Thanks to everyone who read, and thanks to Scififan33 and rianess for reviewing.
Roddy checked that he'd put his book report in his backpack, strapped his violin into its case carefully so it wouldn't get jostled on the bus, and set his alarm, and then shut off the lights and crawled into bed. It wasn't...it was just like staying home alone when Dad was out of town. No big deal.
The self-directed pep talk did exactly nothing to stop tears from welling up in the darkness.
It was the same thing that had happened every night that he'd been here since Dad had died, not that there had been very many of those. Monroe had insisted on putting Roddy up in his guest room last weekend, Detective Grimm had been the one to take him home the nights before and after the funeral—that should have been nightmare fuel, but Nick's and Juliette's place was so incredibly bizarrely normal that Roddy hadn't even been able to imagine any headless bodies anywhere—and then he'd stayed at Monroe's again Thursday after practice. He was pretty sure that Monroe would have preferred to keep him this past weekend too, but Roddy had insisted that this was his home and he had to get used to living here again. And since even though Monroe could make Roddy do whatever he wanted he wouldn't, another reason that Roddy liked him much better than any of his extended family, he'd dropped Roddy off on Friday morning.
Admittedly with enough leftovers to feed a small army, and that was on top of the food still filling the fridge and cabinets, but Roddy figured that there was no point in expecting him to suddenly stop being himself, either.
Roddy was still hoping that he could keep the trailer until graduation. He didn't have any illusions about after that, his best hope then was a music scholarship to somewhere that came with a room-and-board stipend as well as tuition, but this had been his home for his whole life and he wasn't sure that he could handle losing anything else right now. Nor did he know of anyone who'd be happy to rent a room to a random eighteen year old boy in general, never mind one who spent an inordinate amount of time playing an instrument that tended to carry through walls. But as Nick had known, although Monroe and Rosalee hadn't, an eighteen year old could still receive social security survivors benefits while he was still in school, and if Roddy had done the math right he should receive enough to cover the bills and still put a little aside until he turned nineteen. Hopefully between that and DJ'ing and what Dad had saved there would be enough in the bank to stretch through the couple months between his nineteenth birthday and graduation. It wasn't Dad, but it was the best that he was going to get.
Eventually he drifted off, and the next thing he knew his alarm was beeping and the sky outside his window was starting to lighten. He showered and changed quickly, less because he was eager to get to school and more because private schools didn't have to provide transport so he had to make his way across the city on the public buses and the last thing he wanted to risk was being late the first day. He did have a driver's license, and now he had Dad's truck, but he hadn't driven further than across the lot since he was sixteen thanks to the price of insurance. Even if he wanted to pay for the insurance now, and he did not, he figured that it was safer for everyone if he didn't try. Besides, he was used to the long bus ride.
A lump rose in his throat as he locked the door behind him and opened his mouth to call out a goodbye, only to realize that no one was going to answer, and he tightened his hand on his violin case and forced it down. Whatever else happened, he could not afford to lose it at school. His family had been giving him a wide berth since the whole incident with Monroe and then Nick dropping by, which was just fine with him, but he didn't exactly have any any friends among his classmates either. In fact he'd kind of prefer that neither they nor any of his teachers learned about any changes in his personal life, although that was a hope that was pretty much bound to be dashed whenever he got into his first fight.
Hopefully he'd get a week or two of peace first.
He reached the stop only a few minutes before the bus, and when it arrived he found a seat against a window and pulled out his schedule to check it again. The day started with literature and composition, not exactly a great opener, but at least he'd be able to hand over his report and be done with it. And everything after that until lunch was decent: the music kind of composition, an independent study for math since he'd run out of official math courses last year, and then chamber music. It went downhill again after lunch, of course, with history—Asia and Eastern Europe, this year—and science and a third year of Latin because he'd apparently had a bout of temporary insanity while choosing electives, but at least the science was advanced physics which was way less annoying than the biology the counselor had tried to sign him up for. And he could think of worse ways to end the day than playing with the school's full orchestra.
And then...
