We are now past the 100,000 words mark. Yikes. If it all goes as planned, it shouldn't break 200,000, but knowing how carried away I can get, you just never know. But thank you to everybody who's stuck with this story that long – you are all amazing and I appreciate ever last one of you. You rock.

The Shawshank Redemption doesn't belong to me (nor does Drew's unique opinion of it!)

Chapter 35 - Good Friday

"Is that all of them?"

Mom's voice was in that dangerously high place that always made Drew feel incredibly guilty even when he didn't do anything to cause it. It allowed every word she said to seamlessly travel though the wall that separated Adam's bedroom where she stood to Drew's own bedroom where he sat, failing to do his homework. He could hear every sharp word, ringing like a shrill bell.

"What about the bedside table?" he heard her ask. "Anything over there?"

"No," Adam mumbled. The contrast between his voice and Mom's was so drastic, it sounded like he was in a completely different room - a different house even.

"So just the two in the desk drawer, the one in your backpack and the two in the wardrobe?"

"I think so," Adam said. "They come in a pack of six, I think."

"Well, where's the other one then?" Mom demanded, but sounding strangely unthreatening. "I have five lighters here."

"It's probably still lying on the table at school where I was…"

Adam trailed off. Drew could hear the floor creak as Mom presumably moved nearer to Adam (who Drew was pretty sure was just sitting on the bed.)

"And I guess," Mom started to say, her voice creeping up even more. "I guess I'll take the box away too."

"Yeah."

The floor started creaking again as Mom apparently picked up the box of clothes and headed out the room.

"And Adam?" she said.

"Uh-huh?"

There was a long pause before Mom said anything. Drew could feel himself lean closer to the wall, crossing that line from just happened to hear to actively eavesdropping.

"Leave the door open," she said flatly before her footsteps disappeared down the stairs.

Drew heard the heavy flump as Adam collapsed onto the bed. He considered getting up and talking to him, but he figured that Adam was having a bad enough day without Drew saying the wrong thing and screwing it up more. He considered calling Alli, but he just couldn't be bothered talking to her. And the homework was definitely not getting done anytime soon.

He eventually got up and trailed down the stairs to see what Dad was watching on the television. Dad was always the best person to be around when Drew didn't want to talk.

"Hey," Drew called out as he walked into the living room. "What you watching?"

"Just waiting for the movie to come on," Dad answered, moving his bowl of popcorn off the space on the couch for Drew. "The Shawshank Redemption, you seen it?"

Drew shrugged, he'd never heard of it. It sounded pretty heavy.

"It's good," Dad insisted. "Got nominated for a ton of awards."

Drew still wasn't convinced; movies that got nominated for a lot of awards usually had a lot of talking and crying and nazis and stuff. They weren't typically cheerful.

"It's the ultimate feel good movie," Dad persisted, offering Drew a handful of the popcorn. "You couldn't ask for a better cure for the blues."

Drew looked behind the couch, though the archway and into the kitchen where Mom was sitting quietly with a cup of coffee in her hands, half a dozen lighters scattered around her on the table and a box of her non-daughter's old clothes by her feet. He shoved a whole handful of popcorn into his mouth, deciding that even if the movie was overly-talky, that it was at least a distraction from everything else. And besides, he could do with watching a feel good movie, even if it was one of those boring Oscar-bait films.

"Oh, hey that dude's in Anchorman," he exclaimed when the film eventually started. "Now that's a feel good movie!"

"Yeah," Dad grinned. "I'm sure Anchorman is just as much of a seminal classic as Shawshank Redemption."

"Uh-huh," Drew nodded, reaching for some more popcorn. "Is that Morgan Freeman?"

