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“I’m Mr. Stiles,” I announce, quickly retrieving a syllabus and forcing a smile, trying to hide the chaos in my mind. “OK, you only missed one class. Please review the syllabus and remain after the class. I’ll bring you up to speed with whatever you require.” He gives me a quick once-over, nods subtly, and finds a seat at the far left, keeping his distance from everyone.
OK then.
I cast my eyes once more on the spot where Brayden sat yesterday, but there’s no sign of him. Although, I can’t help but notice Trayton, intensely brooding, while staring at Daxton. His anger is clear and palpable. I sense the need to monitor closely whatever that is.
As I face the class to begin today’s lesson, my mind continues to reel, consumed by thoughts of Brayden’s whereabouts. I assign a research task for the class to complete on their laptops and slump down at my desk. As I survey the students, myattention is drawn to Kal, who hastily glances away from me and focuses on his paper as if he hadn’t been staring at me moments ago. His tense shoulders give away his discomfort after I caught him staring at me. I squint my eyes staring at his head, which is cast down, concentrating on his work, and decide to get up and take a walk up to speak to him. When I approach, Trayton remains fixated on me without saying a word. Trayton and I exchange nods, his eyes briefly shifting to Kal and then back to me.
“Kal,” I utter, causing Kal’s head to tilt up as he directs his attention toward me.
Clearing his throat, he says “Sir,” and then resumes working with his head down. There’s something about this kid and his inability to make eye contact with me I can’t understand.
“Where is Brayden today?” I question whoever wants to give me an answer out of either of them.
Kal inhales deeply and mutters under his breath, “Not sure.”
Trayton’s eyes flicker down to the front again at the new kid and then back to me. I shoot him a skeptical glance, raising my eyebrow. While crouching down, I catch Kal giving me a side-eye and Trayton maintaining his usual blank expression.
“Look, I know he’s your friend and I get it, and I don’t want to have to tell Denny that Brayden didn’t show up today. Are you going to tell me where he is?” Inhaling deeply, Kal’s shoulders sink down as he keeps his focus on the paper, idly toying with the pen in his hand. However, Trayton clenches his fists, and stares down at the newcomer. “Does Daxton know where he is?” I question, causing heads to turn in our direction. I arch my eyebrow at Trayton.
“Sir, he’s probably not feeling well. I’m sure he will be in bright and early Monday morning,” Kal says through clenched teeth, clearly irritated at my questioning.
“Can I go to the toilet?”Trayton bites out. I signal my approval with a nod, and he proceeds to walk past me, maintaining a constant death glare with the new kid. As Trayton reaches the front, he lifts his head, and they lock eyes. The situation seems tense, and it’s clear that something has happened. Is this kid a friend of Brayden’s? I’m assuming he was at some point.
Fucking students.
“You know I’m going to have to tell Denny,” I sigh out to Kal, but Kal shrugs
“You do what’s necessary. It’s your job after all,” he remarks indifferently, and continues working. I exhale in frustration and make my way back to the front, sinking into my chair.
I miss my office job already.
When class comes to an end, I signal Daxton to stay seated so I can go over the syllabus with him. He doesn’t appear best pleased by the exaggerated sigh he makes as he slouches down in his chair, but after today I truly couldn’t give a fuck. I knew my students were going to test me, but fuck. They’re a bunch of nineteen-year-olds and some of them act as if they’re fourteen-year-olds. Too much drama for my liking.
“How did you find today?” I try to keep my tone calm as if what happened earlier with Trayton didn’t happen. Daxton shrugs, his leg bouncing up and down frantically.
“It was OK,” he mumbles, his eyes darting everywhere except toward me. Before I can continue, he interrupts. “I glanced at the syllabus. I got it, I think. If I have questions, I’ll let you know.” He stands, picking up his bag.
“Wait.” I place my hands in my pockets, trying to come across casually, not wanting to put pressure on him to answer me. He glances over his shoulder at me. “What was all that earlier? I won’t stand for any kind of bullying in—”
“It’s cool, sir. There’s no trouble.” He interjects with a tight-lipped smile. “See you tomorrow.” He turns and heads for the door and all I can do is watch him leave, knowing for a fact there is trouble. I saw the way Trayton stared at him. It was pure hatred, indicating this isn’t something minor either.
Chapter seven
Brayden
Everyone waits for the coach to enter the locker room. The tension ramps up for me every minute that goes by. Kal paces the length of the dressing room in front of me. His head cast down and his eyes harsh on the floor as if the bare sight of it disgusts him. He’s game-ready, but anyone from a mile away can see the nerves that strum through us, and we aren’t even meant to know about the scouts. King flips his lucky coin in his hand, staring into space. The locker room is deadly silent. I get my headphones out of my pocket and get myself into my zone. I can’t start a game day without listening to my song. “We Will Rock You” by Queen, blasts through my headphones as I let my head slip back against the locker and I close my eyes. Every time I listen to this song, it takes me back to the good days. Days when Mom was sober, and not drunk, or on drugs. A day, we would wake up, and she would have breakfast at the table waiting for us. “We Will Rock You” was Mom’s favorite song. The song used to blast through the trailer every day sometimes. On thegood days, Mom would play air guitar with Bex and me. When we were fully immersed in the groove, we would stand on the kitchen table and strum the guitars. These were the days when our beautiful mom would gaze at us as if we were her sunshine.
I still don’t know what went wrong. We were eight years old with a great life and an even greater mom. Then the next thing I know, we were nine years old, and our mom was no longer our mom; she was a shell of the woman she was before. Life was easier. Not like this morning when I woke up to a message from someone in the trailer park telling me there had been trouble at my mom’s trailer again. This is happening way too much. When I arrived, everything was eerily silent, no one was outside, everyone’s doors were closed. When I entered the trailer, everything was trashed. Mom was locked in her bedroom and Bex was laying on the bed, covered in cuts and bruises. After cleaning up the trailer and Bex waking up, he told me there was some trouble with the guy he deals with. Karl is a piece of work and doesn’t care about anything other than, alcohol, drugs and money. I ended up being there all morning cleaning Bex up, which caused me to miss morning classes. I still haven’t had a chance to properly thank Kal and Tray for covering for me in class this morning.
Everything in my mind changes, and images of Bexley’s sunken cheeks and soulless eyes flash in my mind. I played the song to him and did the air guitar while he lay there, staring at me as if I had lost my mind, his lips tipping up slightly, but he was too drugged up to care or move.
The days I would try to get my brother back, but he was already gone.
Then my eyes spring open as the claps and stomping filter through the headphones from the beat, and the reasons I need this so badly swarm to the front of my mind.
For Bexley. This is all for my twin brother.
The song ends and I pull my headphones out as Coach walks in, and we all stand up and huddle together. Coach gives us our usual prep talk, and we all slap each other’s helmets and head toward the ice. The tension is thick, you could cut it with a knife the minute our skates hit the ice. My eyes glance over at the other team, who seem out for blood. I smile, baring my teeth through the helmet.
