat told him they had been holding his hand for quite a while. Sweaty palms... He wasn't even sure if he was dreaming. Beep. Beep-beep. His heart..?
“...should be fine, Mr. Casey. When he awakens, he'll be a little groggy, that's all.” A female voice, speaking to his father. His father must have been the one holding his hand so tightly.. His head felt crowded, like there wasn't even space to think, or make sense of the situation, even if he wanted to. Slowly, he tried opening his eyes. The room was bright, and he closed his eyes almost immediately.
“Do you have children..” It was his father. His voice was rough, and strained, just like the day his mother had passed, and he wanted to squeeze his hand, but it was like his mind and body were completely separate right then. He didn't hear the woman reply, but his father proceeded as if she had, “My son is the only thing I have in this world, and the one day I stay late at work... That one thing I have is nearly taken from me. I know I should be overjoyed that he's okay...and I am, but that's not all I want. I want whoever did this to be found, and brought to justice.” Darren took a deep breath, and attempted to open his eyes again. With some effort, he focused on the ceiling: it was similar to the counselor's office, “I never wanted life to be like this for him. I promised his mother I would protect him..”
His miscolored eyes fell upon his father, finally, and he lightly gave a squeeze to his hand. As if the man had been shocked, Mr. Casey turned to face Darren. He jumped out of his chair, looking down at his face from reddened eyes. His father was certainly not too proud to cry, and seemed to have been doing so since he'd found out about Darren. It looked as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words, so he smiled, and his son smiled back. They were silent a moment, as the female voice he'd heard spoke once more, “Hey, it's good to see you're awake.”
Lazily, Dare turned his head toward her, squinting as he looked against the light, “..mom?” She smiled, and shook her head, “My name is Eliza. Do you know where you are?” His eyes closed briefly, and he shook his head, “You've been booked into the hospital for the night. We'd like to keep an eye on you overnight, since we noticed the bruising on your face that we're a little worried about. Your father here has been by your side since you got here,” She smiled, “Now, can you tell me your name?”
Of course he knew his name. He knew his age, and address, too, he just couldn't think of them right then. His head was still quite foggy, and instead of even making the attempt, Dare just stared up at her stupidly. She smiled, and looked to his father, “It's alright. Speaking will be easier when the medication wears off.” Eliza backed away then, writing a few things on her clipboard before looking down to her patient, “Your father has decided to stay with you tonight. He'll be by your side all night, and we'll pop in every so often to monitor you.” Night? Was it already night? As lazily as he'd moved to face her, he turned back to his father, and looked behind him. Out the window, the sun wasn't even visible. How long had he been laying there before he was found? Who found him?
“...D...Darren. My...name... Is Darren...Casey.”
“Don't push yourself, Darren,” His father said, worry in his voice as he sat back down and scooted his chair closer so he could hold his son's hand to his chest, “Why don't you rest, alright? And we'll talk about all of this in the morning, when you feel better?” He didn't really want to talk much more anyway. His throat was still sore from before... With as terrible as he felt, he could only wonder how he looked.
“I love you, dad.” Dare whispered, closing his eyes. The nurse left, and Mr. Casey replied with, “I love you more.” In the moments of silence that followed, the sixteen-year-old in the hospital bed took the time to thank God for sparing his life; for sparing his father so much heartache.
CHAPTER 2
– – – – – – – –
It was the weekend that followed, and it rolled on through regularly. Monday morning, Jace awoke with his alarm clock, and got ready for the day. He had a feeling that day wasn't going to be a great one, on account of how tired he was. He hated days like this. Everything felt slow, and it didn't help that the sky was still grey with the rain clouds from Friday. He must have been standing on the porch for about five minutes, watching the sky, and thinking about his fight with Darren. He'd sincerely not meant to leave a scar. It had just hurt him such a great deal when when the dear friend from his childhood was the one to break the present he'd given to him; one of his two precious bracelets. His uncle had given him the other... Darren was the only one he'd talk to about those kinds of things, and that was possibly what hurt the most about their violent reunion, the fact that he no long had a friend like he used to. That child had grown up, and the light was gone from his eyes.
He wanted to be there for him, especially because his mom had just died, but he didn't know where to start. How do you come back to someone after years of neglect, accidental or otherwise? Jace had allowed himself to become absorbed in his title of 'hero' from that night, while Darren was left, shunned by the other kids... He was blinded. He was sorry, and he didn't know how to say it. When you grow up spoiled, you're taught that nothing's your fault...even if you both built the blanket fort.
Finally, Jace stepped away from the porch, and walked down to his car. After jumping inside, he pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, and popped it between his lips. Not until he was a little down the road did he finally light it, and roll down the window. His parents had no idea he smoked, if that much wasn't obvious by his actions. Like Alex, and a few of the others, Jace had a fake I.D. It aged him about six years, but he hadn't looked his age since the growth spurt. Cigarettes weren't the hard buy, it was alcohol, and he certainly couldn't buy either in the neighbor. He was too much of a social butterfly to get away with it; too many people knew him.
