22

Sonic

"Ah shit, what did you do now?" Silver asked as we walked towards the library for study hall.

I followed his gaze to Mr. Connor's figure standing at the library door, chatting with the librarian. "Not a damn thing," I replied with a groan.

Mr. Connors turned his attention to us as we approached him. "Good afternoon, boys. How are we doing?" He asked with a small smile.

Silver grinned. "We're doing great!" He replied.

My counselor raised an eyebrow when I ignored him and tried to follow Silver into the library. "Where do you think you're going?" He asked.

Glancing at him, I said, "About my business."

"Your business is in my office - right now."

I sucked my teeth. "Come on, Mr. C; I have homework to do."

"Really? Because I spoke with all your teachers today, and they assured me that you're all caught up on your work."

"Why are you all up in my business?"

"Why have you been dodging my appointment slips?" He retorted.

I glared at him. "Because I'm fine," I hissed.

He nodded towards the opposite end of the hallway. "Let's go to my office. Mrs. Reilly already marked your excused absence for today."

Rolling my eyes, I stormed off towards the other side of the hallway.

Mr. Connors walked a few steps behind, letting me simmer in my frustration.

I took the long way to his office, damn near walking around the entire building. Truthfully, I was pissed I wouldn't be getting my nap today. I was out late last night shopping for a gift for Amy. Manic gave me another earful when I got home, and I'd told him to go fuck himself. We spent a good half hour arguing before he finally left me alone. I'd only caught a few hours of sleep before I had to wake up for school. Tonight, I had to work with Amy until closing. The short 50 minute period was the only rest I was going to get before the evening - and now I had to spend it talking to Mr. Connors about nonsense.

I plopped down in the chair in front of his desk, laying my cheek in the palm of my hand.

"So," Mr. Connors said, settling his brawny frame into his cushioned chair. "What's been going on lately?"

"Nothing," I lied.

His lips pressed together in a tight line. "Sonic, I thought we were past the point of lying. I've heard the rumors floating around in the hallways. Let's try again: What's been going on?"

"Nothing," I repeated.

"Having an issue with some members of a nefarious gang doesn't sound like 'nothing' to me."

"There isn't an issue anymore. It's over now."

"Okay, then we'll talk about the other rumor I've heard."

I raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

"About the person who's been stepping into your fights lately."

Clenching my jaw, I averted my gaze. Instead of Mr. Connor's concerned eyes, I focused on the Black Panther Funk-O-Pop on his desk.

"It's alright, Sonic. This is a safe place; you can talk to me about whatever's going on."

"There isn't much for me to say," I said with a shrug. "Apparently, my father's lived across town for the past five years, and neither my mother nor my brother thought to tell me."

"How do you feel about that?"

"Which part? The fact that he was only down the street and he didn't visit? Or the fact that my mother and my brother are fucking liars?"

"You're angry," Mr. Connors commented.

"Of course, I'm angry," I snapped. "Growing up, he was the only person who tried to understand me. He taught me how to fight, and he took me to MMA events, and he helped me with my homework, and he checked underneath the bed when I had nightmares. My father was far from being father of the year, but he was the only one that I had. And they just took that away from me. They didn't even ask what I wanted."

"And if they'd asked, what would you have said? Would you have moved in with him?"

"Hell no," I admitted. "But, I would've visited. I would've tried to maintain the bond I thought we had. Instead, I was forced to bury it. I spent a long time mourning my loss, destroying everything I could get my hands on in the process, and for what? For him to waltz back in and act like nothing happened? For my mother and Manic to pretend they didn't lie to me and tell me he was gone for good? For me to realize that he didn't actually give a fuck about me at all?" I paused, feeling the familiar cracks in my throat. Biting the inside of my cheek, I blinked away the angry tears behind my eyes. "It's just not fair."

"Why do you think your father doesn't care about you," my counselor asked softly.

"Because he's a goddamn psychopath; he doesn't give a fuck about anyone."

"Not even your mother?"

"There's a reason there's a five year gap between Manic and I." I shook my head. "He may have cared about her once, but he definitely didn't show it by the time I was able to remember things."

He frowned. "Did he show that he cared about you?"

"I tried to convince myself that he did, but at the end of the day, I'm not an idiot. He wanted a clone of himself, and he used me to make one." I scoffed. "If my father really gave a damn about me, then do you think he'd be encouraging me to join the Bloods right now?"

"Wait, what?" Mr. Connor's eyes went wide with shock. "You're not going to that, though - are you?"

I stared at him for a moment, struggling to keep my brows from coming together. "Are you really asking me that question?"

He sighed. "Sonic, as your counselor, it's my duty to -"

"To what? To drag me in here and spew bullshit about how much you care about me and force me to talk about shit that I've told you ten million times I don't want to discuss and then turn around and ask me dumbass questions like that?" I rose from my seat. "You're just like everyone else - thinking I'm not going to be anything else but a prisoner or a corpse!"

"Sonic, I don't think that about you," he said, rising as well. "Do you really think I'd still be here if I did?"

"If it meant getting a paycheck every two weeks, then yeah."

He leaned back as if I'd punched him. His eyes went wide with surprise, and the frown on his lips deepened. "Sonic, after four years, you should know that you mean more to me than a paycheck. I sincerely care about you."

"Why?" I asked. "Why do you care so fucking much?"

"Because when I look at you, I see myself."

This time, I let my brows come together. "What?"

"The first time we met, on the first day of your freshman year, after you got into that fight and security dragged you in here - and you proceeded to curse me out in English and Spanish." A sad smile tugged at his lips. "Watching you, I saw my teenage self. I was just like you: angry at the world and determined to destroy it with my bare hands. I'd lost my mother to addiction, and my father didn't give two shits about me. But, I didn't have someone who gave a damn enough about me to set me on the right track. I dropped out of high school and ran with one of the local street gangs for a long time. Then, I met my wife, and she…she was the one who saw more potential in me than I ever saw in myself. She got me out of the gang life, and she helped me with my GED and my college degrees. She made me realize that I wanted to be the person I never had. Then you raise hell in my office on my first day on the job, and I thought I could be that person for you." He walked around his desk and put his hand on my shoulder. "I know it's hard for you to trust that someone has good intentions after all you've been through, but I need you to believe me when I say that I only want the best for you. And I need you to trust me when I say that I am not going to abandon you - ever. Like I said, after graduation, I will track you down and check on you if I have to. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," I murmured.

"Good," he said, giving my shoulder a soft squeeze. "Now, do you want to keep talking or do you want to work on your homework?"

"Homework," I answered quickly.

He nodded, removing his hand. "Alright, then I'll write you a pass for the library."

"No," I said. "I want to stay here…if that's okay."

"That's perfectly fine!" Mr. Connors said, his smile changing tones. "Maybe I can help with some of the work."

I raised an eyebrow. "Do you know anything about Hamlet?"

He grimaced. "Shakespeare? Absolutely not! But maybe you can tell me about it." He sat back down behind his desk and motioned to the chair across from him.

Knocking down one of my walls, I sat down across from him and began explaining the story of a young man's descent into utter madness.