TWENTY-ONE

Stick was the first to spot him around the corner: the blonde boy soon pulled back, tucking his hands into his pockets in an embarrassed gesture. It became clear then that his schoolmates were all waiting for him in the corridor. He could bet on the Poets' concern. He didn't know about the others. Why couldn't they mind their own bloody business? Jerks. Indulging in others' adversities because it was easier than doing some soul-searching about their miserable existences. Pathetic petty pricks. So that was how it would go. The walk of shame. The great Nuwanda, ridiculed and humiliated. Just to add insult to injury. Did they know about the paddle? Did he really care?

His stride was stiff and strenuous. He was about to place a hand against the wall for support, but thought better of it. He didn't want to add fuel to the fire. He only needed to make it to the anesthetic of his room. He had just tucked one hand into his pocket to convey the idea of stoicism when his nose betrayed him. He sniffed and stroked his inner cheek with his tongue. I'm strong.

Knox was the first to be seen. He was standing by Meeks and Pitts' door with them. The others were a bit farther. Luckily, all of their rooms were next to each other. It had been easier all over the years to stick together, to run together, to live and hope together. Always together. And he would keep them that way. He had, indeed.

The students parted to let him through, unable to look him dead in the eye. He kept his rigid pace with dignity, his back tense, his head held high because, just as Walt Whitman once said, you have to advance to the muzzles of guns with perfect nonchalance. He went on slowly. He had nothing to hide.

He got to the threshold of his room where Cameron was standing, blocking the entrance. The red-haired boy moved, having the decency to leave him alone. Neil was in front of him, his arms folded, in suspense. Worried about his state, worried about his future, worried about the consequences for them all. Charlie finally managed to reach his shelter.

"You kicked out?" Neil asked in concern.

"No" Charlie reassured him, his voice full of suppressed tears.

"So what happened?"

Charlie took a heavy breath and swallowed. Couldn't they understand he just wanted to lick his wounds and indefinitely disappear from their looks and judgment, from the school, from the world, from himself?

"I'm to turn everybody in, apologize to the school and all will be forgiven" he answered wearily, keeping his back turned. Eye contact was hard stuff at the moment. He entered his room as if the conversation was over.

"So… What you gonna do?" Neil insisted in a feeble voice. It was not only him at stake. It was the whole lot of them on a razor's edge. "Charlie?"

Neil, Todd and Cameron got closer. Worried. Fretful. Frightened.

"Damn it, Neil!" Charlie blurted, finally raising his stare, blinking his threatening tears away. He was slightly exasperated. But then he met his friend's sweet eyes. It was not his fault. It was not their fault. Honestly, he had asked for it. They were innocent and right there for him all the same. For an idiot who loved flirting with disaster. They were just scared about their future. It was the natural scheme of things. When he opened his mouth to answer, he squinted his eyes to silently communicate what he really meant.

"The name is Nuwanda."

Since Charlie forced a smile while closing the door, all Neil could do was smile back at the tag with his friend's name on it. A relieved smile. A proud smile. The smile of loyalty. The smile of friendship.

As the lock clicked, Charlie rested his forehead against the wood. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath just to relax. But that breath became two, and then three and then one thousand, deeper by the second, heavier and increasingly shuddering. He grimaced in struggle, hating himself. He bent in the same infamous position he'd had to assume just moments before. How ironic. Large teardrops fell mockingly from his eyelashes, blurring his vision, crashing on the wooden boards. As the first sob escaped from his throat, he bit his fist unmercifully, collapsing on his knees. Not a single sound came off him as he trembled. He tried to sit, but a shot of ferocious pain made him think better of it. So he lay face down, palms and cheek on the floor, shaking, his mind a hazy whirl, until his tears dried up, his breathing pattern got back to steadiness and his senses gave out, blessing him with a numb slumber.

October couldn't sleep. It had been some days since the article had been written, surely the paper was out. Where was Charlie? How was he? Did he get the inevitable punishment?

She tossed and turned in her sheets. What if she had to leave before seeing him one last time, when he needed her most? What if she had to go before telling him the truth about what had happened and why she was there? What if she had to disappear before confessing to him that she…

A light sound was suddenly heard. She frowned and perceived it once more and then again, like a pounding tick. It came from the window, so she sat up, pulled the curtains aside and detected a round and dark object hitting the glass. She flinched before taking a better look outside. A lone figure was standing down the street in the dark, lit by the only street lamp, throwing pebbles at her. She narrowed her eyes and then goggled, quickly opening the window.

Charlie's arm stopped in mid-air. She nodded once and raised a finger, asking for a minute, then pulled back into her room and closed the pane. He took a relieved breath, just realizing he had feared she was no longer there. The main door opened moments later, letting a white-clad silhouette out. She approached him with genuine apprehension carved in her features.

"Darlie…" she whispered, then spotted his puffy eyes and his overall beaten appearance. She brushed her fingertips on his cheeks, almost afraid to break him like crystal. Charlie closed his eyes, swallowed and leaned heavily against her chest, hiding in the crook of her neck, inhaling her soothing scent. They both dropped in a heap on the pavement, right in the middle of the street, her stroking his hair and holding him tight. She didn't know how much time had passed when he was able to utter words again.

"Can we go? Please? Just… Go?" he murmured.

She had no idea where to take him or what place he had in mind, or even if he meant it rhetorically, but nodded nonetheless.

"Wherever you want."

A/N: A big thank you to She who shall not be name for adding my story to her list of favorites ^^