The last drag of the cigarette burned, as he hadn't been paying attention to how close it was to the filter, and he flicked it out the window before pulling up in the school parking lot– a spot he'd earned by passing each of his classes with a B or higher. Killing the engine, Jace slowly stepped out. Usually, as he walked in the side door, he'd see Darren's dad dropping him off. This time he waited, so they could talk before the others tried to shove him in lockers like he egged them on to do. He waited, and lit another cigarette, checking the time on his phone. In the sea of faces, he could pick out a friend or two, making their way to the group, but he couldn't see Dare, and when the first bell rang, he sighed and stepped out his smoke. Maybe he'd come too late, or maybe Darren was running late.. He'd just have to catch him later.
On his way to class, he bumped into Jason; a man of about 5'11” with short brown hair, and green eyes. He was one of the friends who also had a fake I.D., and even went out of his way to make himself look older by growing out whatever facial hair he could manage to grow. If you needed alcohol, this was the guy you sought out. Jace wouldn't go as far as to do that, because the last thing he needed was to get caught.
“Hey,” He said, looking up to Jace, “Alex was looking for you earlier. He says he has something to give to you?”
The blond scrunched up his face, furrowing his brow in confusion, “What are you talking about?”
“I don't know, man,” Jason shrugged, continuing on his way to class, “Catch you later.”
When he jogged away, Jace stood there stupidly for a moment, then shook his head a little and made his way to first period. He shared third period with Alex, but didn't see him in there, and began to get curious. Obviously, he was at school, but for some reason, avoiding class? The blond glanced to the back row when the class emptied, looking to the desk he'd seen Darren sitting at the other day. He was still nervous to speak to him..
Finally, lunch rolled around, and he made his way outside and pulled out another cigarette as he made his way to his friends. Jason was there, and a couple of the others, and none of them noticed him approach. For some reason, it was a little off-setting how they were standing so close and talking so quietly, so he tried to listen in before they noticed him, “...taken care of,” Alex's voice was soft, “They asked a few questions, and even searched my bags, but dude, I ditched the knife–“
“Oh, hey, Jace.” Jason nodded to him, alerting Alex, who turned to face him. They nodded their hellos, and Jace got closer, taking another drag off his cigarette.
“What are you guys talkin' about?” He was interested, but he couldn't help himself looking around the school entrance for Darren. Usually, he'd head for the park, and smoke where he thought no one would notice. In the background, he heard one of them say 'nothing' in response to his question, just as he'd noticed a rusty, beat up old Bug pull up; Darren's father's car. He didn't see Darren, though.
“Whatever,” Another drag, and he tossed the butt aside, “what did you want to give me, Alex? I have a prior engagement, and you've wasted enough of my time today, having to track you down.”
“Sorry, dude, I was in the office for third. Here,” He began to dig around in his pants pockets, only to find the folded paper in his pocket, “got it back for you from your stalker. You're welcome.” He said it with a laugh, then nodded a goodbye, walking away with his friends. Jace was more confused now, than he had been before, and his amber eyes fell to the paper. It was dirty, and wrinkled, and when he opened it to see his schedule, he remembered putting it in his textbook. But where could they have...
Darren.
All he could do was stare at the piece of paper, with his list of classes, doing his best to connect all the dots. What was he supposed to think? How had they gotten it from Darren, and why did Darren have it in the first place? Slowly, Jace began to walk back toward the school entrance, not even interested in lunch right then. Had his friends...done something to Dare? He wasn't sure he wanted to think about it, especially seeing the boy's father climbing out of his car, looking like he hadn't slept in days. Horrible images assaulted his mind, and he tried to keep them back. He was just sick. The boys had ******** around with him like always, and he'd gotten sick over the weekend.
“Mr. Casey.. It's nice to see you.”
The man turned to face him, seeming surprised. Even for looking like he'd lost sleep, the man's clothes were still neatly assembled as Jace could ever recall from the past, his silver cross gleaming against the black of his shirt, “Ah.. Good afternoon, Jace.” He didn't look at him long, grabbing paperwork from inside the car, and then closing the door harshly; there was no other way to close that door, it was falling apart, “I'd love to stay and chat, but I'm a little busy.”
“Where's Darren?” It slipped out before he could catch himself, but he didn't look away, or try to retract his question. Instead, the worry touched his face, “I really needed to talk to him today, see..”
“He won't be back for a few days, I'm afraid.” His eyes softened behind his glasses, and he looked to the ground, “I didn't realize the two of you were talking again. He... Never talks to me anymore.”
Jace frowned, and sighed a little, looking to the ground as well, “We actually just...recently started talking again. Is he alright?” When Darren's father looked back up to Jace, he actually seemed genuinely confused, as if he'd just realized that Jace had no idea what happened. By then, he'd assumed word had spread, at least in the high school. He'd already made a police report, but there was so little to go on when Darren refused to say anything, “I don't mean to pry,” Jace continued, pursing his lips, “but you're taking so long, I'm actually getting...worried.”
“He was attacked on his way home last Friday..” His voice sounded pained, “Someone stabbed him, and left him to bleed out on the side of the road. If it hadn't been for a neighbor walking her dog...”