Dad was wrong. The Shawshank Redemption was probably the most depressing movie Drew had ever seen; he couldn't even get to the end it was so dismal. First the dude from Anchorman (who just so happened to be named Andy, which just ended up making Drew unreasonably angry) got put in prison for something he didn't even do, then he got beat up and gang raped by a bunch of prisoners, then they wouldn't let Morgan Freeman out of jail (even though he was Morgan Freeman). They wouldn't even let them fix up the library (and Drew never thought he'd find himself rooting for a library). Drew had finally had enough by the time the old man prisoner committed suicide; it reminded him far too much of what Clare had told him. There was no way life could magically get better after that; too many horrible things had happened – things that couldn't be undone or taken back. Even if the dude from Anchorman did get out of jail, it wouldn't change the fact that he was beaten up and abused and wrongfully imprisoned for at least ten years. The only good thing in his life was a poster with a hot chick on it; what kind of miserable existence was that?

It was basically the worst movie ever made. It did absolutely nothing to make Drew feel any better. He'd probably have felt less miserable if he sat in the kitchen and watch Mom stare sadly at a box for an hour instead.

He silently excused himself from the living room and tromped back up the stairs, trying desperately hard not to think about all the things he had just seen; it just served to remind him of how hard everything was; people being unfairly caged with no means of escape, then getting beaten up and harassed, feeling so alone that the only option is to go back to the little halfway house and-

He stopped himself. It was just a movie; it wasn't real.

But Clare's warning was. Drew's life was. Adam's "contraband" sitting on the kitchen table was.

Maybe Drew would call Alli after all; she could talk about something stupid and meaningless and Drew could feel distracted for a little while-

"Hey."

He stopped. Adam's door was still obediently open, but Drew wasn't expecting anyone to pipe up through it.

"Anything good on TV?" Adam asked, sitting hunched up on the bed and looking impossibly small.

"Some prison movie," Drew shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. He wasn't sure how close he was allowed to get, it still felt like there was an invisible barrier that had been put up. "What've you been doing?"

"Sitting. Thinking."

Drew shuffled over slightly, moving from the doorframe to the wall beside the door.

"What about?"

Adam didn't answer straight away; he appeared to be studying Drew, which just made him feel weirdly exposed. He tried to look as normal as possible, but realized that he had no idea how to do that.

"Do you ever think about the future?" Adam finally asked.

"No," Drew scoffed, taking a couple of steps further into the bedroom. "Why would I spend my time thinking about things that haven't even happened yet?"

"Oh," Adam said quietly, turning into himself even further. Drew felt himself move back toward the wall again.

"Do you ever think about the future?" he asked cautiously.

Adam nodded.

"All the time."

Drew considered pushing himself off the wall and wandering over to the bed where Adam sat all curled up, but something was stopping him. He wasn't sure what but he had the strangest feeling that gravity was trying to push him out of Adam's room and back into his own. He wanted to say that Adam thinking about the future was probably a good thing in his case; at least he thought he had a future. But that seemed like a dangerous thing to say, and he didn't want to put any weird ideas into Adam's head that might make him think otherwise.

"Like, I have to go back to self-injury therapy now," Adam said without prompt. "And it's group therapy, and I hate group therapy."

"Well you wouldn't have to go if you weren't being so stupid in the first place," Drew retorted. "You promised that you wouldn't do that again."

"Well you promised that you'd have my back from now on!" Adam snapped.

Drew felt himself sink into the wall slightly.

"You know what? I'm sorry," Drew muttered. "But I'm trying my best here."

"So am I," Adam said quietly.

Drew wasn't expecting the words, or for them to hit him right in the chest. He couldn't even properly explain why they hit him so hard. He pushed the feeling down to join all the others and cleared his throat.

"So," he said perhaps just a little too loudly, "why do you hate group?"

"They're all just so judgy," Adam groaned. "Nobody wants to be the most messed-up person there, so they make it this weird competition to see who can be the least dysfunctional person, and I always lose."

"Really?" Drew said, actually committing to pushing himself off the wall. "Because you're like the most functional person I know."

"No I'm not-"

"Name one person that we both know who's actually normal. Go on, name one."

Adam tried to look like he was concentrating, but couldn't quite stop himself from smiling.

"Well it's not fair to put me on the spot like that!"

He unhunched. Drew finally stepped over the threshold and crashed onto the bed beside his brother.

