Author Notes: My huge thanks go out to super manako sohma, Bethany C MacKenzie and tazrr for the encouraging and always appreciated reviews, and also to all those who favourited and alerted! I'm aware this chapter took much longer than it should have and I apologise – I thought I'd have more time to write, being off over Christmas, not less! The slash isn't coming until later in the story I'm afraid, but it's getting much more into that whole 'hormonal boys in an enclosed environment' thing from the next chapter, lol. Having things happen any faster would mean the whole thing feeling rushed and I didn't want to do that. I just hope this chapter doesn't disappoint! Drop a review and let me know what you thought.
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Sometimes I don't feel right, nerves wound up too damn tight...
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The gym rapidly became the centre of attention, the first teacher who arrived on the scene actually screaming girlishly while grabbing his phone, needing three tries before managing to call the emergency services. A second teacher came in while the call was being placed, saw the body and went green. Gregory started to feel as if he were in a farce.
"Sir?" he said to the second teacher, glancing around and seeing that Damien was nowhere in sight. Just as well. Gregory was aware that his own attitude was detached and clinical, but the way Damien had taken pleasure in the accident – that was just cold. Gregory felt a fresh surge of hatred for the other boy and forced his mind back onto the subject at hand; the last thing he should be doing was thinking of Damien. "We've all just witnessed a terrible accident. Perhaps it would be an idea to remove the class from the scene?"
The teacher nodded distractedly, if Gregory guessed right, he wouldn't even recall later that it hadn't been his idea in the first place. Raising his voice, the teacher spoke shakily. "Boys, I want you all to go to, uh, to the cafeteria. Wait there, don't go anywhere else, there'll be someone there to um, check on you. Yes. Well, don't just stand there, move!"
Gregory rolled his eyes, but obediently headed for the dining hall. The man's voice had become more certain with every word, the simple act of being able to do something cutting through his shock. At least he was acting now and not looking like he was about to throw up.
The group didn't change from their gym clothes, merely went to the dining hall and waited until a teacher showed up, making low, stilted conversation among themselves. Even that eventually dried up. There was no other topic that could realistically be discussed, but there was only so many times a person could relive the salient facts. Gregory didn't even bother to do that, just leant his elbow on the table, chin in hand, thinking things through.
That had been extremely odd. It didn't seem possible for a sturdy fitting like the ones in the gym to completely tear from its screws like that, even if one side had gone, the other should have kept it attached to the ceiling even if only for a short time. He liked to think he was pretty observant of his surroundings, but there had simply been no warning, not so much as a sound.
Or maybe there had been something, some noise he'd missed while lost in his annoyed thoughts just before it had happened. Because Damien had been looking up there, hadn't he? That Gregory had seen the fitting fall was because he had been trying to see what the bastard was watching. Perhaps there had been some noise and Damien had heard it – which led Gregory to consider the distasteful possibility that Damien had seen what had been about to happen and elected not to issue a warning. That he'd kept quiet in the hopes of Mr Morgan being injured, to gain some petty revenge at the imagined slight in the moments before.
Gregory gave a mildly frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair and thinking ruefully that he must be unusually dishevelled right then, after the fight and all. Maybe he was a little upset by events, because now he was finding excuses to assign Damien with psychopathic tendencies. Damien was a cruel, callous wanker with entitlement issues but he wasn't the badass he pretended to be either. If Damien had heard something from the fitting before it fell, it probably hadn't registered with him that there was something wrong. Ordinary people didn't think something was a danger until the problem was obvious and that was all Damien was; ordinary. Although it would kill the boy to actually admit it.
After a short time, the head teacher entered and told them what they had already seen for themselves; Mr Morgan was dead alright. The boys who had seen the incident were to be free of lessons for the rest of the day and the following day, also, the school was finding them counselling. Gregory almost laughed at that, he should have expected it really. The school board would be terrified of being sued should one of the students have 'emotional issues' resulting from witnessing the accident or not being cosseted enough afterwards and they would already be looking at a huge lawsuit from the Morgan family. Yardale would respond by suing whoever installed the lights, who would sue the manufacturers and it would all take ten years to decide who was to blame. There was no such thing as an accident anymore.