“What?” Jace's voice caught in his throat, pain and anger shooting all throughout his limbs, his hands balling into tight fists, “Did he tell you who did it?”
“I was actually.. Hoping that once word had spread to the school, someone here might have the answer, because... Darren keeps telling me that he's not a narc, and won't say anything else. Jace.. Since you two are talking, maybe you..”
His head was still spinning, worry turning to rage. It hit him then; the conversation he'd overheard, the schedule, Alex being in the office for all of third period... The school, and the police must have been questioning them, and now he was the one to find out Darren had been stabbed, and know who it was that did it. He couldn't just rat his friend out, especially not being sure, “I'll.. Definitely come talk to him after school today, okay? When you see him, tell him I said to keep in high spirits.” Mr. Casey seemed relieved, and even smiled just a little. Awkwardly, they said goodbye to each other, and Jace sprinted ahead, desperate to get back to Alex and put him in his place.
How could he be anyone's type? Six-foot-two-inches of sun-kissed skin, with sandy blond hair, a curtain before his glowing amber eyes. Not really Darren's type, anyway. Too many warm colors in too many places. Excluding his killer looks, though, Jace was just another meat-headed douche who may not have ever put his hands on him the way his friends did, but he still enjoyed their company. Someone like Darren could only understand people like them as some kind of evil force that people loved to be abused by, for some reason or another. Perhaps the sadists of the school, herding all the poor little masochists who'd kill for even a taste of that light; moths to a flame. As much as he hated to admit it, though, Dare was nothing but your typical outcast. It was his mouth, more than anything, which got in him trouble. He didn't know to control it, unfortunately, but whether or not the kids around him thought it was bravery, it certainly wasn't. Those days, like most, he just opted not to take his pills like a good boy. Either way, he was now standing at the mouth of the school entrance, staring at the sets of stairs before him. There were two sets leading one floor up from the landing; one on either side of the middle row, which took you downward, near the cafeteria; a place he liked to avoid when he could.
That was where that sad group of people circled like vultures, staring down those that were less fortunate. Their self-righteousness was enough to make Darren sick, but he didn't avoid it this time. He might have just been too distracted in thought to pay much attention, as going through the cafeteria was the shorter route to his class after all, but he looked up just in time to catch a smile from Jace. A smile he couldn't help returning, though it was only brief before they returned to their prior obligations. That last thing that either of them wanted to do was ruin their reputations, right? Who'd want to be seen around a guy like Jace, anyway? Darren was very nearly his polar opposite. His skin was so pale, and his eyes so circled in dark, he almost always appeared sick. Since the recent loss of his mother, he hadn't been getting nearly as much sleep as was required to sustain normal brain function, and he'd never been one to spend much time in the sun. He'd been born brunette, but again, warm colors hadn't been his thing for a year or so, so black it was painted, off-setting his eyes; one light brown, and other of like-shade, speckled with green.
Black. Everything black: every article of clothing, every pair of shoes, every binder, and backpack. Dare was certainly a sunspot, walking out the door to the hall on the other side of the cafeteria. It was a little loud, and he quickly ducked around a corner, into a small collection of lockers. Number 223, top shelf. The words "freak" and "f*****t", scratched into it boldly, made him laugh hollowly. Returning to school after missing a couple of weeks had had him a little worried before, but his teachers were all very understanding, and helpful, and his counselor wanted to pound into him that he was welcome to leave class at anytime during the year that he wanted to come and see her. Taking a breath, Darren reached up, starting to turn the dial before being pushed up against his locker, "Damn, man! You could have scuffed my shoe. Watch where the ******** you're goin', eh?" His eyes closed, the cold of the locker against his cheek cooling his head a little. He'd just been in trouble for this only a day or two ago, for fighting with Jace, but because Jace was 'such a great kid', the principal let them off with a warning. And silly Dare.. He slid himself off the locker, turning to face Alex, who'd shoved him, and a few of his friends. Jace was among them, watching from the sidelines. Darren looked quickly back to Alex, a snide look on his face, "I'll ******** up more than your shoes if you lay another finger on me." He pushed his way out from in between a couple of them, which wasn't hard since they scattered like flies. There was some chatter between the meat-heads and their girlfriends, followed by some laughter. Guess they didn't want to catch gay, hm? In Dare's own opinion, "douche" was the worse disease, if either were classified as such a thing. Jace, as always, just stayed quiet until the end, then laughed with his friends, shooting Darren a look that the poor boy didn't even look back to catch. He'd even left his locker unopened in lieu of their fight escalating.
When his friends scattered, Jace stayed put, watching the room into which Darren had disappeared. Social studies.. That was his own third period class. With a soft sigh, he looked down to the messenger bag flung over his shoulder, and opened it to reveal his notes and text books. He spared a glance around himself, to make sure no one would notice, then back down to his bag, pulling out his social studies book as he started to walk off after Darren. The bell for first period hadn't yet rung, and it wasn't like he was too worried about being a little late to his own class. Just eyes.