"Does this mean you're not mad at me anymore?" he asked.

"I was never really mad at you," Adam said quietly. "I was just…"

He starting pulling on a non-existent piece of lint on the comforter.

"I don't know," he muttered. "I guess sometimes I feel like you don't take me seriously. Like as a guy."

Drew felt his stomach flip over. He thought about how quickly he was willing to go back to the way things were. How quickly he had failed. He didn't really feel brave enough to respond.

They both just sat there, painfully aware that the words were hanging in mid-air, bleeding out and causing a growing tension as they remained unaddressed. It went on much longer than what was socially acceptable, turning into a weird game of silence chicken. Once it felt like a competition, it seemed a lot easier for Drew to win. And he did.

"Like, you're always trying to hug me and stuff," Adam blurted out.

"Well what's wrong with that?" Drew asked defensively.

"What guys do you hug?"

"Well guys don't really hug-"

"-See?" Adam exclaimed pointing manically. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. It's not allowed."

"It used to be," Drew said before he could work out if it was a good idea or not. "And you never got huffy about it before. So, what, was that all just an act or something?"

"No, but-"

"So why was it okay then, but not okay now?"

"Because… I don't know," Adam admitted.

Drew was a little dumbfounded. Adam always had an answer for everything - it was one of his most annoying traits. It was usually Drew who didn't know his own feelings. He wasn't sure he liked it the other way around.

"It's just…" Adam sighed, "it's complicated."

"I hadn't noticed," Drew deadpanned.

Adam laughed, chasing all the tension away.

"So…" Drew began carefully, "It's not that you hate me?"

"Of course I don't hate you," Adam scoffed before taking a deep breath and more sincere expression. "You're kind of my favorite person."

As soon as he said it, Drew was sure he wanted to take it back. He had tensed up so tightly that Drew was sure that something should snap inside. It must have taken a lot from him to open up like that. Drew couldn't imagine how hard it must have been to open up like that, apart from the fact that he could totally imagine it.

"Yeah," Drew said, his voice sounding strangely unsteady, "you're my favorite person too."

Drew didn't let the words sit for too long. He pushed himself off the bed before Adam could get all "guy defensive" at the mushyness and headed for the door, leaving the conversation on a high note.

"Leave the door-"

"-Got it," Drew nodded before slinking into him own room.

He collapsed into his own bed and stared at nothing. His mind wandered to Friday, a day he wasn't particularly looking forward to. It was probably going to be rough. Drew suddenly found himself remembering why he didn't think about the future. Because Drew knew that no amount of good could make up for all that bad.

It was going to be just like The Shawshank Redemption.

.

oOo

.

Drew was convinced that Mom was driving to school much slower than usual; that car journey seemed to take forever.

Usually Drew wouldn't mind taking a long time to get to school (it just meant more time before he had to get to class), but he was feeling particularly anxious; he had no idea what was in store when he walked into those hallways, but he figured that it probably wasn't going to be good.

Mom kept taking deep, assertive breaths, as if she were about to say something important, but she never actually did. She just sighed instead. Drew found himself doing the same thing; he was sure that he was somehow slowly deflating. Adam didn't join in; he was already pretty deflated.

It wasn't until Mom pulled up to the school that she actually said anything.

"Remember I'm taking you to counseling straight after school," she said, turning to Adam in the passenger seat.

"I know."

"And Drew, Dad will pick you up."

"I know."

"Okay," she said, clenching and unclenching her hands on the steering wheel. She seemed as if she was about to say "have a great day" just like she always did, but instead she just trailed off.

"Well," she started, "I'll see you then."

"Sure," Adam said, staring at the school entrance.

"Yeah," Drew added, hoping it would somehow be useful.

She took a deep breath again, making Adam stop as he made his way out of the car. She sat, mouth slightly open as Adam waited for her say what she was going to say.

"You should go," she said quietly. "You don't want to be late."

Adam shrugged, muttering something that Drew couldn't quite hear and made his way out of the car, Drew following very close behind.