Perhaps it was a string of unfortunate coincidences, the screw might have given and the others were too weak alone to hold the weight of the fitting. Pure human fuckery at work, coincidence putting Mr Morgan beneath it. Gregory might not like coincidence, but they did happen sometimes. And far more likely than any other explanation.
The head did a quick check on who was missing from the class who had seen the incident; three boys, the one who had initially reported it and was back in his room, the one who had fled to puke, and Damien. No one mentioned the fight and for that small mercy, Gregory was grateful. When the group were finally allowed to return to their rooms, Gregory took off with purposeful strides, wanting to get changed but having no intention of talking to Damien about events after the boy had left. He planned to entirely ignore him. He was used to people being dispassionate about death, but Damien's comment about the teacher deserving it had been cold and Gregory had been offended by it.
But Damien wasn't in their room when he returned, nor did Gregory see him again until a few minutes before their established curfew. That added a bright spot to an otherwise shitty day, although not so much as the call he got shortly after the evening meal. When his phone rang, he expected it to be one of the other students inviting him somewhere or asking something homework-related, as was usually the case, but the caller ID clearly said CdeL. Christophe. Gregory raised an eyebrow before answering, Christophe always texted first to advise he was calling or to ask Gregory to call him, to ensure they wouldn't be overheard by another student.
"Hello," he said, trying to keep the curiosity and cheer out of his voice and still not using names because he never did in his room, even if he was alone. "Is everything alright?"
"Zat's what I called to ask," replied Christophe in his smoke-roughened voice, accent still thick even after years of living in America. Gregory blamed it on him being home-schooled, unsociable and stuck living with his equally heavily-accented mother throughout his formative years. Not that he found the voice objectionable... rather the opposite in fact. "Zere was something on ze internet about an accident at your fucking fancy-ass school. Thought I 'ad better make sure you 'ad not broken your wrist learning some secret club 'andshake."
This time, both of Gregory's eyebrows went up. Christophe had Yardale on his internet news alert? He hadn't even considered the man would use such an application, let alone have it set for Gregory's whereabouts. And in spite of the condescending words, he could detect genuine relief in Christophe's voice that he could only surmise came from hearing him answer the phone.
"Why, you sound almost concerned," he said, leaning back against his pillow and sending a silent prayer of thanks that Damien wasn't there. It wasn't often he got a snatched phone call with Christophe during term time, even less often one as informal and honestly surprising as this one. He decided to leave out that he'd been present for the incident, it wouldn't achieve anything and was stupidly over-dramatic. "It wasn't me. A piece of the roof fell on the fencing teachers head, killed him."
"A piece of ze roof?" Christophe's voice was disbelieving, but Gregory knew the other well enough to hear the suggestion of a smile in it. "Are you sure 'e didn't give you a bad mark and you killed 'im for it?"
"Trust me," replied Gregory with a smile of his own, the events of the day and all the aggravations that had plagued him lately fading at the prospect of having the chance for actual conversation with the mercenary. "His death was nothing at all to do with me."
~:~
Mr Neff's office was painted white, but the walls barely showed due to the neatly ordered mahogany bookcases against two walls, the large window on the third and the door on the fourth. There was a painting on either side of the door, both done in dark colours and a desk in the centre of the room, also mahogany. The carpet was a dark green. Everything about the room was masculine and muted, slightly intimidating, particularly if one were a student summoned to the office.
Damien may have been a student, but he wasn't intimidated by much, let alone some room, and he certainly hadn't been summoned. Rather, he had invited himself.
"Is there something I can help you with Damien?" asked Neff from his position behind the desk.
"Yeah." Damien didn't take a seat, preferring to stand and look around, disguising his true intent with nonchalance. "I wanna see Greg's records."
"There's a strict code about showing the students records to anyone who's not authorised to have access," said Neff absently, looking up.
"I know." Damien caught Neff's gaze and held it. "Show me anyway."