With a deep breath, he slipped into the room, and glanced to the back. There were only a few kids in the class; mainly over-achievers, discussing notes, and preparing for a test a few weeks out. Then there was Darren, his head down on the desk. He'd more than likely noticed the boys had distracted him from gathering his class supplies like he'd planned on doing, and was just going to sleep through his first period. Jace frowned, furrowing his brow, and leaning over to one of the ladies sitting on their desk, "If you wouldn't mind, please give this to the kid in the back. He dropped it in the hallway. I'm going to be late for my own class." And when she nodded, he smiled, turning to leave the room. This time, it was Darren's glance which went unnoticed.
The girl handed him the textbook, and quickly went back to her small group just as the bell rang for class. He was only doing this for causing the stitches in his face.. As much as he did appreciate the gesture, Dare leaned on his hand and only pretended to pay attention, as he got lost in his thoughts. His mom's face flashed before his eyes, and he cringed. It was a pleasant memory, actually, and made his heart ache. Long before she ever became the addict she was, back when Jace wasn't nearly the lady killer he'd become, when she was working two jobs, and still managed to come home to say goodnight. Back then... Before the fire.. Darren opened his eyes, peeling his face away from his palm, and looked up to the teacher, “Mr. Casey,” She said, her voice quiet, “If you need to go to the counselor's office..” He was frowning, he knew it, and he did try to stop, he swore, but it was nearly impossible. At that point, he couldn't even open his lips to speak. He just shook his head, trying his damndest to be convincing. He didn't like talking to strangers. He didn't like people pretending to understand: there wasn't really anything to understand. Parents were supposed to die before their children, he'd just gotten it over with at a young age. It wasn't like he didn't still have a father. In fact, his father was pretty amazing, religious as he was.
The teacher gave him a shake of her head in return, and nodded toward the door, motioning for him to take a break. It was only first period.. But if it had to be done, he'd rather it be sooner than later. With heavy posture, he made his way slowly back through the cafeteria, up the two main stairways, and up another before finally finding the counselor's office.
Slowly, he approached the desk, asking to see Mrs. Butler. They took a look at his pass, and showed him where to wait. Apparently, he wasn't the only one with issues, and he did suppose that put him a little at ease. Quietly, he sat in a vacant seat. There was nothing to do but be patient, he guessed, since he couldn't just go back to class. While he waited, he decided to flip open the textbook and read what he'd spaced off in social studies. He didn't have any notes, or ideas for their upcoming project, but if there were anything he knew about, it was history. As he read over the 'introduction to the civil war' page, his fingers slid along the outside of the pages in preparation to turn the page, only to feel a slip of paper out of place. An irresponsibly placed love note? Darren couldn't resist the sweet temptation, and gently pulled the tucked paper from the book, unfolding it quickly. Upon the page, in bold, black ink was a list of Jace's classes, from first period to last. That was it? No gossip? Maybe he was relieved. He didn't really want it to be a love note.
“Darren Casey?”
He looked up quickly, stuffed the paper in his back pocket and closed the book as he stood from his seat, “Yeah, sorry. I was just doing some catching up.”
The woman smiled. She seemed friendly enough, but still fake. Tired, like she didn't want to be there anymore, and as Dare got settled in her closet-sized office, he noticed why. It seemed since she'd started here she'd started a family of her own, the evidence was all around the small space, in neat little picture frames, and flashing pictures on the old computer monitor that took up the majority of space on the desk. Mrs. Butler didn't need to be here, helping sad little teens, but for some reason, knowing she had kids made him want her to be the one he opened up to. She took her seat, a woman of forty-two or so. There was some grey in her black hair, and a few creases around her eyes behind her glasses, “My name is Mrs. Butler. I'll be your counselor for the school year.”
As she spoke, more than anything, he was running the possible conversation routes through his head. He didn't really want to be here. The school trusting him with the power to leave class at any time to “go see the counselor” was probably not one of their wisest decisions, and Dare wanted so badly to say that. He would have introduced himself, but he knew she'd seen who was coming to see her, and had more than likely prepared a little speech just for him about how sometimes parents die, and it'll always hurt, but it'll hurt less one day. He didn't want to hear it.. At least she'd somehow mastered how to hide the expression everyone else seemed to wear, minus the meat heads, that is. She didn't stare at him as if he were a ticking time-bomb, and before he could catch the words, “I'm gay,” they were staring at each other silently. He wasn't sure if she was looking for something to say back to that, or waiting for some real news. Certainly, this woman had heard every one in the book, “I'm Darren, and.. My mom's dead. And I like this boy in school.” He'd stopped looking at Mrs. Butler by then, his eyes tracing the lines in the beige carpet. It must have seemed like he didn't like his mother. He didn't want to go to the counselor to talk about her, he wasn't breaking down in tears, and he was more concerned about Jace than the death of his mother. Darren's father had told him a few times that it was just shock, and that he wasn't any different than anyone else. That mourning a death is a lot like praying; everyone might speak different words, but the meaning is the same. He also said praying might help, but Dare just didn't feel like crying. Something deep down inside told him.. His mom was happier now than she'd been in a long time. Their life had been anything but easy, as far back as his memories would tell him.