"Stay with me," Drew murmured as they walked quickly into the lobby. Nobody said anything, or even noticed them walking down the hallway; they were all too busy with other things.

Drew was so busy watching the people not looking out for them, that he somehow managed to lead them both to the people who were.

Drew didn't know where Clare and Ghoulsworthy's lockers were, but he had never seem them hanging around his or Adam's before, so he could only assume that they had been waiting for them.

Adam made a determined beeline straight to them, leaving Drew to run behind him to catch up.

"Hey," Adam said, nodding rigidly, trying, and failing, to be casual.

"Hey," Ghoulsworthy echoed nonchalantly. "We missed you yesterday."

Adam looked down at his feet as he shifted his weight between them.

"Yeah, I uh-"

"Glad you're back," Ghouls- Eli, said, half-smiling.

"Really glad," Clare added, throwing her arms tightly around Adam and pulling him in for a hug.

Drew felt very aware that he was just standing there, watching as three friends talked to each other (and as Adam gave Eli a strangely guilty glance after Clare hugged him.) But nobody told him to leave (and he didn't particularly want to) so he found himself tagging along with the three of them as they walked down the hallway together.

"So," Eli said, "I thought about what you said about Clara."

"Oh?" Clare said, titling her head.

"I've made her a little less Theda Bara and a little more Mary Pickford."

"The girl with the curls?" Clare asked.

"I don't know," Eli sighed, "I guess I just have a thing for curls."

Drew had no idea what they were talking about, at all, but was glad that they were at talking about something nice and normal (or at least as nice and normal as someone like Ghoulsworthy could manage.)

"Hey."

They were stopped by Alli, smiling sweetly at Drew, Sav standing behind her.

"Mind if we join you?" she asked. "It feels like we haven't talked in forever."

Drew didn't even answer before she slipped under his arm, interlocking her fingers with his. He felt like saying thank you to her, but for what he wasn't sure. Sav, towering over all of them, stood behind Drew and Adam.

"So, Adam," he began, "I learned the lead part Paisley Jacket. You still remember the bass line?"

"Uh, yeah," Adam said, apparently unsure of what was going on, "sure."

"Cause I was cleaning up my volcano ash and I was thinking "man, I miss being in a band" and then I remembered that you play bass."

"Uh-huh?" Adam managed to say, still sounding confused (Drew was still stuck on "volcano ash.")

"So…" Sav continued, "If you ever want start up a band, or just jam or whatever-"

"Hey, guys!"

Jenna beamed at them all, K.C.'s hand tightly grasped into hers.

"Hi K.C.," Clare nodded, "Jenna."

Clare said Jenna the same way Drew did; he knew there was a reason he liked her.

Jenna ignored Clare's tone and stood on the other side of Alli. K.C. high-fived Drew and joined Sav to become the pair of giants in the back. The eight of them started walking down the hallway again.

"Oh my god," Jenna piped in. "Did you hear what Dave Turner did in M.I.?"

"No, what?" Alli asked eagerly.

"So he shows up to class in his underwear-"

"-What?"

"-No, that's not all," Jenna continued. "He's in these little boxers with the hearts on them and starts doing, like, lunges on the exercise balls. In front of Miss Oh!"

"Oh my god," Alli gasped through laughter. "I love Dave, but he's an idiot sometimes."

Drew ignored the "I love Dave" part and laughed along with everyone else. He appreciated them all in that moment, even Jenna. Especially Jenna, since she was the one making everyone laugh.

He was starting to think that maybe things weren't going to be as awful as he thought. He looked over to Adam, who still seemed to be talking it all in. Drew nudged him on the arm.

"Wow," he said, smirking, "that's quite some army you got there."

- I debated putting Jenna "We played poker once" Middleton in this chapter. But I kept her in, because, unlike Drew, I don't actually hate poor Jenna! Also "we walked down the hallways once as an unspoken symbol of support and solidarity" would probably be a weird thing to say to Becky.

In the next chapter: Fire. Lots of fire.