Wordlessly, Neff opened his laptop and performed a few actions, pushing the machine across the desk toward Damien. Damien took it and sat in the chair opposite, scrolling through the information rapidly. None of it seemed especially relevant, save for a surprisingly long disciplinary record – Gregory, it seemed, was unafraid of speaking his mind and had ruffled quite a few feathers in the past, not to mention all the trouble he had gotten into with Damien's help. There was the usual background information, parents names and contact details, siblings (none), blood type, allergies and medical history. Damien lingered over the medical history, noting with a raised eyebrow that there were no mentions of what might have caused the scar on his chest, or the one on his bicep, or the one on his thigh. He could have put one omission down to an oversight, but all three? And it wasn't as if they were deemed unimportant either, there was everything in the report, right down to routine childhood illnesses like chicken pox. The oversight seemed strange and Damien was certain it was deliberate or, more likely, that the details weren't there because they had been dealt with by someone who didn't go in for keeping records.
He scrolled through schooling history rapidly, but two words seemed to jump out at him as he did so and he paused for a second before scrolling up again. precededFor Gregory, Yardale had been preceded by a military academy and that had been preceded by a very brief stint at a public school. Gregory had been eight; the school had been South Park Elementary.
Frowning, Damien worked out the dates. He too had attended that school in that year... but no, they hadn't been there at the same time, he had gone earlier in the year and had left before Gregory had begun. Still, he didn't like it one bit. South Park had a reputation for attracting certain types of people and certain types of events, the right person at the right time. That Gregory had been there so briefly suggested to him that it had happened again – and another simple calculation told him it had been during the American-Canadian war, arriving immediately before the conflict and leaving immediately afterwards. The right person at the right time; Damien would just bet the pretentious bastard had something to do with the entire affair.
Troubled, he checked the rest of the records and found nothing else of use. He was uneasy and he hated that, it seemed that maybe Gregory's presence at Yardale was less of a nuisance and more of a threat. A threat he was sure he could take care of, but a threat nonetheless.
~:~
Gregory and Damien managed to avoid exchanging a single word until they were placed back into classes again, ignoring each other totally the night of the teachers death and the following day. Both were called into a counselling session, the specially employed psychiatrist who'd been called in writing in his report that both were dealing with the shock in the best way that could be expected. Both boys were careful not to trigger any warning bells on that score. Gregory would have enjoyed the peace more had he not noticed Damien watching him carefully at odd times. There seemed no real reason to the observation, Damien apparently wasn't trying to provoke a reaction for once and it put Gregory's nerves on edge. But the silence, at least, was pleasant.
It couldn't last though and being in classes again meant they were forced to speak, at first sticking to the subject at hand in clipped, abrupt tones, followed by veiled comments displaying their dislike of each other. Still, they managed to get through the day without a real argument, although Gregory noticed that Damien's mood, not good all term, seemed to get blacker all the time.
There was noticeable tension among many of the students that day, caused by the prospect of gym class. There had been two teachers and several boys opined that perhaps it would be cancelled, no substitute had been drafted in to replace Mr Morgan yet and their remaining teacher, Mr Pasarian, was heavily overworked right then. Those hopes were dashed when he showed up, sinking further when it became clear he planned to take out his stress on them by working them to death. Even Gregory, who was in excellent shape and used to the man's behaviour since he was also coached the rugby team, thought it was excessive. He didn't complain however, because not only would it have done no good, they were doing track and track meant no partners, which meant no Damien. It was worth the pay-off.
The showers after were filled with complaints and excess amounts of bitching, but no one could deny it was still better than their last gym session, for obvious reasons. Gregory wandered to his locker afterwards with a towel wrapped around his waist, conversing with Ethan while he put on his pants, donning his shirt and leaving it unbuttoned while he took out his wallet and opened it. He wasn't especially worried about checking his cash or anything like that, money occasionally got ripped off but none of the students actually needed it and Gregory didn't carry much anyway. But he did keep the gold crucifix he always wore in there while he was in gym, so that he didn't break it or lose it. He opened the compartment he'd put the chain in. Nothing.
Frowning, he checked the rest of the wallet, then the locker, although he knew for sure he'd put it in the wallet. No joy, the chain was gone, although his money and cards were still there.
"Fuck!"
Ethan glanced at him, mildly surprised at the emphatic curse. "What's wrong?"
