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Hunter Clarington was sitting in fourth period calculus, bored out of his mind, when it finally happened. Calculus wasn’t usually something he struggled with, but he’d been distracted recently. As captain of the Dalton Academy Warblers, he was under a lot of pressure, and the current setlist just didn’t seem up to scratch; he knew it needed improving, but that meant working the others twice as hard to perfect the choreography and, as fit as they all were, it was going to take more time than they had.
In between working through the exercises, mulling over possible choreography for regionals, and quietly asking opinions from Nick, the Warbler who sat beside him, he barely heard the knock at the door.
“Hunter Clarington?”
He looked up at the sound of Mr McCarthy’s voice, squinting a little as he spotted the dorky-looking student messenger standing beside him.
“Mr Galbraith would like to see you.”
Hunter’s stomach dropped at the mention of the headmaster’s name. This couldn’t be good. Quiet murmurs and whispers now filled the room, as the other students began to speculate. Hunter glanced down at his open workbook, trying to keep his cool.
“Should I take my stuff?” he asked, hopeful. It was only five minutes into the hour long lesson and he didn’t really feel like taking his bag and books with him if he’d only be gone for ten minutes.
The boy beside Mr McCarthy nodded and Hunter had the sinking feeling that he was in deep, deep, irreparable trouble.
Shit.
Part of him knew this was inevitable. What he’d been doing was wrong; he knew that. It was only a matter of who would turn on him and when.
He picked up his books and slid them into his bag, glancing up at Nick as he did so. Nick’s expression seemed to match his own. Wide fearful eyes that couldn’t quite mask the realisation that everything they’d worked on was about to come apart.
Hunter zipped up his bag and strode confidently out of the room, too protective of his reputation to swallow his pride for even a second. He followed the younger student down the hall, all the way to the headmaster’s office, in complete silence, his mind racing with a thousand different possibilities, doing his best to ignore the most likely scenario.
Even then, nothing could quite prepare him for the faces that greeted him when he stepped into the office.
“Mother? Father?”
He hadn’t seen his parents in months and, usually, he would’ve liked a little more warning before seeing them. Hunter felt like he’d stepped into some strange nightmare; his parents had come all the way from Colorado Springs for this meeting, whatever it may involve. That alone was enough to indicate that this was serious.
His parents were seated across from the headmaster’s desk, and turned to him with a level of disappointment Hunter had only seen glimpses of before.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
To his mother’s left was an empty chair, obviously set aside for him. In the chair beside that sat his deputy captain, Sebastian Smythe, and beside him , Sebastian’s parents, who Hunter had only seen in photos before.
“Sit the hell down,” Hunter’s father ordered him, without so much as a ‘hello’.
Hunter marched swiftly over to the empty chair and sat down, tucking his bag underneath him. He glanced at Sebastian, who’d turned as white as a sheet, staring straight ahead at the headmaster’s desk.
Mr Galbraith watched and waited for Hunter to sit down before he began speaking. When he did, he spoke slowly, as if choosing his words very carefully.
“Mr Clarington and Mr Smythe,” he greeted the two boys. “Thank you for joining us today.”
A frown crept onto Hunter’s face at Mr Galbraith’s phrasing. Thank you? Was there a choice? Could he have just stayed in calculus and continued with his day as normal, bypassing this whole meeting? Is there some other secret option when a headmaster calls a student to his office?
“Gentlemen, I’m going to cut straight to the point. Your parents and I have just concluded a very lengthy discussion, as it has come to my attention that certain accusations have been made against the Warblers show choir, and these accusations have been backed up by some very concerning evidence.”
There was a quiet gulp from Sebastian’s direction and Hunter felt the blood rush from his own head. Evidence? What evidence? What was there to hold against them?