“My teachers keep sending me here, so.. I guess I have something to talk about. Just not what you expected, is it?”
She smiled from behind her desk, “If you think talking about this boy is a good place to start, that's fine.” She turned her attention away from him right then, though, moving the mouse and staring at her computer screen. He could see the reflection in her glasses, but his own eyesight was terrible without his own glasses. She pulled up some white sheet, then inhaled slowly, before turning to him once more, “So you got in a fight with a boy here the other day? Was it over your sexuality?”
Dare laughed a little, “No.. No, nothing like that.” He looked up to the ceiling, curious how long it might take for him to count all of the small holes. He thought back to when he'd jumped on Jace, and broken the bracelet he'd given him as a kid, “It goes deeper than that. Most people think I'm gay, but it's not like they had any proof until the fight, I guess.” Darren reached his left hand up, running his fingers against the left side of his nose, along which there were stitches.
“And is that cut on your face from this fight with him? Do you mind if I ask what started the fight?”
His miscolored eyes soon hid behind closing eyelids, his fingers abandoning his face, as his hands came to rest in his lap, “I started the fight.”
After he'd broken the bracelet, he walked away. Jace hadn't been fighting back, there was no point. Of course, that thought was nothing, if not a mistake. By the time he got inside, Jace had been hot on his heels, and shoved him against the lockers before Dare even knew he was behind him. Now, Darren had never exactly been a level-headed person in the first place, so he supposed he just couldn't control himself. It was mostly a blur of harsh movements, and aggravated grunts, until Jace landed a punch to his face that sent him back against the lockers, where he slid down to his a**. He'd heard a crack, just before plastic fell to the ground, and then there was blood. A lot of blood, “When he punched me, I thought he'd broken my nose. But I deserved it, so I guess that's what doused my anger..” The glasses he'd been wearing had broken with the force, the jagged edge at the bridge cutting his nose open, “Jace looked worried. I don't think he meant to draw blood. I'll tell you the same thing I told the principal; it was my fault.”
Mrs. Butler waved a hand at Darren, shaking her head a little, “I'm not worried about who's at fault. Besides, it takes two to fight, doesn't it? So.. I assume you know Jace outside of school?” This elicited a laugh from his dry lips, and he sat up straight in his chair.
“You could say that. I've known him since..” His voice trailed off, just as the bell rang, ending first period, “I should probably take off. I don't want to miss another class today. I'm already far enough behind.” Dare stood, smiling a little at the lady. He actually already felt better. She called to him, though, as he reached the door, and he swung around quickly, “Yes?” She was holding out a piece of paper to him, “We're a hate free school, Darren. If you're hiding something about this fight, or anyone else tried to hurt you, don't hesitate to talk to the staff.” He looked down to the signed pass back to class, then shrugged, and left. Dare wasn't a narc, and he wasn't about to become one.
As he left her small room, he tucked the yellow slip in his pocket, feeling the other paper beneath his fingers. If he was going to get this book back to Jace, he could meet him by his second period.. He pulled out the folded piece, and looked it over once more, before marching down the hall, and standing by room 301. Darren wasn't sure if he should wait for the blond, or head into the classroom and give it to the teacher. The latter, he thought, might have been the better idea, but Jace rounded the corner right then, with his friends. If he'd thought about it sooner, he could have left it with the teacher before going to the counselor.. Taking a deep breath, he hugged the book under his arm, running straight into the blond and dropping the book on the ground. Everyone paused, and he looked up to Jace, “You dropped your book, b***h. Watch where you're going.”
His voice was low, and as he walked around Jace, one of his friend spoke up, grabbing him by the shirt, “Why don't you apologize, f*****t?”
“Careful, it might be contagious,” When Alex looked up to him, his face scrunched up in confusion, Darren spit in his face and pushed him back. If it weren't for the teachers coming out to call the students into their classrooms, Dare was sure he would have gone home with some broken bones. Thankful for the second bell, he jogged away down the hall. He didn't care that he would be late. He had a pass, after all.
– – – – –
After making it to his locker, finally, the school day passed quietly. Too quietly. It wasn't that Darren didn't have friends, he just... Didn't have many friends. Just acquaintances from classes, and kids he'd been assigned projects with once upon a time. There were some greetings, and goodbyes, but nothing very friendly. When you get the rep of a pyromaniac who almost killed a family, people don't tend to stick too close too you, and Darren didn't mind it too much. The more he kept to himself, the less people knew if rumors were just rumors or not. He'd never minded being talked about, but betrayal was a different thing entirely. Who needed friends anyway? They could hurt you. Really hurt you, like no one else could; not to say that other people can't hurt you too.
With a grim look up to the grey sky, Darren ran down the stone steps outside school. His father had already told him that he couldn't meet him outside school that day, because work was running later than usual, and he told him that it was fine. He was sixteen, and more than capable of getting himself home. Luckily, he always had the house key on him.
That was about the end of his luck, as he made his way home.
