Chapter Five

Walter wasn't sure what he'd expected when he came home, but it wasn't to be cornered by Drake's band members in his own garage, each boy wearing a dark expression. They looked dangerously similar to the delinquents they were often accused of being and for the first time since he met them, he found himself genuinely concerned for his safety.

"Boys? Late band practice?"

Trevor, the eldest of the three, and by far the largest, sneered at him, prowling forward like a beast nearing its prey.

"Drake has bruises, Walter." He rumbled, and Walter frowned deeply, concern welling in his chest for his eldest son.

Drake not be his biologically, but he loved him all the same. The question was, what did Drake and bruises have to do with him being cornered in his own- oh. Oh god, No.

They thought he'd given Drake those bruises.

Audrey had never spoken of her first husband, at least not in detail, but he did know that the man was currently serving a life-time bid in prison and that he was the reason for Drake's initial distrust in him. Relating those facts with the conclusion these three boys, Drake's best friend's, had jumped to about him at the first sight of bruises on the musician, it didn't paint a pretty picture and he knew he'd have to play this carefully if he wanted to escape this.

"Boys, I would never hurt Drake. I don't care what you think of me, but that is a fact."

Trevor stared at him for moment, keen eyes observing him carefully before he relaxed signaling for the other boys to do the same.

"Be glad that I believe you, Mr. P. I would've hated to cause Drake to lose another father. He seems to like you. C'mon, Donnie, Scott."

Walter stared after them, stunned and partially terrified at Trevor's words, not because he had wanted to hurt Drake, but because the words weren't a threat.

They were a promise.

Linda Hayfer would be the first to admit that she was a bit biased towards students in her class, particularly Drake Parker.

Drake Parker, the sweet, shy little boy she'd taught only ten years previous at Bellevue elementary. The little genius, who studied as hard as he could so that he could please the adults in his life. Who had dreamt of becoming a musician so that his music could save lives.

He'd once been her favorite.

Then he changed.

His father suddenly out of the picture, he began to act out, his grades dropping and staying at a constant d average provided he was at school. He flirted with everything that walked (including her daughter), and was absent for school far more often than he was present.

The sweet genius she'd taught so many years ago was gone, replaced by a delinquent driving himself into an early grade and she hated it, so she hated him.

Staring at the perfectly written essay in front of her…she couldn't find that hate anymore.

In fact, in the past two months, her (least) favorite student had been handing in work on par with his kindergarten self and higher, seemingly devoid of the spark that had fueled him. He was present in every class, and shied away from any and all touch, behavior she was intimately familiar with. God, she hoped she was wrong, but something about the words in his paper, the topic he'd chosen for his paper pointed her in that direction. Placing the paper back on her desk, she glanced at her students and vowed to keep him after class to get to the bottom of things.

All the while the introduction to the teen's paper wreaked havoc in her mind.

Coping, many think it is a way to forget what it is one has to cope with in the first place, but the human mind is a funny place. It rejects things it finds too shameful to be thought about, but the imprint remains and with it the need to cope. Too bad coping can be just as painful.

What was her student trying to cope with, and why, why did she keep seeing her own broken blue eyes behind his empty amber ones?

"Drake, please remain after class."

Drake glanced up from the book in front of him, steadily ignoring Josh's burning gaze as it bore into the back of his head. What had he done wrong?

Since…that night, he'd been the perfect student, unwilling to taint the world's view of him but adding delinquent to the black stain on his body. He'd already been ruined, but the least he could do was save others from the same fate.

Meeting Mrs. Hayfer's eyes for a fleeting moment he nodded, knowing that by the time he left her classroom, Josh would be gone and he would be forced to walk home. The younger boy seemed to have little patience for him as of late and it wouldn't be the first time the boy had done so.

Maybe he knew of Drake's shame and didn't want to be near him.

Drake shivered and wrapped an arm around his torso, forcing his gaze back to his book.

No more thinking. Just… no.

He read in silence, hardly noticing the bell as it rang and the retreat if his classmates as they followed. He only came to when a gentle hand landed on his shoulder.

His skin crawled and he jerked away, wild eyed.

"Don't touch me!"

Mrs. Hayfer stared at him, blue eyes slowly filling with tears and he looked away from her, tightening his grip around his torso as he tried to hold himself together.

"Please," He whispered. "Don't touch me."

She nodded and took a seat in the chair he'd just noticed she'd brought from her desk.

"Drake, despite all of our differences, I care immensely for all of my students. Please tell me…is someone hurting you?"

He shook his head, tensing. "N-No. No! I'm fine."

Her eyes held a knowing look in the and she placed his essay in front of him and stood.

"No you're not." She responded softy before she walked away leaving him to stared blankly at the essay, more specifically the bold red 'A+' staining the paper like blood.

No, he really wasn't.

A small listless smile curled the corner of his lips even as tears burned his throat.

He really, really wasn't.

TBC…