"My chain's missing. I put it in my wallet when I got changed and now it's not here."
"Maybe you forgot to put it on this morning and it's in your room," supplied Ethan. Gregory bit back a snappish retort. He and Ethan had shared a room since he arrived at Yardale up until that term and in all that time, he had only ever removed the chain during gym. That Ethan hadn't noticed that fact didn't surprise him but the implication that Gregory had merely misplaced it was annoying. The crucifix itself had been a gift from his parents, with some sentimental value although it wasn't irreplaceable. And he always wore it, always, much to Christophe's annoyance.
"I didn't forget it."
"Look, your wallet's still there, and the money. I know the chain was worth money, but why would anyone take just that and not the whole wallet, or everything in it? I bet it's in your room somewhere."
Pissed off, Gregory checked the locker again and came up empty, it hadn't fallen from the wallet and been moved when he pulled out his clothes. It had definitely gone and it couldn't have been an accident. But Ethan had a point, who would take a chain and leave the money?
Gregory refrained from slamming the locker with effort and turned, to see Damien, already dressed and apparently about to leave, heading his way and ready to walk past him. Yates, who had shared a room with Damien prior to Gregory, was following the boy and chattering excitedly about something, his girlfriend by the sound. It was against the rules to date the girls from the local town, but it was one rule that was rarely re-enforced. Although Gregory would have thought Yates would be the last person to get one of the famously aloof locals and didn't care about the boys social life at all, it had been clear even to him that Yates was wholly smitten. If Yates had thought it would win him cool-points with his clique though, he had to be disappointed. Damien was giving no indication that he was even listening to his so-called friend.
As Damien drew almost level with them, his eyes focused on Gregory and he smirked, a wholly fake look of concern on his face. When he spoke, his voice was level but Yates stopped talking as if he'd shouted, perhaps knowing Damien would think his own conversation more important. "What's up Greg? You look stressed."
Gregory's eyes narrowed. Damien was nothing like easy-going, trusting Ethan and he was pretty sure he didn't miss much either; Damien would know that gym class was the only time Gregory ever removed the crucifix. He was also the only person that wanted to rile Gregory up and the type to do something that left his victim in no doubt who was behind their misfortune, along with no way to prove it.
The thing was that Damien had been in class along with Gregory the whole time, meaning he couldn't have taken the chain. But he had friends who were more like minions, three of them weren't in their gym class and they certainly could have taken it. Although the information and the orders to do so would have had to come straight from Damien, the others wouldn't know enough about Gregory to know where it would be and the only time it wasn't around his neck.
Then he checked himself, he was starting to get seriously paranoid. That was more like a conspiracy theory than a logical plan, a lot of effort for a nasty little prank.
"No stress," he said evenly, masking his dislike even though the other knew it was there. "I left my crucifix in my room."
"I thought you never took it off."
"You'd know," said Gregory, unable to help the jibe. "You haven't taken your eyes off it for the last three days."
Damien's superficially concerned face immediately became angry. "I don't like what you're implying Greg. Are you saying I took it?"
"I didn't say it had been taken." Gregory raised his eyebrows. "I said I left it in the room. What are you implying, Damien?"
There was a slight pause, then Damien took a swing at Gregory. Gregory had been half-expecting it, although he wouldn't have done usually – Damien was the only person Gregory knew who had the same kind of self-control as himself. But Damien's recent mood wasn't conducive to covering rationally for his slip and he'd already proven ready to scrap at any moment.
For his part, Gregory had decided he'd had about as much as he could take. It had been bad enough until now, but the thought of people going anywhere near his personal things infuriated him. Damien wasn't a trained fighter and his actions gave away the move he was about to make before he made it, throwing a punch directly at Gregory's face. For most people it wouldn't have been enough warning, but Gregory jerked his body aside so that Damien's fist sailed past his head and collided with the locker behind.
Damien hadn't been holding back and the sound of flesh hitting steel was loud. Gregory was smugly sure what should happen next; Damien would split his knuckles and pull his hand back, whining perhaps or maybe pretending that was what he had intended to do all along, but certainly wary about doing anything further.