The streets seemed quieter than they should have been for that time of day, but he didn't seem to notice until it was too late, and he felt someone grab him by the back of his shirt. Instinctively, he looked around for help, before shoving his attacker off. When he swung to look back, a thick palm came to clasp over his mouth, and he was staring into the brown eyes of Alex. Darren could feel the anger boiling in his gut then, and he bit Alex's hand as hard as he could manage, using his hands to rip it away from his face as he tried to get away and prepare for a fight.
There were two others with him, faces he knew, but names he couldn't recall, and when they noticed their friend in pain, they jumped on him. The more he struggled, the more tangled in his own shirt he became, and the more constricted he felt, the more frantic his heart rate. If he weren't so prideful, he might have screamed, but that had never been Dare. Even with his arms bound, and his breathing quick, he still tried to kick, when Alex approached. It wasn't until he saw the knife in his hand that he froze, “Gotta have your friends hold me back, and you need a weapon? You must be pretty ********' scared of me– ” He said, only to be punched hard in the jaw. The stars before his eyes were harder to see through then, but a few slaps to his face cleared it up, and he glared at Alex the best that he could, “..p***y..”
Alex grabbed him by the front of his shirt, “I think I should cut that tongue of yours out for you, do people a favor.” The taller male grabbed Darren's face, pressing the blade of the knife to his lips, “Open up. I said open the ******** up, now!” It was digging in to the sensitive flesh, and when he could taste blood, Dare lifted his knee up quickly, kneeing him in the crotch as hard as he could, and watched Alex fall to the ground before ducking out of his shirt and running as fast as his legs would carry him. He could handle himself, but not against three guys twice his size. As he looked back, to see if he was going to make it, fingers twisted in the hair at the top of his head, and he cringed, tripping over his own feet and falling with the guy on top of him. He must have hit Darren's face to the pavement three times before pulling him back up to face Alex, who was holding the white slip of paper that had fallen out of his pocket. Jace's schedule.. God, he hated the taste of blood, and it was all over his tongue. He wanted to spit it in the meat head's face, but he was grabbed by the throat before he could really form the thought, let alone put in into motion.
It was hard to focus on him. Dare wanted to keep fighting, but will had all but left his tired limbs. He still had bruises from his fight with Jace, that now stung with a new sort of pain, “You little f*****t,” Darren's face was turning blue, as his body squirmed, demanding oxygen, “We're going to teach you a lesson.” It seemed as if Alex were going to hold his throat until he passed out, and he feared to think what he might do to him after that. He had to keep his eyes open.
“So not only are you a fairy, but you're a goddamn stalker, huh? Apologize for spitting in my face,” Alex demanded, his two goons tightening their grip as he finally released Darren's throat. Immediately, he started coughing up the blood in his mouth, gasping for the air which burned his lungs. It hurt.. It burned, but he looked up through his eyelashes at his attacker, and spit to the ground at his feet.
“Are you just mad because I kissed your boyfriend, Alex?”
A split second before impact, Dare actually felt a jolt of fear run up his spine. The look in Alex's eyes was terrifying, and dark. He didn't think he'd have the guts. He'd hoped he didn't have the guts, anyway, but as he felt the knife plunge into his stomach, he realized his mistake. Darren let out the loudest scream that had ever torn out of his throat, and his already sore lungs, only to have his mouth quickly covered. There was chatter around him from the boys, and the hold on him was released. They must have been in shock that Alex did it too. With a shove back, Darren rolled down from the shoulder of the road, into the brush, collecting in the ditch. It was a soft landing, at least, and he could faintly hear footsteps disappearing, quickly.
His head was pounding, and his ears ringing. For a moment, the shock saved him from the pain, but he was afraid to move; afraid to disturb the wound anymore. As he lie there, the tears burning his eyes from the fear of death, his final days with his mother came to mind, and he began to sob for his father. He was afraid to die here, alone, on the side of the road. What would become of his father? He'd just lost his wife.. “Help..” He pleaded from the brush, reaching an arm up and trying to pull himself out. He hoped someone would hear, that someone would help him. In those moments, for the first time in a long time, Dare began to pray. He closed his eyes tight, begging to be found, “Please.. Please help..” But the darkness began to close in, and Darren had no fight left in him.
– – – – –
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep-beep.
Quiet chatter. Soft footsteps. There was slight recognition of a hand holding his own. The pressure told him it was a tight hold, and the sweat told him they had been holding his hand for quite a while. Sweaty palms... He wasn't even sure if he was dreaming. Beep. Beep-beep. His heart..?
“...should be fine, Mr. Casey. When he awakens, he'll be a little groggy, that's all.” A female voice, speaking to his father. His father must have been the one holding his hand so tightly.. His head felt crowded, like there wasn't even space to think, or make sense of the situation, even if he wanted to. Slowly, he tried opening his eyes. The room was bright, and he closed his eyes almost immediately.
“Do you have children..” It was his father. His voice was rough, and strained, just like the day his mother had passed, and he wanted to squeeze his hand, but it was like his mind and body were completely separate right then. He didn't hear the woman reply, but his father proceeded as if she had, “My son is the only thing I have in this world, and the one day I stay late at work... That one thing I have is nearly taken from me. I know I should be overjoyed that he's okay...and I am, but that's not all I want. I want whoever did this to be found, and brought to justice.” Darren took a deep breath, and attempted to open his eyes again. With some effort, he focused on the ceiling: it was similar to the counselor's office, “I never wanted life to be like this for him. I promised his mother I would protect him..”