“One student in particular has come forward with the information that you have not only encouraged, but enforced and mandated the use of performance-enhancing drugs leading up to your sectionals competition in November. This student has disclosed that you even cut members from the team if they did not consent to the use of steroid injections. He has shown me extensive evidence of their use in your team and I am inclined to believe what he has told me is true. So, if you would like to explain yourselves, the floor is yours.”
The room was silent and Hunter realised that, for the first time since he’d met the guy, Sebastian didn’t have a snarky comment or comeback at the ready. They were in deep shit.
Hunter scrambled for an explanation, trying to come up with something to counter all the evidence, entirely aware that he couldn’t tell the whole truth -- not with his parents in the room. Could he flat-out deny it all? Admit to some but not all of it? What was he supposed to say to all of that when every part of it was true?
“Anything at all to say?” the headmaster pressed. When neither boy replied, he continued. “You know, the police are already involved. With evidence like this, we’re looking at a court case. And, with Dalton Academy’s reputation, this will soon become a very public affair. Our school is known to have a zero tolerance bully policy and the use of drugs and alcohol is strictly forbidden.”
Hunter sensed where the lecture was going and felt cold with dread.
“I’m sorry, boys, but I can’t enforce this policy and let behaviour like this slide; it is simply inexcusable. I’m afraid to say that, unless you have anything monumental that may change my course of action, you will both have to be expelled.”
Hunter threw his head back against the chair and stared at the ceiling with a huff.
“But-” came Sebatian’s voice from beside him.
“Sebastian, keep your mouth shut,” his father urged. “You’re not obligated to say a word.”
“But-”
“Sebastian!”
Hunter rolled his eyes and sat forward, wondering if he’d regret this. “No,” he sighed. “Sebastian didn’t do anything. I was the one who made them all do it-”
“Hunter!” his mother elbowed him abruptly. “Enough.”
But Hunter pressed on. “Sebastian may be deputy, but he’s just as innocent as the rest of the Warblers. He only did what I told him to do. It wasn’t his idea.”
Sebastian was staring at Hunter with wide eyes, his knee bouncing nervously. Why he was so surprised, Hunter didn’t know; Sebastian may have agreed and gone along with it all, but he didn’t enforce it in the way Hunter had, and he certainly hadn’t come up with the idea, let alone given the injections. Did he just expect Hunter to let him take the same blame?
“Is this true, Sebastian?” Mr Galbraith asked.
Sebastian stared into his lap as he nodded. His parents visibly relaxed.
Hunter’s, however, were fuming.
“This is bullshit!” his father yelled suddenly. “Our son is going to take the blame for what an entire group of singing twits took part in!”
The headmaster shook his head slowly. “Mr Clarington, I plan to punish all of the Warblers for their actions.”
“But Hunter is the only one being expelled,” his mother stated.
Mr Galbraith sighed and clasped his hands on the desk in front of him. “Mrs Clarington, your son is here on a scholarship. His attendance at this school has depended entirely on his leadership of the Warblers. Not only has he failed to lead them honorably, but he has tarnished the prestigious reputation of our school in doing so. I have no choice but to expel him.”
“And what does Sebastian get? A slight reprimand? A warning?”
“Mother…” Hunter attested.
“No, Hunter. Why is it that you’re being expelled and he gets to stay? Is this a class thing? Is it because they have money?”
Hunter groaned and fell back into his chair, giving up on trying to argue back.
“Mrs Clarington, I assure you that money has nothing to do with this. If what your son says is correct, then Sebastian will be punished as severely as the other Warblers.”
Hunter noticed that Sebastian still hadn’t spoken up. It was rare for him to be so quiet and, in any other situation, Hunter was sure he would have celebrated it. Right now, however, all it did was make him wish this whole meeting would be over.
“I told you show choir was a mistake, Hunter,” his father berated. “It’s childish.”
“Can I go now?” Hunter asked the headmaster, ignoring the sting of his father’s words.
Mr Galbraith nodded. “You may all leave. Hunter, I expect you to pack your belongings and leave with your parents this afternoon. The school will be in touch.”