That was what should have happened next. What actually happened was that Damien hit the locker, pulled his fist back without acknowledging any pain and grabbed Gregory's unfastened shirt instead, pulling him closer and then shoving him back into the lockers. That move Gregory hadn't seen coming and it took him completely by surprise, not giving him the chance to take preventative measures.
He rebounded from the lockers and instinctively launched himself forward again, mildly annoyed with himself, he'd been way off with that judgement. But this wasn't something he could let go, not if he didn't want the rest of the term to be a living hell. Not if he didn't want Damien to win. Ethan and Yates backed off and started shouting, protests or encouragement, Gregory didn't know or care. All he knew was that their shouts would attract the other students attention and the time for backing away, had backing away ever been an option, had gone.
Gregory used his forward momentum, planting his hands on Damien's chest and shoving him hard. Damien took a couple of stumbling steps back and for a second it looked like he'd go over, then he saved himself by grabbing Gregory's shirt. The pair grappled for long seconds, trying to wrestle each other to the floor while landing the occasional hard punch to their foe. For a short time they were evenly matched, but Gregory was almost sure he was about to get the upper hand. It seemed certain that Damien was more nervous than he was letting on, already his skin was too warm...
And that was when Mr Pasarian ploughed through the cheering students and grabbed both their shirts, trying to separate them. They both disregarded him, neither willing to be the first to give in, and he finally managed to get in between them, forcing them apart and meaning they'd have to punch around him to continue. Gregory took a step back, eyes narrowed at Damien but knowing the incident was over; the teachers authority had ended things as decisively as a wall between them.
Damien looked up.
Gregory's own gaze immediately went up there too, the memory of their last fight and what happened in the aftermath still fresh in his mind. And it was deja vu, gym class, both of them brawling, teacher pulling them apart...
The ceiling remained intact, nothing falling. Gregory looked back at Damien and saw the boys slow, deliberate smirk and raised eyebrows. Gregory glared at him, wondering just how many people would miss the tosser if he had a little accident and the body was never found. Probably no one.
"You boys." Mr Pasarian turned from one of them to the other with deep disgust etched on his face. "Eighteen years old and fighting like nine year olds. I will not stand for it, not now. Detention. Both of you. The moment your lessons end, you will both be back here and you will both be doing cross country. Three miles. And if you're still not to tired to fight, I'll just find you something else to do! Get dressed and get out of my sight."
Gregory buttoned his shirt, finding his tie and fastening it quickly. Damien merely gave Yates an imperious come-along gesture and left the gym with the boy trotting along after him. The students started to disperse with the show over, Gregory still having to hold back from punching the locker, hard. He wasn't sure he could put up with this until July. Damien wasn't being so sneaky about pissing him off anymore and he was on edge for some reason, what that might be Gregory didn't know or care. All that mattered was that he could live with Damien's comments and random meanness, but if the other boy was going to get physical then Gregory would have to deal with it. Which meant either losing face with the other students (and more importantly with himself) by being beaten, or getting into some serious trouble with the school authorities and looking like a loose cannon by giving Damien the kicking he so richly deserved.
Damien got under his skin. But judging by Damien's actions, it wasn't entirely a one-sided thing.
Gregory and Damien spent most of the rest of the day snarling at each other through their mutual classes but never quite crossing the line of what was acceptable. They avoided each other where ever possible and Gregory rather suspected that Damien would skip out on detention. So he was surprised and dismayed when at the end of the day, he got to the gym fifteen minutes after the end of his last class and found Damien already changing into his gym gear. Perfect. Brilliant. Just what he didn't need, more forced proximity with Damien.
They didn't speak at all, until the teacher sent them outside the school to do their cross country – there were fields outside which while officially not part of the school were used by the students all the time, mostly for things like cross country. The teacher informed them of their route, then leaned against the wall with a magazine, watching them over the top of it.
"Thanks a lot," snarled Damien as they began jogging slowly away from the school.
"Hey, you threw the first punch," said Gregory, keeping pace easily with Damien and deciding not to mention the crucifix that had caused the row. That it had vanished pissed him off but there was a good chance it would 'mysteriously' show up back in the room now that Damien had put himself in the frame for taking it. "You got us into this."