His miscolored eyes fell upon his father, finally, and he lightly gave a squeeze to his hand. As if the man had been shocked, Mr. Casey turned to face Darren. He jumped out of his chair, looking down at his face from reddened eyes. His father was certainly not too proud to cry, and seemed to have been doing so since he'd found out about Darren. It looked as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words, so he smiled, and his son smiled back. They were silent a moment, as the female voice he'd heard spoke once more, “Hey, it's good to see you're awake.”
Lazily, Dare turned his head toward her, squinting as he looked against the light, “..mom?” She smiled, and shook her head, “My name is Eliza. Do you know where you are?” His eyes closed briefly, and he shook his head, “You've been booked into the hospital for the night. We'd like to keep an eye on you overnight, since we noticed the bruising on your face that we're a little worried about. Your father here has been by your side since you got here,” She smiled, “Now, can you tell me your name?”
Of course he knew his name. He knew his age, and address, too, he just couldn't think of them right then. His head was still quite foggy, and instead of even making the attempt, Dare just stared up at her stupidly. She smiled, and looked to his father, “It's alright. Speaking will be easier when the medication wears off.” Eliza backed away then, writing a few things on her clipboard before looking down to her patient, “Your father has decided to stay with you tonight. He'll be by your side all night, and we'll pop in every so often to monitor you.” Night? Was it already night? As lazily as he'd moved to face her, he turned back to his father, and looked behind him. Out the window, the sun wasn't even visible. How long had he been laying there before he was found? Who found him?
“...D...Darren. My...name... Is Darren...Casey.”
“Don't push yourself, Darren,” His father said, worry in his voice as he sat back down and scooted his chair closer so he could hold his son's hand to his chest, “Why don't you rest, alright? And we'll talk about all of this in the morning, when you feel better?” He didn't really want to talk much more anyway. His throat was still sore from before... With as terrible as he felt, he could only wonder how he looked.
“I love you, dad.” Dare whispered, closing his eyes. The nurse left, and Mr. Casey replied with, “I love you more.” In the moments of silence that followed, the sixteen-year-old in the hospital bed took the time to thank God for sparing his life; for sparing his father so much heartache.
CHAPTER 2
– – – – – – – –
It was the weekend that followed, and it rolled on through regularly. Monday morning, Jace awoke with his alarm clock, and got ready for the day. He had a feeling that day wasn't going to be a great one, on account of how tired he was. He hated days like this. Everything felt slow, and it didn't help that the sky was still grey with the rain clouds from Friday. He must have been standing on the porch for about five minutes, watching the sky, and thinking about his fight with Darren. He'd sincerely not meant to leave a scar. It had just hurt him such a great deal when when the dear friend from his childhood was the one to break the present he'd given to him; one of his two precious bracelets. His uncle had given him the other... Darren was the only one he'd talk to about those kinds of things, and that was possibly what hurt the most about their violent reunion, the fact that he no long had a friend like he used to. That child had grown up, and the light was gone from his eyes.
He wanted to be there for him, especially because his mom had just died, but he didn't know where to start. How do you come back to someone after years of neglect, accidental or otherwise? Jace had allowed himself to become absorbed in his title of 'hero' from that night, while Darren was left, shunned by the other kids... He was blinded. He was sorry, and he didn't know how to say it. When you grow up spoiled, you're taught that nothing's your fault...even if you both built the blanket fort.
Finally, Jace stepped away from the porch, and walked down to his car. After jumping inside, he pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, and popped it between his lips. Not until he was a little down the road did he finally light it, and roll down the window. His parents had no idea he smoked, if that much wasn't obvious by his actions. Like Alex, and a few of the others, Jace had a fake I.D. It aged him about six years, but he hadn't looked his age since the growth spurt. Cigarettes weren't the hard buy, it was alcohol, and he certainly couldn't buy either in the neighbor. He was too much of a social butterfly to get away with it; too many people knew him.
The last drag of the cigarette burned, as he hadn't been paying attention to how close it was to the filter, and he flicked it out the window before pulling up in the school parking lot– a spot he'd earned by passing each of his classes with a B or higher. Killing the engine, Jace slowly stepped out. Usually, as he walked in the side door, he'd see Darren's dad dropping him off. This time he waited, so they could talk before the others tried to shove him in lockers like he egged them on to do. He waited, and lit another cigarette, checking the time on his phone. In the sea of faces, he could pick out a friend or two, making their way to the group, but he couldn't see Dare, and when the first bell rang, he sighed and stepped out his smoke. Maybe he'd come too late, or maybe Darren was running late.. He'd just have to catch him later.
On his way to class, he bumped into Jason; a man of about 5'11” with short brown hair, and green eyes. He was one of the friends who also had a fake I.D., and even went out of his way to make himself look older by growing out whatever facial hair he could manage to grow. If you needed alcohol, this was the guy you sought out. Jace wouldn't go as far as to do that, because the last thing he needed was to get caught.