He shifted to stare out the window. He wasn't actually sure what the 'and then' was. He'd always tried to beat Dad home before, and he didn't see any reason to go anywhere other than home today, but it wasn't like there was anyone except himself to make dinner for or that he'd want to talk about his day with. Monroe probably wouldn't object if Roddy showed up on his porch, but that wasn't... Roddy was beyond happy to take Monroe up on his offer to continue dueting after school on Thursdays, but he'd meant what he'd said Friday morning. He had to figure out how to get by on his own.
Speaking of which, he should probably call Sammy. He'd actually spun for the rave on Friday night, mostly because Sammy had sent him about five hundred texts reminding him about it and would probably have turned up at the trailer to drag him to the warehouse if he hadn't showed, but it hadn't been his best performance. He'd let Sammy make the announcements and played tracks he already had laid down, but he hadn't exactly managed to add any energy to anything. Hell, if the looks Sammy had been giving him were any indication he'd done more than anything to drag down the energy in the room. He hadn't been in any headspace to do anything else, though; certainly not to explain the situation. So now he needed to call and do that, and hell, if Sammy really wasn't planning on holding any more raves until October, maybe Roddy could convince him to loan him his turntable. He'd never been able to do that kind of thing from home before, but now there was no reason to hide it. Well, Nick might bitch if he found out, but whatever. New material would get Roddy forgiven faster than anything else.
Roddy switched buses at the transit station, and the next one was considerably more crowded, but he managed to slip between the other passengers to a seat before they were all taken. And forty-five minutes later he was getting off the bus half a mile from the school. He stayed well clear of the line of cars streaming towards the parking lot as he made his way in the direction of the main building—parents were one thing, but a fair number of students weren't any more competent in the driving department than Roddy was and never mind that they'd all gotten cars for their sixteenth birthdays—and then braced himself automatically as he climbed the staircase.
Despite his expectations none of the other students in the crowd around him paid him the least bit of attention, though. Not that they were paying him any particular care, either, but the jostling all seemed to be genuinely accidental with no one even hitting him hard enough to leave any bruises.
Once he was inside he skirted to the side of the hall automatically anyway, but somehow the disinterest continued. At the end of last year people had been giving him a wide berth, and it was possible that this was just an extension of that, but as he looked around he realized that a lot of the faces that he was accustomed to seeing—seeing and avoiding—were just not here. And it wasn't 'not here' like Sarah who'd been shipped off or the three assholes whose parents were no doubt still trying to weasel them out of their sentences. It was 'not here' like graduated and gone. He hadn't even thought about that.
Roddy had actually been accepted to Von Hamelin five years ago, at what should have been the start of his freshman year, but he'd failed half of their academic placement tests because it was somehow his fault that the worst middle school in the city hadn't given him an in-depth understanding of ancient Egypt or Greek epic poetry. He'd ended up in remedial classes for both English and history plus a science so basic that it had barely counted as an elective credit, and while he'd taken math, music, and his real elective classes with the other kids his age, it hadn't been until the next year that he'd been allowed to start on the rest of the typically-freshman classes that counted towards graduation. He was technically a fifth-year senior now, and while it wasn't like he had any more friends among these now-graduating-class classmates than he had among those he'd started with, none of these kids had ever been his primary antagonists. There were plenty of assholes among them, sure, but he might actually manage those couple weeks of peace. It was a weird idea.
The school was small enough that he already knew most of his teachers, and he kept his head down and cruised through the day. A couple kids who apparently hadn't realized that he wouldn't graduate last year didn't seem happy to see him sitting in the violin section when they were all filing in for orchestra, but he didn't bother paying them any attention. People not thrilled to see him were nothing new.
Unlike Daniel with the summer orchestra, Dr. Warren wasn't inclined to let anyone off easily and kept them sight reading through new pieces all the way to the end of the session, but Roddy had expected that and already had his things with him to leave immediately afterwards for the bus stop. He'd barely sat down on the bench when a familiar jeep pulled up beside him with a light honk, though, and he frowned. "Nick?"
"Come on," Detective Grimm said, waving him over.
"What the hell?" Roddy shouldered his backpack and grabbed his violin, climbing into the passenger seat when Nick reached over to push the door open. "What are you doing here? Did something happen?" He really hoped that nothing else had happened, but Nick's clothes didn't exactly give him a lot of hope. "Why are you wearing a suit?"
