Hmmmmm. FF hates me. It really, really hates me. I'm okay with that though. I'm not too terribly fond of it either.

My computer is conspiring against me. The whole freaking technological world is ganging up on me…

So, without anymore delays, I bring you…

Chapter Nine.

Monday, 6:45 AM

Kirsten and Sandy were startled to see Ryan enter the kitchen, hair damp, dressed and carrying his bookbag.

"Hey sweetie." Kirsten said uneasily. "You're up early…"

"School…" Ryan's voice was hoarse and scratchy.

Sandy and Kirsten exchanged nervous looks.

"The last few days have been pretty rough… Why don't you take some time…"

"Can't..." Ryan answered as he reached in the fridge for the milk. "Midterms are coming up."

"All the more reason to take a few days…" Sandy continued. "Get some rest…"

Kirsten put Ryan's antibiotics down in front of him and kissed his forehead, surreptitiously checking his fever. He felt abnormally cool to the touch.

"Look, I know what you're trying to do, but it's not going to get any easier if I wait… I need to go."

As Kirsten looked at Ryan's pale face marred by bruises and the gash she had applied steri-strips to where the stitches had ripped, a feeling of unease gnawed at her stomach.

"Ryan, I don't think…"

He looked at her, his eyes pleading.

"Kirsten… I can't stay here. Always thinking about… Thinking about what happened."

She knew it was wrong.

She shouldn't let him go.

Keep him home. Keep him safe.

But what was right?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The ride to school was quiet. The media circus outside the gates of the subdivision had thankfully left. Sandy periodically glanced at Ryan. He was staring out the window, his face unreadable. Even Seth was unnaturally subdued, lost in his thoughts.

What Sandy wouldn't give for some mindless chatter…

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kirsten finished putting on her earrings, grabbed her briefcase and keys to the Range Rover. Closing the door behind her, she reached in the mailbox and retrieved the newspaper, tucking it under her arm to read at the office.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandy pulled the BMW to a stop in the school parking lot.

"It's not too late to turn back… You and Seth… A day of PS2…"

Ryan shook his head.

"Thanks anyway." He reached for the door handle. "Thanks for understanding." He whispered as he left the car.

"I don't understand." Sandy thought to himself. "Tell me what's going on inside that head of yours…"

Seth leaned forward from the back seat.

"I'll go home…"

Sandy cut Seth off with a glare.

"No I won't because what could be better than listening to Ms Freemont drone on about the subjugation of women in "The Handmaid's Tale…"

"Keep an eye on Ryan… He's not as tough as he wants us to believe…"

Seth nodded and got out of the car, waving as his father drove off. He scanned the quad, looking for Ryan. He felt a bump from behind, a reminder from the athletic royalty of his lack of status at Harbour. He then became aware of the whispers, the stares.

It was going to be a long day.

Ryan quickly turned the knob of his lock, pulling on it after the last number. Folded copies of the Orange County Register pelted him as he opened his locker. His jaw clenched and the muscles in his neck stood out as he reached in, grabbed the books he needed, closed his locker and walked away, ignoring the laughter from the throng that had gathered.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

By the end of third period Seth was desperate to escape.

"Seth…"

Lindsay gave Seth a hug.

"I heard what happened. I tried calling all weekend. All I got was your voice mail. Is Ryan okay?

Seth did a half shrug head bobble as he led his "Aunt" to a quiet hallway.

"I thought you guys just finished physics…"

"Ryan wasn't in class…"

"Great… I hope he didn't throw down with the rest of the water polo team…."

Lindsay looked quizzically at Seth. He clarified his statement.

"Yesterday Ryan went to the beach… You know, get some quality brooding in. Nordland and some of his crew thought they'd get into it with him. Stupid jock thought six to one odds would work in his favour."

"Ryan?" She asked, unable to keep the worry from her voice.

"Added some new bruises, opened up the stitches in his head, but he definitely kicked some butt. Are you sure he wasn't in class? He can be very quiet… Stealth even…"

"Seth, he's my lab partner. I think I'd know if he was sitting beside me."

"Shit." Seth ran a hand through his hair.

"What's going on?" Lindsay's tone softened.

"I… I don't know. I mean I do know, but… This whole thing with Trey really messed him up. Ryan… Ryan nearly drowned going in after him. Dad pulled him out of the ocean. Now Trey's dead and Ryan won't talk to us."

"Hey." Lindsay said gently. "He's Ryan… He doesn't talk to anyone…"

"He talks to you."

"Yeah, but not about himself. I don't know anything about Chino or his other family."

Seth thought for a few seconds. "He's got World Lit this period. We'll meet up for lunch after that. Maybe you can talk him into dumping the rest of the day. You can join us at the big house for a little game fest. With the way this day's going, I think Ryan's going to need a friendly face.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan slammed the door of his locker, throwing the rest of the newspapers that littered the inside of it into the garbage. Dr. Kim had paged him to her office halfway through history. 25 minutes into the day.

He said nothing as she stuttered through apologies and platitudes, finally suggesting he take a week or so for "bereavement leave".

He didn't need any fucking bereavement leave.

He didn't need a fucking grief counselor.

He needed to be left alone.

To deal with this his way.

He had walked out while Dr. Kim was calling Sandy to come and pick him up. By the time she ran to the east wing, Ryan had left the building. She quickly got back to her office and called the Cohen's again, hoping to catch Sandy before he left the house.

Hanging up, she sighed, staring at the pile of messages from "concerned parents" regarding the death of "the boy's" brother. She was tempted to call each and every parent and ask them "which boy"? The school had over 300 "boys" and she had to send away the one that needed to be there the most.

She picked up the phone and took the first "post it" note, punching in the numbers.

Damage control.

Image and prestige untarnished.

That's why they paid her the big money.

Smoke and mirrors.

Delusions of grandeur.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan felt his chest tighten as he walked home. He swallowed the urge to cough. Sweat rolled down his back, causing his shirt to cling uncomfortably to his body. Maybe he should have waited for Sandy, but being with Sandy meant talking.

The Cohens were obsessed with words, but he knew, words didn't always mean anything.

Ryan rummaged through the dirty laundry pile for the cleanest thing he could find. Retrieving a thread bare towel, he clumsily folded the dirty spots to the inside and then grabbed an icepack from the freezer, carefully wrapping it in the scratchy terrycloth. He quietly slipped back into his bedroom, relieved that his foray had gone undetected.

He handed the bundle to Trey who gingerly held it to the side of his battered face. Ryan watched as his brother's eye swelled shut. They sat quietly on his bed, their silence speaking for them. Trey lowered his icepack and gently ran his hand up Ryan's left arm, stopping when he felt his little brother flinch. Tears filled the blue eyes but he refused to let them fall. He didn't cry anymore. Trey pretended not to notice. He put the icepack back up against his face.

"Tell the teachers that you wiped out on the way to school. They'll make sure you get your arm fixed…"

"What if they don't believe me?" The small voice asked.

"You were running and you fell. That's all… Happens all the time. Stick to the story and we get to stay together… 'Kay Ry?

Trey waited for an answer.

"Ry… Okay?"

The 8 year old nodded.

The older boy got up from the bed.

"Go to sleep now…"

Ryan lay back and Trey pulled the thin blanket up, tucking it around his shoulders.

"Love you like a brother, brother…"