“Hey,” He said, looking up to Jace, “Alex was looking for you earlier. He says he has something to give to you?”
The blond scrunched up his face, furrowing his brow in confusion, “What are you talking about?”
“I don't know, man,” Jason shrugged, continuing on his way to class, “Catch you later.”
When he jogged away, Jace stood there stupidly for a moment, then shook his head a little and made his way to first period. He shared third period with Alex, but didn't see him in there, and began to get curious. Obviously, he was at school, but for some reason, avoiding class? The blond glanced to the back row when the class emptied, looking to the desk he'd seen Darren sitting at the other day. He was still nervous to speak to him..
Finally, lunch rolled around, and he made his way outside and pulled out another cigarette as he made his way to his friends. Jason was there, and a couple of the others, and none of them noticed him approach. For some reason, it was a little off-setting how they were standing so close and talking so quietly, so he tried to listen in before they noticed him, “...taken care of,” Alex's voice was soft, “They asked a few questions, and even searched my bags, but dude, I ditched the knife–“
“Oh, hey, Jace.” Jason nodded to him, alerting Alex, who turned to face him. They nodded their hellos, and Jace got closer, taking another drag off his cigarette.
“What are you guys talkin' about?” He was interested, but he couldn't help himself looking around the school entrance for Darren. Usually, he'd head for the park, and smoke where he thought no one would notice. In the background, he heard one of them say 'nothing' in response to his question, just as he'd noticed a rusty, beat up old Bug pull up; Darren's father's car. He didn't see Darren, though.
“Whatever,” Another drag, and he tossed the butt aside, “what did you want to give me, Alex? I have a prior engagement, and you've wasted enough of my time today, having to track you down.”
“Sorry, dude, I was in the office for third. Here,” He began to dig around in his pants pockets, only to find the folded paper in his pocket, “got it back for you from your stalker. You're welcome.” He said it with a laugh, then nodded a goodbye, walking away with his friends. Jace was more confused now, than he had been before, and his amber eyes fell to the paper. It was dirty, and wrinkled, and when he opened it to see his schedule, he remembered putting it in his textbook. But where could they have...
Darren.
All he could do was stare at the piece of paper, with his list of classes, doing his best to connect all the dots. What was he supposed to think? How had they gotten it from Darren, and why did Darren have it in the first place? Slowly, Jace began to walk back toward the school entrance, not even interested in lunch right then. Had his friends...done something to Dare? He wasn't sure he wanted to think about it, especially seeing the boy's father climbing out of his car, looking like he hadn't slept in days. Horrible images assaulted his mind, and he tried to keep them back. He was just sick. The boys had ******** around with him like always, and he'd gotten sick over the weekend.
“Mr. Casey.. It's nice to see you.”
The man turned to face him, seeming surprised. Even for looking like he'd lost sleep, the man's clothes were still neatly assembled as Jace could ever recall from the past, his silver cross gleaming against the black of his shirt, “Ah.. Good afternoon, Jace.” He didn't look at him long, grabbing paperwork from inside the car, and then closing the door harshly; there was no other way to close that door, it was falling apart, “I'd love to stay and chat, but I'm a little busy.”
“Where's Darren?” It slipped out before he could catch himself, but he didn't look away, or try to retract his question. Instead, the worry touched his face, “I really needed to talk to him today, see..”
“He won't be back for a few days, I'm afraid.” His eyes softened behind his glasses, and he looked to the ground, “I didn't realize the two of you were talking again. He... Never talks to me anymore.”
Jace frowned, and sighed a little, looking to the ground as well, “We actually just...recently started talking again. Is he alright?” When Darren's father looked back up to Jace, he actually seemed genuinely confused, as if he'd just realized that Jace had no idea what happened. By then, he'd assumed word had spread, at least in the high school. He'd already made a police report, but there was so little to go on when Darren refused to say anything, “I don't mean to pry,” Jace continued, pursing his lips, “but you're taking so long, I'm actually getting...worried.”
“He was attacked on his way home last Friday..” His voice sounded pained, “Someone stabbed him, and left him to bleed out on the side of the road. If it hadn't been for a neighbor walking her dog...”
“What?” Jace's voice caught in his throat, pain and anger shooting all throughout his limbs, his hands balling into tight fists, “Did he tell you who did it?”
“I was actually.. Hoping that once word had spread to the school, someone here might have the answer, because... Darren keeps telling me that he's not a narc, and won't say anything else. Jace.. Since you two are talking, maybe you..”
His head was still spinning, worry turning to rage. It hit him then; the conversation he'd overheard, the schedule, Alex being in the office for all of third period... The school, and the police must have been questioning them, and now he was the one to find out Darren had been stabbed, and know who it was that did it. He couldn't just rat his friend out, especially not being sure, “I'll.. Definitely come talk to him after school today, okay? When you see him, tell him I said to keep in high spirits.” Mr. Casey seemed relieved, and even smiled just a little. Awkwardly, they said goodbye to each other, and Jace sprinted ahead, desperate to get back to Alex and put him in his place.
