Chapter 104.

There was a time (albeit a brief one), when all of the Tracy brothers attended the same school.

Prescott Cove Academy was a sprawling complex on the outskirts of Phoenix, close enough to the city to enjoy the suburban public transport links, but rural enough for it's students to benefit from the clean country air.

The school compound contained separate buildings for each educational tier, from elementary school up to high school. As an institute, it enjoyed a close link with the University of Arizona, which acted as the main destination for approximately three quarters of its graduates.

The year 2051 was an unusual one for the Tracy family. For the ten months dividing September from July, all five brothers were together on the same campus. Scott and Virgil were in their final years of high school (one and two years to go, respectively), while John was commencing his freshman year. Gordon was one year into his time at middle school, and little Alan had just started attending elementary full-time.

It was an odd arrangement, but it worked in the boy's favour. Prior to her death, Lucy had waxed lyrical about the fuel she'd saved only having one pick up and drop off point for all five of them.

A common misconception most people held was that the arrangement benefitted the boys on a social level as well as a practical one. Being together on the same campus meant that none of them were ever without a lunch buddy, plus the older ones could keep an eye on the younger ones when after school clubs were on the agenda.

That assumption was, regrettably, incorrect.

While Scott and Virgil occasionally shared gym class, none of the brothers saw hide nor hair of each other most days. The campus was simply too large for them to bump into each other between classes, and their separate timetables meant that no opportunities existed for contact time during lessons.

Thankfully, the field where students were allowed to go for breaks and lunch was communal. Grades one through twelve mingled on the sun bleached grass of the courtyard every morning and afternoon, children and teenagers alike seeking shady relief from the unforgiving Arizonian sun.

"What have you got next?" Scott asked around a mouthful of pasta salad, blue eyes scanning a paragraph in his geometry textbook.

"Classical Civilisations," Virgil replied, sliding his lunch tray onto the picnic table Scott had nabbed for them in the shade of an ironwood tree, "You?"

"Social Studies," Scott grumbled, spearing a piece of tomato and munching angrily, "We're supposed to be looking at Power, Authority and Governance, but the framework says we're due to move on to Global Connections this week. I'm tying myself in knots over what pre-reading I should and shouldn't be doing."

A third tray suddenly found its way onto the table.

"You should have used the weekend to read ahead," John smugly informed, his braces glittering in the shafts of sunlight filtering through the leaves above their heads, "You'll need to have reached at least chapter four in Governing Globalisation to have a reasonably comprehensive overview of the subject. You can borrow my notes if you want."

Virgil intervened before Scott bit through his fork, "Uh, John? Aren't you three grades below us?"

The redhead shrugged and proudly held up a piece of work that had a massive A+ stamped at the top, "Ms Kapoor reckons I'll make the fast-track program before the end of term. If my GPA holds, I should be able to skip my sophomore year and jump straight to being a junior next summer."

Scott muttered something rude and took a swig from his water bottle. He knew he should be proud of John for skipping a grade, but the competitive side of him refused to acknowledge his brother's academic acceleration. He only hoped the redhead wasn't also thinking of applying to Oxford.

A fourth tray materialising brought the current conversation to a welcome halt.

"Hey, squirt!" Virgil greeted, ruffling Gordon's hair as he claimed the vacant stretch of bench next to John.

Scott frowned as Gordon heaved himself up with some difficulty, his face red from exertion. It had been a week since the dreaded doctor's visit and he and Virgil had taken proactive steps towards curbing their younger brother's calorific intake. Gordon was now limited to one sandwich, a piece of fruit and no pudding at lunchtime, which although healthier, seemed to be having a negative influence on his mood.

"Chin up, squirt," Virgil enthused, splitting his chocolate brownie and pushing half in Gordon's direction, "You've been doing well with Scott's new eating regime. Have a treat. Remember, calories don't count if it's someone else's food."

The glare Scott shot his immediate brother was enough to strip the bark off the tree they were sat under, but Virgil needn't have worried. Gordon took one look at the chocolaty offering, buried his head in his arms, and started to cry.

"Hey, hey!" Virgil exclaimed, rushing round to the other side of the table and hunkering down next to his sobbing brother, "What's up Gordo? Do you feel poorly?"

A wet hiccup.

John fished a tissue out of his bag, "Are you hurt?"

Another wet hiccup.

Scott's turn, "Did you get in trouble with one of your teachers?"

A shaky gasp, followed by a fresh round of sobs.

Scott glanced at John, who glanced at Virgil, who shrugged in despair.

"Gordon, we can't help if you won't tell us what's wrong," John sighed, quirking a brow when Virgil shot him a look, "What? It's true. How are we supposed to work through the problem if we've no clue what the problem even is? Also, am I the only one who can see how much snot he's getting on his shirt?"

"It's alright little guy," Virgil soothed, gently prying Gordon's dolphin rucksack off his back and wrapping an arm around his now vacant shoulders, "You can talk to me and Scotty. What's bugging you?"

The unwelcome clanging of the bell that signalled the end of lunch brought an abrupt end to Virgil's humane interrogation attempt. Snatching his rucksack off the grass before any of his brothers could stop him, Gordon toddled off for afternoon registration, mopping his face with his sleeve as he went.

A beat of silence passed before Scott zeroed in on the uneaten sandwich his brother had left behind, "Oh for god's sake, he didn't even eat anything! He'll never make it through fifth and sixth period on an empty stomach. No wonder he's in such a tizzy."