"You're a supercilious bastard," muttered Damien, still seeming unusually moody – his usual tactics involved mocking, not direct insults. He fell silent, although he didn't seem to be conserving his breath. More likely he just didn't have anything to say. Which, Gregory mused, would be a first.
The run was not exactly a hardship for either of them, aside from the punishment aspect and the time it consumed. The start was the hardest going, over the marshy field that ran the length of the road to the school, around the perimeter and then on the road itself back to the school. Maybe a mile and a half. It would have been easier had they not been supposed to do it twice.
Gregory spent the jog contemplating his situation. It was strangely comforting to know that Damien could be wound up. It always seemed to be Gregory who lost his cool first, a situation he was definitely unused to with anyone else. He had disliked the feeling that he was the out of control one while Damien managed to keep his cool – but maybe the tension had been affecting Damien after all, since this was the second time in a week.
At least this time, no one had ended up dead.
They completed their first lap and Gregory became aware of the subtle rivalry that they had somehow developed during their punishment. Damien was refusing to let himself drop behind, every time one of them pulled ahead, the other immediately drew level. It meant that they were running alongside each other, through through competitiveness rather than rueful misery over their shared fate.
They hit the smooth stretch of road for their last half mile, neither of them especially out of breath. Damien's sullen brooding hadn't lifted and Gregory was glad; he didn't think he could cope with the boys jibes and comments right then. Then they would be sent back to the sports hall to shower and then released – Gregory hoped that Damien's little band of losers were planning to drag him off somewhere, because he'd like to get some semblance of peace and he hated having to rely on the library or Ethan's room to get a break from Damien.
The sound of an engine travelling the road toward the school filled Gregory's ears. He frowned; he was on the outside, closest to the traffic, while Damien jogged closest to the field. He glanced at the other briefly. "Shove over."
"Make me," replied Damien.
Gregory rolled his eyes, but decided not to force the issue, or drop back or move forward to run in single file. Damien would no doubt pull some stupid stunt to make such a manoeuvre difficult and the road was wide enough for the car to avoid him. And if he tried to push Damien, their teacher was watching in the distance and would see him.
The engine got louder quickly and Gregory started getting concerned. The car, whomever it was, seemed to be going at a fair speed. He glanced back over his shoulder, seeing a nondescript Ford heading their way, toward the school. The car slowed slightly, the driver clearly seeing them although Gregory couldn't make out the driver at the distance and the glare of the sun on the windscreen.
Damien turned to look too, apparently only curious.
As soon as he looked back, the car sped up again, tyres screaming as the car surged forward. At the same time it swerved, heading right for them.
The thought that it was some stupid prank entered and left Gregory's head before it could be properly acknowledged. If this was a joke it was about to backfire spectacularly, the car wasn't changing direction and was going far too fast to hit the brakes and avoid smashing into them.
Gregory's instinct kicked in before he could wonder about what the hell was going on, unconsciously deciding on a course of action. He lunged to the side, grabbing Damien and throwing him too, both of them crashing into the field and rolling. A scant second later, the car sped past them, churning up mud and spraying them both with dirt, but missing them – just. The wheels passed mere inches away from Damien's head..
Gregory raised himself to his hands and knees as quickly as he was able, looking up for the car. It had barely slowed, but the driver had whipped the car around and was fighting for control, attempting to straighten it up.
It was heading back for them.
Gregory grabbed Damien's arm, trying to yank him up. At the same time, he was frantically trying to plan. They couldn't outrun the car and there was nowhere they could take cover. They were totally exposed and the driver, for whatever reason, seemed determined to run them down.
Damien didn't get to his feet, instead raising a hand as if in some futile attempt to protect himself from the oncoming collision...
...And the car suddenly changed course.
Gregory was certain the wheels didn't turn, that they remained locked on course to hit them – and yet as soon as Damien moved, the entire vehicle seemed to turn, as if moved faster than the eye could see by some invisible hand.
The driver finally hit the brakes, but it was too little, too late. The change in direction had set the Ford on a collision course directly for a tree in the centre of the field There was a loud crash as metal crumpled and the car finally came to a stop.
