Here's the next chapter!

This one is from Race's POV. I used the name Tyler with SomedayonBroadway's permission.

TW: Mentions of child abuse

~TH~

Tyler Higgins knew pretty much everyone in the theatre department, so on Friday, when a new kid was standing awkwardly in the doorway, hands in pockets, he felt the need to investigate. As he neared the kid, he saw that his eyes were darting around the room, almost nervously.

"Uh, can I help you?"

The kid in front of him jumped. It took him a minute to calm down, then he shrugged. "I dunno. I was told I needed an elective and the office sent me here,"

"Oh, uh, okay. Wait here." Tyler left the kid alone. He'd never seen this kid before. He looked to be older, but still. He couldn't be sure, but the kid definitely looked anxious. And it didn't look like the normal 'new class, new people' kind.

In one of the back rooms of the school theatre, he found Ms Larkin, the drama teacher "Mamma Medda," He said, causing her to turn around.

"What's wrong, baby,"

"Nothing's wrong," at least he hoped not, "but there's a new kid who said the office moved him to this class."

"Well, let's go see him!" she smiled.

The kid hadn't left his place right inside the door.

"Hello sweetie," Ms Medda came forward, laying a hand on his shoulder. The kid flinched slightly, but didn't pull away. She removed her hand. "I'm Ms Medda, are you interested in acting?"

The kid shrugged, but looked almost panicked at the idea. "I, uh, don't really like the idea of bein' in front of a lot of people like that. I'm just here 'cause the office said I had to."

At least he was honest.

"That's perfectly fine, is there anything you do like to do? We need all kinds of help around here."

He shrugged again, almost like he was afraid to give answers. "I like to, uh, draw, 'n stuff."

"You could help with our backdrops! Do you paint?"

He nodded hesitantly.

"Wonderful! What's your name, Hunny?"

"Jack, uh, Jack Kelly."

"Well Jack, welcome to the theatre! Race, will you show Jack where the props and settings are? He can get a look at what we're working on and try out some paints to see what he's comfortable with."

Tyler smiled, "Sure, come on Jack,"

The older boy tentatively followed. "I'm Tyler, but most people call be Race."

"Okay."

The single word was followed by a long stint of silence. Eventually, they reached a small back room. It had all kinds of pains and art supplies, as well as a large backdrop hung across two walls.

"This is the room where we work on the props and stuff. Someone was working on a backdrop of a sky out west, but they dropped out. You think you can finish it?"

Jack shrugged. "Probably." He paused a second, then used his head to point towards it, "Can I try?"

Race nodded, "Go ahead."

Jack pushed up his sleeves a little, then picked up a paintbrush. As he started to paint, Race noticed the dark bruising around his right wrist. He watched the older boy paint. He was good, no doubt about that, but his eyes kept finding the bruising on his arm.

He was at a distance, but it definitely looked like a handprint, the kind of bruise you get when someone grabs onto you and won't let go. It fit. Everything fit. Oversized sweatshirt, wrinkled jeans, Race thought he could see a slight shift from concealer to skin near his hairline. And he was so jumpy and so insecure, almost afraid of doing or saying something wrong.

Just like I was.

Jack set the paintbrush down and looked at the large canvas. Race looked too. It was good. Even better than what had already been done.

"Wow, Jack. That's amazing." He said sincerely.

Jack shrugged, pulling his sleeves back down. Race took a calculated risk.

"What happened to your arm?"

Jack froze, his shoulders going up in a defensive manner, "What'dya mean?"

"Your wrist, it had a bruise on." Jack glared at him, Race held up his hand in a peace offering manner. "Sorry, just trying to make conversation."

"I-it's fine." The older boy finally answered, "I jus', I hit it off somethin'. Wasn't pay'n attention and smacked it right down, think it was a table." He let out a forced laugh, "I can be a klutz sometimes, always doin' stupid things that get me hurt. I seem to always be covered in some kind of bruise."

I bet you do.

"So long as it doesn't stop you from painting. I don't know anyone else who can paint like that."

Jack looked like he was about to argue, but the door opened and his eyes widened in fear, jerking his head towards the noise and taking in a short, gasping breath. Medda walked in, and Race saw the look she gave Jack. She knew too. Or at least suspected. She would be one to notice.

"Hey, baby, just came to check on you two." She laid a hand or Race's shoulder and he smiled up at her. She moved forward, inspecting the backdrop, "Wow, Jack, this is incredible."

He looked extremely uncomfortable at the praise. "It was nothin'."

"Well, it's certainly something to me! I'd say it's a stroke of luck that you came when you did!"

"Hey momma, Jack should take some paint home so he can practice. Y'know, so he doesn't have to do it all here."

Race saw Jack's eyes widen slightly, and he mouthed, 'Momma?' Not the worst reaction he'd gotten. It was true they looked nothing alike.

"That's a wonderful idea, Race! Jack, feel free to take home anything you need. Any painting you do is considered practice, just like when I have the actors running lines." She smiled, and Jack seemed to try to return it.

Race decided to answer his unasked question, "Medda is my foster mom."

Jack's eyes darted between the two of them. He seemed to almost be searching for something. "Cool." He finally said completely void of emotion. His eyes stayed on Race for a moment. Race felt himself being scanned, he was going to let him. No reason to call him out on it. He'd probably scared him enough for one day.

The bell rang, causing Jack to jump.

"You boys should probably get to your next class."

Jack nodded and walked out far too quickly.

Race watched as he left. Medda laid a hand on his shoulder. "We'll keep an eye on him, okay? But getting involved without proof could just make things worse."

He nodded.

Medda squeezed his shoulder, offering a comforting smile. "Go on, get to your next class."

~N~

"Don't be an idiot." Race rolled his eyes. "That is quite possibly the worst idea I've ever heard."

"Coming from you?" Albert laughed, "Listen, all I'm saying is that if we put Limburger cheese in the air vents, they'd have to shut down the school."

"Yes, and then we'd both get expelled and that would just go over so well."

Race wasn't sure if Albert was really considering it, or if his brain just stopped working after the last bell. Either way, getting expelled was not on his current agenda. He was quite happy with where he was in life at the moment and had no interest in ruining it all because of some stupid prank.

Albert apparently wasn't listening, "Okay, so here's what I'm thinking-."

Race stopped listening, his eyes finding that kid from this morning, Jack, at his locker. He rubbed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the locker. Then he sighed, opening it and a look of surprise crossed his face. He looked around as if to make sure no one was watching, then he pulled out a granola bar. He eyed it carefully before shoving it in his pocket. Next came a grocery bag, he pushed it into his backpack, once again looking around.

Jack turned and left, never even noticing Race, who felt a pang of... Something. He wasn't even completely sure what it was. It wasn't really pitty. Maybe understanding? He had a good idea from where the bag came from, he would have to find out what they knew. And he would have to keep an eye on this Jack Kelly.

~TH~

So that's the new chapter! It was fun to write Jack from someone else's perspective.

Be sure to let me know what you think!

The next chapter gets back to Jack's POV, but I will occasionally skip between characters.

If you have any thoughts, theories, or predictions, let me know!

Gosh bless,
Jamie