Virgil sighed and brushed the grass off his trousers, an air of defeat about him as he reached for his own schoolbag.

John meanwhile, was staring after Gordon like a collie tracking a stray sheep.

"John?" Scott waved a hand in front of his ginger brother's face and nudged him with his shoulder, "Five minutes until we have to be in our homerooms. You'd better finish eating and pack up, quick."

"Go on without me," the redhead muttered, his eyes locked onto Gordon's retreating backside. When both Scott and Virgil refused to move, he pretended to busy himself with needlessly sharpening a pencil, "I'm on hall monitor duty, so don't have to attend afternoon registration. You two had better hoof it, lest you end up in detention."

The threat of being forced to stay after school was sufficient to send both Scott and Virgil hurtling across the courtyard, their blazers flapping in the wind as they bolted in separate directions towards their respective homerooms.

John hadn't been lying when he'd said that he had hall monitor duty, but had stopped short of confessing that he wasn't on the rota until tomorrow. He just needed a couple of seconds of uninterrupted privacy (sans brothers) to get a good look at the two boys who had joined up with Gordon and were walking with him towards the intermediate block.

And who had, from the looks of things, just deliberately tripped him up.

-x-

One of the perks of being a high school hall monitor was that John could exercise his authority across both the elementary and middle school buildings.

There were seldom any issues at elementary level that required his intervention, however the middle kids were capable of causing their fair share of drama. Still, tracking down stolen colouring pencils beat the heck out of breaking up snogging sophomores in the bathrooms.

A couple of young girls eyed him warily as he entered the foyer of Gordon's building, however relaxed when he gestured to the lanyard swinging about his neck. A quick check of the timetable outside his brother's homeroom showed that Gordon had English as his next lesson, which would place him on the second floor, third door on the right.

Under the guise of delivering fresh ink for the printers, John sidled into classroom 4EA and surreptitiously made his way to the back of the room. The teachers were all familiar enough with him to not pay his presence much mind, and the kids seemed too engrossed in a reading activity to notice him.

He took his sweet time switching out the old (and still half full) cartridges, eyes locked onto Gordon's hunched back. His younger brother was doing a commendable job of becoming one with his desk and seemed utterly disengaged from the activity that was occupying the rest of the class.

Perhaps most concerning was how Gordon didn't even glance up when the teacher softly called his name. It took two more tries and a hand on his shoulder before he snapped out of whatever daydream he was in, cheeks flushing crimson as he sheepishly showed off his blank page.

John sighed, his own lack of focus almost causing his finger to get trapped in the paper feed path.

Thirty more minutes of inactivity on Gordon's part passed before the tell-tale scream of the lesson bell echoed around the room. It's shrill drill was met with a cacophony of scraping chair legs, closely followed by every kid in the room stampeding towards the door.

All bar one.

Gordon still hadn't noticed John hovering in the background, his attention occupied by a stray bird that had landed on the outside window ledge. He seemed determined to delay gathering up his things for as long as possible, and it was with an undeniable air of reluctance that he began loading his supplies into his rucksack.

The teacher had already packed up and left by the time Gordon was ready to depart. Trapped in his own little world, the fourth Tracy waddled towards the door, his heart sinking when he remembered that his next class was French, which meant he'd have to (somehow) clamber up two flights of stairs without dying.

He was starting to regret skipping lunch.

"Hey, Tracy!" a voice jeered, jolting Gordon back to reality, "What took you so long? Got wedged behind your desk again?"

John felt his hackles rise as he moved towards the door to eavesdrop, careful to keep his tall frame concealed behind the cover of a filing cabinet.

"Have you heard the rumour?" another voice piped up, "Apparently, word got out that your mom's so fat, you get lost trying to walk around her. Oh, wait…nope, that one was about you."

An explosive laugh pinged around the now empty hallway. John felt cold rage wash over him as he wordlessly pulled out his phone and hit the icon for audio recording.

"Let's see what tasty snacks your brothers packed for you today," the first voice sneered. A minor struggle ensued as Gordon was robbed of his rucksack, "Fibre One bars and carrot sticks? Ha! That's rabbit food, Tracy! Hey, maybe your brothers are planning to lock you in a cage the next time they catch you trying to raid the fridge, huh?"

John's eyes narrowed in hatred. The insults Gordon's aggressors were throwing were more mature than what he would have expected from a middle schooler. Perhaps these boys had been held back a year (or three?). It would certainly go some way towards explaining their despicable behaviour. Where was a teacher when you needed one?

"We'll take these off your hands," voice number two interjected, "According to the ingredient list, these Fibre bar things contain chocolate and honey. Not very conducive to losing weight now, are they? If you're feeling peckish, the potted fern on Ms Stone's desk could use a bit of a trim. Failing that, there's a courtyard full of grass for you to graze on."

A clang from the follow-up bell acted as an unwelcome reminder to all students that they had five minutes to get to their next lesson.

"Catch ya later, Tracy!" voices one and two taunted, "Good luck getting up those stairs on time!"

Unable to listen any longer, John closed his phone and stuck his head out into the hall, his usual formalness on temporary hold as he scanned the corridor for his brother.

The sight that met his eyes was one he'd never forget.

Gordon shuffling off down the hallway, his head bowed as he pulled his school shirt down over the little roll of tummy that had managed to escape from the waistband of his trousers. John couldn't see his face, but it was obvious from the way his shoulders were shaking that he was crying.

It took all of John's willpower to maintain the rather shaky grasp he had on his shit.

Bullies.