Damien rose slowly to his feet, and as Gregory turned to look and make sure he was uninjured, he saw the other boys eyes narrowing.
A moment later, the car erupted into flame.
"Shit!" Gregory took a few hurried steps backward, startled. Although the crash had been serious, it hadn't seemed as if there had been imminent danger of an explosion. And what had happened could hardly be described as an explosion anyway. Gregory's eyes had been momentarily off the car and he wasn't an expert on crashes, but shouldn't the fire have engulfed the petrol tank and blown it up? Instead, the fire seemed to have started within the cars interior, the seats igniting and burning fiercely, far too quickly for anything to be done.
The drivers screams were agonised but mercifully brief.
Gregory gazed at the mess, shocked at what had just happened... and worried. Something had been very wrong with that, aside from the obvious of someone trying to kill them for no reason he could see. The way the car had veered away from them, the strangeness of the fire, it had all just been – weird.
Damien hadn't moved from his former position, the flames casting shadows over his face. Gregory took a few steps forward, wondering if maybe his room mate was in shock. But a closer look seemed to deny that opinion. A grim smile played over his face, his eyes fixed on the burning vehicle displaying an uneasy mix of satisfaction and anger. It was a trick of the flames – it had to be – because at that moment, Gregory could have sworn Damien's eyes were red.
"Get away from there!"
Gregory jerked his head up, realising that Damien too was turning to look behind them. Mr Pasarian, apparently momentarily frozen at the rapid action, had finally decided to move and was approaching them with some caution, no doubt afraid of the car exploding properly.
"Are you hurt?" He didn't wait for a reply, seeing them both on their feet and drawing his own conclusions. "Get back to the school. Explain what happened to the head, I'm calling – I'm calling someone..." He seemed shell-shocked, not that Gregory much blamed him.
Damien didn't respond, merely walked away. Gregory paused long enough to see the mobile phone in the teachers hand before catching up with him. Damien wasn't hurrying and that wasn't usual, most civilians in Gregory's experience would be breaking their neck to get help. Gregory was well aware that the driver was beyond their help, but he found the lack of urgency disconcerting.
They were both caked in mud and grass stains, Gregory noticed. People would think they had been fighting again, when in fact he might just have saved Damien's life.
Damien glanced sideways at Gregory, not seeming terribly concerned by the events that had just happened. Gregory found that disturbing too. He was more used to that sort of thing than most people and the very suddenness had taken him by surprise. He suspected his hands might even be shaking, now adrenaline was coursing through him and the danger was past.
"Nice reflexes back there," said Damien grudgingly.
Gregory wondered if that was supposed to be thanks. If it was, he didn't think much of the gratitude. Once again he was tempted to put it down to shock, only Damien really didn't seem very shocked. He wasn't even displaying the glassy calm that came with delaying shock. It was as if he had merely taken the entire thing into his stride, as if people tried to mow him down on a daily basis.
"What the fuck was that all about?" Gregory asked sharply.
Damien shrugged, but Gregory noticed that his former sullen demeanour was either hidden or entirely gone, replaced by his usual disdainful good humour. "Some prick trying to make us jump. Sure worked on you." He turned his head to look at Gregory, eyebrows raised. "Unless you've got enemies that determined to see you dead and if so Greg, I'd rather you didn't walk with me. No offence."
Gregory scowled, not liking how close to the truth Damien had inadvertently skirted. "Whoever it was wasn't messing about. He missed you by an inch the first time and the second – he had us dead bang. There was no way we could have avoided him, or out-run him. What the hell happened?"
He was treated to another shrug, a gesture he was getting heartily sick of. "I guess he realised he was gonna hit us and tried to swerve. Lost control and boom. Fucking moron."
"The wheels didn't move," said Gregory before he could censor himself. "They were locked straight at us and then – I don't know, it was like the car was suddenly going in another direction. Like it was moved..." He trailed off, realising how impossible it sounded, how stupid.
Damien looked back at him expressionlessly. "You're traumatised."
"I am not fucking traumatised!"
"Oh? You think the car was moved by the wind? Telekinesis? Magic? Are we studying at Hogwart's now?"