"Buckle up," Nick said. "Everything's fine, but I just spent the afternoon down at the courthouse testifying, and since I don't need to go back to the station today, I figured I'd see if I could catch you and grab an early dinner. Kind of surprised that I didn't miss you though, given how late it is."
"Full orchestra is Von Hamelin's version of a sport, it's always technically after school since there's only time to cram in seven official classes unless they kill all of the electives." It had a lot to do with why a part time job during the school year had never been an option for him even if Dad hadn't objected.
"Ah, that makes sense. And it explains why I've never heard of the Von Hamelin football team."
Roddy choked despite himself. "Yeah, I don't think that wouldn't end very well." He might be undersized even by art school standards, but while there was no reason that a bruiser couldn't also be a musician, he could only think of three students offhand who wouldn't abruptly become paste if they accidentally stepped onto a football field. And even they probably wouldn't last more than five minutes.
Nick chuckled and shook his head. "So how does pizza sound?"
"I—good, I guess, but you don't have to. I can take care of myself."
"I know. Still, it's the first day of the school year. You ought to do something to celebrate surviving." He nudged Roddy's shoulder lightly. "Besides, Juliette's out with her girlfriends. You can save me from dinner in front of the television."
Roddy hopped off the bus with a wave of thanks for the driver, shot the sky a suspicious look, and then hurried up the street to Monroe's. He'd say that he'd accept Monroe's offer of a ride home tonight given how the weather was looking, but he'd spent the last two Thursday nights in Monroe's guestroom after being fed way too many vegetables for dinner and suspected that the same thing would happen this week too. Not that Monroe ever forced him, but...well, one night a week wasn't a big deal.
The door opened almost as soon as he hit the bell, a good indication that Monroe didn't have any clock work in progress, and Monroe greeted him with a smile and a familiar, "Hey, kid."
"Hey." He frowned. "What...?" He indicated his own cheek, where Monroe's face had a corresponding bruise.
Monroe's jaw tightened. "There was an issue with a man at the spice shop a few days ago."
"Someone bothered Rosalee?" Roddy scowled. Rosalee was nice. A Fuchsbau, as it turned out, not a Blutbad, but regardless nobody ought to be causing her any problems. "You kicked his ass, right?"
"Nick and I between us."
"Good."
"Now, what happened to you?" Monroe gestured to Roddy's temple.
"Huh? Oh. One of my asshole classmates bounced me off a locker coming out of history the other day." One of the idiots who weren't good enough to bump him from his seat in the orchestra, as it happened, no surprise there. Just once Roddy would like to outweigh somebody. "It's not a big deal." Two, almost three, weeks in with only one bruise was pretty much unheard of.
"Mm." Monroe didn't look pleased as he herded Roddy towards the kitchen. "I assume that no teachers saw anything."
A snort. "They never do." Not unless—or until, usually, his temper was what it was—Roddy got mad enough to hit back, anyway.
Monroe shook his head and lifted a bowl of pretzels down from the top of the fridge, gesturing for Roddy to help himself. "Are your classes at least going well? You were complaining about a history paper last week."
And had gotten a twenty minute lecture about it from Monroe who was apparently as into history as he was clocks. Roddy wasn't inviting that again, thank you very much. "Pretty good. The new physics teacher is definitely better than Dr. Taylor was, especially now that we're getting into labs, and my first prob and stats test went pretty well." It still felt kind of weird not having a lecture to accompany his book work, but at least he seemed to be keeping up with the material just fine. "We're starting to put together performance pieces for my music composition class, though, and I sort of have one today if...?" He'd only ever written music for himself before, either for the violin or his marginally-competent piano playing since accompaniment had been a required elective his first year, but this year the focus was on ensemble pieces.
"Sure, it'd be fun to try something really new," Monroe said immediately. "But before I forget, are you okay with Rosalee joining us for dinner?"
"Yeah, of course." As previously noted, she was nice.
They spent a couple hours cheerfully lost in their music, including some helpful suggestions for Roddy for his composition class work, and then it was time for dinner, and Roddy didn't mind being put to work given the results. And if the evening ended with him curled up in a chair reading Japanese short fiction per stupid English class requirements while two nice-if-dorky adults with crushes on each other eyed each other from opposite ends of the couch and some old movie played, he was already aware that his life was weird.