Hunter stood and left the room without another word.
*****
Fifteen minutes later, Hunter was kneeling on his dormitory floor. There was enough space in the middle of the room, with his bed lining one wall and Sebastian’s lining the opposite, for him, his open suitcase and five piles of neatly stacked clothes, ready to pack away. He was taking his time; really, it should have taken five minutes, but he wanted to savor every last second here.
He shouldn’t have done it; the whole thing was so fucking selfish. Of course, he couldn’t admit that to anyone. There was no excuse for what he’d done and what he’d forced others to do. It was desperation that had driven him.
He’d just packed the first pile into his suitcase when there was a quiet knock at the door. He turned to look and quickly turned back.
“I suppose you’ve come to gloat.”
Sebastian walked over to his bed and sat down. “You probably shouldn’t have forced us all to do drugs, you know.”
Hunter scoffed and sat back on his heels, somehow unable to bring himself to turn and face Sebastian. “Oh, really? What makes you think that?” he said sarcastically, staring at the wall ahead of him.
There was a creak as Sebastian stood up from his bed. The room was silent once more and Hunter thought for a moment that he’d succeeded in being sarcastic enough to make Sebastian leave. He reached out to pack the next pile.
Sebastian came into eyesight as he sat down on Hunter’s bed, just to his right. No such luck.
“Why did you do it?” he asked.
Hunter groaned. “Could you just leave me alone?”
“No, I couldn’t.”
If anyone on Earth was more stubborn than Hunter, it was Sebastian. It didn’t take long after they met for Hunter to realise that their arguments only went around in circles. Eventually he learned to give up and agree to disagree on most things that involved Sebastian.
“You’re so fucking annoying.”
“And you’re avoiding the question. Why did you do it?”
Hunter looked up at him, realising he didn’t really have much left to lose. He sat back on the floor, pulling his legs up to hug his knees, staring at the suitcase, looking anywhere but at Sebastian.
He sighed. “I wanted to win.”
Sebastian laughed. “No shit.”
“Shut up; I’m not finished. I had to make sure we won; this scholarship was riding on that.”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “That all sounds very desperate to me.”
It was, Hunter thought to himself. I was desperate.
He’d never admit it.
He got to his knees, choosing to ignore Sebastian and keep packing.
Sebastian reached out and pushed him back again. ‘Why so desperate?”
Hunter sighed, feeling himself getting more irritated as time went on. “You can go now, Smythe.”
“What made you so desperate to keep the scholarship? What made you force a whole show choir to take drugs, just so you could keep your place here? What are you hiding, Clarington?”
“Sebastian. That’s enough.” Hunter was gritting his teeth in an effort not to snap.
“Why was staying here so important to you?”
“Sebastian, shut the fuck up!” Hunter yelled suddenly, glaring up at him. “We had to win and we had to keep winning so that I didn’t look like some loser! The choreography had to be athletic so that it wasn’t just some stupid singing competition! And I like it here, okay!? I’m happier here! I didn’t want to go home! Now, is that enough for you or are you going to keep prying until I’m forced to throw you out that window?!”
Hunter swore he saw a flash of hurt cross Sebastian’s face but, if it was there, he did well to cover it quickly. Knowing he’d pushed Hunter too far, he moved the focus to the group. “The Warblers are gonna be pissed.”
“They’ll be relieved.” Hunter knelt forward and placed each pile of clothes into his bag. “No more ruthless leader to boss them around.”
“We’ll be disqualified.”
Hunter zipped up his bag and knelt beside it with his hands on his lap. “Yeah, well, show choir’s childish anyway. You’ll find something else to do.” He stood up, picking up his suitcase and heading to the door.
“Hunter?” Sebastian called after him.
Hunter turned.
Sebastian looked concerned. “You’ll keep in touch, right?”
Hunter didn’t meet his eyes. “I’ll see you at the trial.”