"Of course not."
"Then it had to have just veered. The fuckhead lost control, that's all." Damien smirked. "Although I can see why you'd misremember what happened. You've had a terrible shock. Poor thing."
"You fucking..."
"Boys!" The principal was hurrying to the gates, presumably having seen the fire or been alerted by Mr Pasarian, although it seemed unlikely that enough time had gone by for the teacher to alert the authorities and the school. "What happened?"
"Someone crashed a car," said Damien, sounding bored. "Pasarian's dealing with it."
The Principal looked momentarily thrown. "I want you boys to go get cleaned up and be in my office in one hour."
Gregory nodded and Damien smirked, both of them walking through the gates and toward the school. Damien looked up at the window. "I'm gonna go use Sam's shower."
Damien took off and Gregory stared after him for a moment before heading to their shared room. He wasn't sure why Damien had chosen to be considerate, but he was glad of it – and maybe it wasn't that Damien was being considerate, perhaps he was more shaken than he had let on and was just trying to get away from his arch enemy before he showed it.
Gregory let himself into the room, stripping off his filthy sports clothes realising he'd left his phone along with his bag, back in the sports hall. His first instinct had been to contact Christophe and find out if he should have been expecting someone to put a hit on him – but a car, a hit and run in a semi-public place with witnesses? That seemed unlikely. Even given the improbability of someone they'd pissed off finding out his name, his school and that he would be jogging at that moment, the weapon of choice was all wrong, amateurish. If someone were to take him out, it would more likely be a sniper. So the driver was unlikely to be after him, which meant there was no need to trouble Christophe with what had occurred – Gregory hated to admit to Christophe that he might be anything less than perfectly capable. He hated to admit that fact to anyone, but Christophe's opinion mattered more than most peoples.
The second option was that Damien had been right and it had been a stupid trick gone horribly wrong. But that didn't ring true either. The driver was deliberately heading for Yardale and hadn't veered slightly to startle them – he had driven right at them, then turned to do it again.
But if it hadn't been a trick and he hadn't been after Gregory, then the only other target there was Damien.
Gregory could understand completely why someone would want to kill Damien – he battled the urge every day. Damien was an arse and his frequent unpleasantness had probably made him plenty of enemies over the years. But there were degrees of dislike. This hadn't been a mean prank or petty vengeance, this had been an attempted murder, along with taking an apparently innocent bystander with the intended victim. As tiresome as Damien was, it would take a lot of bitterness to go to those extremes.
No, it was unlikely that the driver had been targeting Damien. He was a normal rich kid who fancied himself as something special, but in truth he was completely average and no one could hate him enough to see him dead.
But if that was the case, then just what the hell had the driver been playing at?
With a sigh, Gregory turned the shower on, adjusting the temperature – Damien had used it last and he always left it on a stupidly high temperature, hot enough to scald – and climbed under the spray, sloughing away the dirt and sweat that had accumulated from the run and the dive into the mud. He turned over the incident in his mind, attacking it with relentless logic. It was possible, he supposed, that due to the stress of the situation and the speed it happened at and the distance he had been from the car, that he had merely not seen the front wheels turn as the driver fought to avoid hitting them. There was a chance that a fire could begin inside the car rather than in the tank, perhaps there had been something inside that had been dislodged during the crash and created the fire. Perhaps it was a stupid, dangerous joke gone too far.
He didn't like that explanation though. The whole thing had been too weird to be put down to sheer accident – but then again, when Damien was around, there were a lot of weird accidents.
Gregory shampooed his hair, lost in thought. That much at least was true. This was the second incident in a week that Damien had been indirectly involved with – although looking at it like that, Gregory was indirectly involved too. He'd been present for both, Damien wasn't alone in that respect. But nothing even remotely similar had happened before Damien had arrived at Yardale.
Well it was a coincidence, Gregory told himself uneasily as he ducked his head beneath the spray. It had to be. There was no other logical conclusion. Because there was no way that Damien could have caused any of the things that had happened, that much Gregory had witnessed for himself.
But he didn't like it one bit. It was far too many coincidences to be a coincidence - and yet, there was no other rational explanation.