Sorry, this took so long. This chapter is quite a bit longer than I usually write, so maybe that will make up for it.
Just a small note, I changed the setting from November to January because I didn't want to have to deal with holidays.
Anyway, please enjoy!
~TH~
Jack ducked into his third period class, making his way to the back of the classroom. His headphones were sitting around his neck, the chord hidden down his shirt. The room was loud, but it always was. The noise made him slightly uncomfortable. There was too much going on for his brain to really process. His only goal at school was to not be seen and make sure they never had a reason to call his guardian.
He was thankful that it was a study hall. It was the only time he really got any sleep. He pulled up his headphones, not even paying attention to which song started playing. He put his head on the desk and let himself fall asleep.
~N~
He jolted awake, breathing heavily. A teacher stared at him. She seemed to look frightened. Her hand was resting lightly on his shoulder. Jack jerked the headphones down, not sure exactly what was going on.
"Jack?" The teacher, Ms Bowry, said kindly. "I'm sorry to wake you, but the office just called and said they needed to speak to you."
Jack could feel all of the colour drain from his face. He was in trouble. He wasn't even sure exactly what he did. Maybe they had caught him grabbing stuff from the cafeteria last week. Or someone saw the bruises. He hadn't hidden them well enough and now people were talking. That was somehow worse.
"I'll uh, I"ll go then." He stood up, grabbing his bag.
Ms Bowry stepped back, but the look of concern didn't leave her face. He couldn't worry about that. He had enough problems to deal with.
The walk to the office was agonizing. He raked through his mind trying to find a reason he was being called. He'd been careful. Sure, he'd stolen things. He'd stolen food, and paper, and even the occasional lost and found object. But he hadn't in a while. And he had never gotten caught.
It could be about his home life. Before Snyder he had been homeschooled, but it wasn't uncommon those first several months to be called into the office to talk about how things were, how he was adjusting. It was then that he had realized that he was actually a pretty good liar. Not that that was something he should be proud of, but it was useful. Plus, they asked the question, but they never seemed to actually care. They never checked, or looked me in the eye or did anything to truly make sure he was okay. Maybe if they had he...
He didn't want to go down that line. It would just make things worse for him. The less he thought about it the better things would be. Sure, things were getting worse. Snyder was getting more violent, more angry over the smallest infraction. Jack wasn't even always sure what he had done. But there was no reason to think about it. He was stuck in the position he was in with no getting out for now. He could make it this last year.
He stood awkwardly outside the door to the principal's office. After a long moment, he finally gathered the courage to knock on the door. He heard a muffled "Come in,". Jack took a deep breath, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans.
Mr Kloppman looked up from his desk, offering a brief smile. Jack relatively like Mr Kloppman. He was an older gentleman, late fifties, early sixties, and had been at the school for years. He was generally well liked among the students and faculty, however, he was known to occasionally be oblivious. Regardless, he always seemed to have the best interest of the school at heart.
Jack stood behind one of the two chairs in front of the desk. He held his right arm while his left hung loosely to the side. "Uh, you wanted to see me?"
Kloppman looked up, "Yes! Please, take a seat."
Jack did what he was told. There was a long pause of silence while the principal looked through some papers. "Um, am I in trouble or somethin'? I swear I haven't done nothin' wrong." He cursed silently, whenever he was nervous, he tended to revert back to street talk, slurring his words together in an improper way. It was a habit he had mostly abandoned once he started school, but it still came up on occasion.
"No, no of course not." Kloppman looked up with a reassuring smile, "I just wanted to talk to you about your schedule."
"My schedule?" Jack repeated, unsure of what he meant.
"Yes, this is your second year here, correct?"
"Uh, yeah."
Kloppman nodded, "I was looking through your file and noticed that you don't have an elective. People usually pick one freshman year, but since you didn't come until you were a sophomore, it was overlooked."
"Elective? Like football and art and stuff like that."
"Precisely. I know it's second semester, but if you wish to graduate on time, you'll need to start taking one."
Jack didn't actually care much about graduating. He was going to turn eighteen next December and had no intentions of continuing school after that. His only intention after that was to get Charlie and go. Where? He didn't know. But he was getting out of the city.
"It looks like the only open elective is drama class," Kloppman handed Jack a piece of paper, "Just sign your name there and you'll be added to the class. It's third period, so you won't have a study hall."
Jack nodded, signing the paper. He could say goodbye to sleeping.
Kloppman smiled, taking the paper, "Wonderful, you can start tomorrow, go on and get ready for your fourth period class."
With a quick nod, Jack left the office.
~N~
Lunch was the only good thing about school. Free school lunches were not something every kid got to enjoy. The fact that he was a Foster Kid put him at the top of the list for free food and it was something that he was thankful for. Without it, he had to wonder if he'd eat at all.
The food wasn't good. It never was. But it was edible and it made him less hungry. That's what mattered.
He pushed up from his seat, tray in hand. He was the lone occupant of a table at the far corner of the room. It wasn't that he wasn't capable of making friends. He probably could if he tried. But, Snyder didn't like for him to talk to people. Jack wasn't exactly sure how he would find out if he talked to people at school, but it was better not to risk it. Better just to do whatever the man said then to risk his anger.
"Oh look, it's Kelly."
Jack tensed as he heard the call from behind him.
"Heard you signed up for drama. That's nice. Maybe you could play a trashcan. It'd be a very fitting role." A kid was sitting on top of a table, several others crowded around him. They all laughed almost as if on demand.
