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With how much knowledge he taught himself about first aid and handling bleeding, TJ should've reminded himself that the vast majority of boys didn't have that sort of knowledge on hand.

The six of them were hanging out at the park on Saturday, like many others, playing a couple of games to have a good time. Gus, being the clutz he was, had fallen into a bush, getting a pretty deep cut on his forearm, along with being covered in thorns. but compared to the cuts he gave himself, that was easy enough to take care of. Making Gus calm down, was harder, though. The guy never did well with blood.

It didn't take long to stop the bleeding, just a few minutes and couple of well placed pressure points, and the bleeding was slowed to a barely noticeable trickle. There wasn't much he could do about the pain, but that wasn't his priority. That cut needed to be cleaned above all else. But it wasn't like he carried a first aid kit where ever he went. He needed to get home so his parents could take him to get that thing stitched up.

"How'd you learn to do that?" One of them asked. He couldn't remember which one it was, but he did remember how he almost exposed his new 'habit' on accident.

"I took a first aid class." He said. That was enough to keep them from asking anymore, thankfully. Besides, it was good that at least one of them knew how to handle injuries.

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When he was younger, he hated how Becky used him as a guinea pig for trying out new makeup ideas and methods. What boy would like being forced by their teenage sister to sit and have eye junk on put on their eyes and lip junk put on their lips? But it wasn't all bad.

He learned that if he put on white eyeliner on her lower eyelid that it made your eyes look bigger, and therefore make him look cuter. And that was important! Because half the reason he was never taken to juvie was because he was short, chubby, freckled, funny looking, and cute. Adults ate that shit up.

He also learned that the right combination of foundation and concealer could cover up a black eye. That came in handy when he started picking fights for the thrill of having bruises and scrapes to poke and prod at. One too many black eyes and there would be CPS at their doorstep, and he didn't want to put his parents through the grief of that.

So he always kept both on hand, just in case.

ZZZ

It took longer than usual to move around normally after that particular night of getting voluntarily jumped. That one night when Spinelli just had to be taking out the trash as he was walking home. He forced himself to get up early to do some deep stretching to loosen his muscles and put on the makeup right to cover his black eye so he wouldn't raise any suspensions at school.

His bookbag felt twice as heavy, and he was easier to empty it at his locker when he finally arrived at school. As he opened his locker, he felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to see who it was. Vince. In usual letterman jacket.

"Hey, uh, you okay?" He asked. "You were pretty banged up on Saturday."

"I'm fine," TJ said, turning back to his locker. "Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem. Spinelli still thinks you got hit by a car," Vince tried to joke. This whole conversation was awkward, and they were only three sentences into it. "You look a lot better."

"Mmm."

"So what happened? It must've been pretty bad."

"It wasn't that bad," he mumbled. "I have to go to class."

He turned to start walking towards his first class, but feel his upper arm being grabbed. Not used to anyone at school touching him, TJ didn't expect it, and flinched as Vince's grip was right over a particularly deep cut he had to stitch up and was keeping an eye on for infection.

"Sorry, did I hurt you?" Vince let go as soon as he flinched. He watched TJ or his reaction. Vince remembered how he looked a couple night ago; there was no way that he recovered that fast with the injures he had. Either he and Spinelli overreacted or TJ was just that good at hiding his injures. As far as he could tell, TJ was set on not letting him get close enough to see.

"It's fine," TJ said flatly. He rubbed a hand over where his grip was before walking away. "I'm going to be late."

Vince let the conversation end as he left. It wasn't like they had first period together, or any classes. They barely passed each other in the hallway, and when they did, they didn't acknowledge each other with so much as eye contact or a nod. So he had no idea what Spinelli expected when she told him to ask TJ if he was okay. A 'fine' was more of a response than he expected, though.

But he was right. Classes were starting in a minute, and he needed to get to his.

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