Tom was sat in Starbucks with Jools pretending he liked the macchiato as they talked of their separate summer plans, she was jetting off to Florida in August with her stepdad, half brothers and mum and he was leaving next week for a working holiday in Naples with Jerry returning in September. He was planning long term, hopefully earning enough for a nice present. Considering his home life was a nightmare, the dark haired school leaver found being a couple easy and satisfying, way more than just sex. The next big social outing was the prom. Jools had been on the student teacher committee arranging it all. "I'll be getting ready at Alex's place. Borrowing his suit, one he's outgrown." He did not add the backstory of those particular clothes, not worn since getting trapped in a car as a result winning at poker. For all the comparisons with the big screen version of spying, Tom got why Alex spent Saturday mornings in therapy. Two years ago, his best friend fancied Aisha Morrison, went to parties and socialised; now Alex did not even talk unless forced and viewed everyone bar those aware of his spookiness as potential threats or gormless idiots. His phone's alert was ignored as he sipped his cooling beverage, wishing it was plain old PG Tips.
Jools almost ground her teeth at the intrusion into their date, as life had been so much simpler when the annoyance that was Alex Rider was absent, "So, what has Alex texted you about just now? I do know his alert. You can tell me if the joint date plan is a bust?" Probably the usual lie about being ill. Unlikely because Tom was never in contact with Rider, no visits, no calls, no texts when the loser was ill, yet when actually at school the pair were joined at the hip and texting constantly.
Tom had a good idea the message would be about "Darling Trevor", the MI6 approved shrink. Alex had been in a right state arriving back during the Easter holidays, yet he chose to talk about Ian for being an abusive and neglectful a-hole and how he hated Blunt; not the shit he survived. The dark haired youth rubbed the bullet wound scar on his arm and squashed down his desire to tell Jools everything about his best friend and the real reason for him needing therapy, but that was not his secret to tell and Alex was unlikely ever to open up to her about anything. The strain of editing the past was stressful, so he could not stop himself frowning. He looked at Jools and guessed that things in sixth form would either be a million time's worse or with some personal stuff in the open his former friend's might cut Alex some slack. In the hope of easing the isolation, Tom tested the waters. "You can keep a secret, right?"
The girl nodded and wondered what the fuss was about. What secrets could his loner freak best friend have?
The dark haired teen was actually relieved Alex had been sort of ok about sharing info, but dance proficiency was hardly breaking the Official Secrets Act and therefore surmised it was ok to fill in his girlfriend with the truth, not about operations, but more personal stuff about his friend and his home life. He expected empathy and understanding cause Jools was that type of woman. "Alex has been seeing a Harley Street shrink." It had taken a conversation with Jerry to point out that Alex was obviously attracted to guys and being in complete denial. The repression of his sexuality caused by his less than ideal childhood and the stress of Ian's death. "You know my parent's suck. Well, times that by a thousand and you get how much worse Ian, Alex's brown bread uncle, was. Controlling and manipulative to the nth degree. Including some really fucking twisted stuff. Brainwashing, so Alex was his image, a perfectly "normal", 100% boring type of guy. I told you Alex freaked out about me blabbing about dance lessons, but what I told you was only half the story. When Alex was seven, he was signed up for dance lessons by Ian, so he went twice a week for four years. Only when he told Ian he wanted to be a dancer when he grew up, the lessons were immediately stopped. Alex was heartbroken, but threw himself into football, instead; which was an approved of activity for boys." Tom looked the dregs in his empty cup. "The popular Alex at school was what his uncle wanted him to be. Ian popped his clogs and Alex lost the man who told him how to behave, what to like and who he was allowed to be attracted to. Now my bff is getting help and has decided that he's OK with being himself." Tom looked as his girlfriend took in all the details. "I doubt he'll want the date with Mel and I owe Jack a fiver. She said Alex was only sitting on the fence saying he was straight." Tom did not mention Alex's confession he was into bastards in a big way. Thank Fuck, Alex was into way bigger bastards than the bullies at school.
Jools pulled out her phone, firing off a text, and trying not to snigger "Oh god, Nutty and a fruitcake!"
"This is in confidence." Tom stated in a low threatening tone.
The girl's face, a mix of cruelty and humour, shattered the illusion of true love as Tom realised the romance was just an attempt to get dirt on Alex. "Was this all a laugh? Did Hale suggest you date me? You never actually liked me, did you?"
A short pause as she read her replies. "You are sweet Tom, but really! I'm going to uni and actually make something of my life, not be a loser like you and Rider." She collected her things. "I'd like to say it's been fun, but you probably failed every exam and actually think your football apprenticeship for your sad sack conference league side is something to crow about. It's been worth it for you finally spilling the beans about your loony friend."
A dejected Tom Harris walked the three streets over, to see Alex.
...
"Why are you apologising, Tom? You're the one who's been dumped. I am totally cool being out and proud. Anyone with any common sense would have put two and two together and seen I need a shit ton of professional help." Not that the teachers had ever given a shit. MI6 only cared after Crawley had a major breakdown and he was a seasoned field agent, therefore the kid had finally been considered a burn out too. Alex had anticipated Tom talking the inconsequential stuff to his now ex. The crap at school was a low level annoyance, he was a realist and understood he had stopped trying to be normal after Point Blanc. Tom understood, because he was a fellow survivor and still an optimist. His blabbing had one positive helping along Stage one of the Brookland going out with a bang plan. At least now Tom was not going to be caught in friendly fire.
Tea and sympathy was not cutting it as Tom was now silent as the grave. He reached out to hug his friend. "how about we go out with those nice fake IDs I made with the laminator as you sweet talked Miss Bedfordshire. and get a decent date for next week. I'll be your wingman and we can go find you a nice Covent school girl to take to Prom."
Watching Tom buy another round of drinks for the group of four sixth formers from Sacred Heart with the money Alex had lent him. The impression was more St Trinian's than good girls. It was good fun and Tom was back on top form. They were making friends outside of the tight knit cliques at Brookland.
Alex was reinventing himself in more than one way; the old labels of a troublemaker and serial truant were now rewritten as a young man struggling with his sexuality, one bullied mercilessly on his social media and who had been since the school trip to Venice. Not that he cared about the hazing and silent treatment, he more important things to worry about at the time. So, everyone in school was aware of his reality about five minutes after Jools updated her group chat with her hot gossip. The chain of followers there including Hale's right on parents and Jool's uncle who was a fundraiser for the Terrance Higgins Trust. On his phone, Alex updated his long dormant Facebook page with a new rainbow background as a selfie of him wearing the feather boa and tiara that Jack had put in the trash pile before she went home. Misinformation was more than blending inti the background, this new image cast a different light on the actions of Bray and the school governors.
The sixteen year old had been busy this afternoon and found out Mel's dad was chairman of the PTA and mates with Bray. The bastard was an vocal opponent of the wrong sort getting into sixth form and the minutes of the last meeting had named Alex personally as a bad influence on the other children. The minutes had not specifically given a reason that Alex Rider was not school material. Now, the disgruntled school leaver was going to taint the PTA and the headmaster as homophobic bigots, which would go down a treat with the media and the education committee at the council, once this smear campaign reached its zenith.