Jack had no clue how they knew he was in drama, but it didn't matter. He had heard worse insults and the kids were just trying to get him riled up. He turned away, and kept walking.
"Hey!" Someone grabbed his arm and spun him around. "I'm talkin' ta ya!" The boy had moved and was now tightly squeezing Jack's arm. Using his other hand, he knocked the tray out of Jack's hand. "I don't like bein' ignored."
Jack remained silent. He couldn't afford to get into a fight. That would look bad, He already had a record of violence. He'd had one before he even got to the school. People were always waiting for him to make a wrong move.
The boys at the table were laughing. Jack just wanted to get away, Then a hand slapped against his face. His breath caught in his throat and he closed his eyes. Sound seemed to fade out as he waited for more. It was never just one. It might start with a single slap but it often ended with him unable to move on the floor.
A splash of something cold brought him back to the present. He rubbed at the orange liquid that was running down his face. He was pushed away and stumbled back until his back hit something. He stumbled forward after being shoved from behind.
"What's going on, boys?" A voice came from behind him.
Jack cringed. He knew who he had just run into.
"Heya, Spot." The bully said, "Just teaching this kid his place."
Jack turned around to see the captain of the football team, Spot Conlon. He involuntarily took a step back.
"I see," Spot watched Jack for a moment, staring at his face. Then he took a step forward and grabbed Jack by the collar of his shirt, bringing him down so that his ear was next to his mouth. "You wiped off your makeup. Pull up your hood, then go to the bathroom and fix it." Then he shoved him, but Jack could tell it wasn't nearly as hard as it should have been,
Feeling panicked, Jack pulled up his hood and dashed out of the room. He could hear some of the boys laughing. He didn't care. He had to get out.
~N~
Jack looked at himself in the mirror. The bruising wasn't extremely noticeable. He wasn't exactly sure how Spot had seen it so quickly and then noticed that he had been wearing makeup. What was even more confusing, was why he cared. Jack didn't think that he would tell. If he had planned on telling people, he wouldn't have told him to fix it. But, still, the fact that someone had noticed made him feel sick to his stomach.
The bell rang, signalling the beginning of fifth hour. It was government or history or some civil rights class, he couldn't remember. He didn't really care. He was tired. He just wanted to find a place somewhere and sleep.
He sighed, applying the foundation he had in his backpack. He tried to keep some everywhere in case something happened. Some in his room, some in his locker, and some in his backpack. He never knew when something like this would happen.
Finishing, he zipped his backpack up and headed to class.
~N~
He was late. He knew he was late. That didn't stop the embarrassment he felt when all eyes turned to him.
"Ah, Mr Kelly, you decided to join us."
He shrugged, "Thought I might as well stop in and see what all of the fuss was about." He grinned. People expected him to be cheeky, so long as he stayed on the "slightly lazy but still generally ignorable" side of the line instead of the "he's a problem and we need to involve his guardian" side of the line, he would be fine.
The teacher rolled her eyes, "I assigned a group project. Since everyone has already gathered into groups, I'll have to assign you one." She looked around the room briefly. "You can join that group," she motioned towards where a boy and girl were sitting.
Jack nodded and sat down across from them. They both jumped slightly at his sudden entrance. "I've been assigned to your group. Jack Kelly." He looked the two kids in front of him up and down. The girl was rich. There was no question about it. The boy didn't look quite as rich, but he was definitely well off. They both looked smart and he could already see the judgment in their eyes. They didn't want him there. That was fine. He didn't particularly want to be there.
The girl spoke first, "Katherine Plumber, this is David. Did the teacher tell you what the project was about?"
"Nope."
He saw her roll her eyes and glance at the boy who shrugged.
"We're supposed to analyze what it means to be free. We need to write a paper, have someone present it, and have some form of visual aid."
"Before you came over we were talking about it." The boy, David, spoke up for the first time. "I said I would present and Katherine was going to write it. Obviously we'll still have to plan everything together to make sure it fits right."
"What about the visual aid?"
They both looked at him surprised, "What about it?"
"Whose doing that?"
"Are you…" Katherine raised her eyebrows slightly, "volunteering?"
They didn't have to seem so shocked, "Yeah, I guess. I'm sure I could come up with something."
"Uh, okay then. You can do the visual aid."
Jack nodded in satisfaction. He didn't know why, but he felt the need to impress them. They were judging him. People he had never talked to before had an opinion of him and he didn't like it. Didn't like the way they looked at him.
He could paint something. He may not have known a lot about writing, or researching, or freedom for that matter, but he knew how to draw and paint.
They continued talking, not even noticing that Jack was no longer listening.
~N~
Jack crawled through the window. He was exhausted. He had talked to more people in one day of school than he had in the last year and a half. He set his backpack beside his bed, then walked over to the door. He listened. There was no sound coming from the rest of the apartment.
Holding his breath, he pulled the door open and tiptoed out. He heard snoring. Making it to the living room, he saw that Snyder was passed out on the couch, multiple beer cans scattered around him.
The kitchen was close by. Maybe….
He opened the refrigerator. Nothing but beer. He tried the cabinet. There wasn't a single edible thing in the kitchen. Leaning his head against the closed pantry door, he let out a sigh. He just needed to forget about food and try to get sleep while he still could. He would have to deal with even more people tomorrow.
~TH~
There's part three!
Next chapter we get to meet Race, so I'm excited for that.
Let me know what you guys thought of this!
Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!
Until next time.
Gosh bless,
Jamie
