Chapter Text
It was September. A cool breeze rustled the trees and the undergrowth. Birds chirped contentedly, nestled in their spots within the same trees. The leaves were a pale green, prepared to turn auburn as fall set in. A picturesque scene.
The birds scattered as a tall redhead crashed through the bushes in the bright afternoon sun. He growled curses under his breath as he approached a rather minimalistic two-story home. Running up to the door, he punched in the code hastily and nearly fell inside. At the street that marked the entrance of his neighborhood, a white Honda van stuffed with kids and driven by a similarly fiery-haired woman pulled in.
Inside the house, the boy continued to scramble all the way to his room, just to realise that he had locked the door before he had left the house. He frantically tried to pick the lock, and succeeded, but lost precious moments of time. He crashed into his school clothes as fast as he could. The van pulled into the driveway.
He heard the car doors slam and ran downstairs. To eliminate suspicion, he prepared a bowl of cereal and ate it at the dining table with his bag slung over his shoulder. Only seconds passed before the door opened and the boy’s mother and siblings poured in. They seemed to occupy her attention enough that she did not pay much attention to the boy sat at the table.
“So, Jack, why didn’t you bring your siblings home today?”
Shit.
“I wasn’t feeling good, so I drove home early,” he lied, pretending to stifle a cough.
“Oh. That’s weird. Funny thing that the school called to tell me that you never came to school at all today,” she said, hand on her hips and most definitely pissed.
Jack smacked his lips and grimaced. That was the second time she had caught him in a lie that week. He happened to notice something interesting on his shoe at that exact moment, and he studied it intently.
“So, what were you doing? Smoking? Drinking? Having sex with girls? You might as well tell me at this point— you’re already in deep trouble. Oh, and please tell me that you haven’t been with Ralph today. He’s a good kid who doesn’t need you corrupting him.”
“Oh please. He may be my best friend, but he would never miss school to save his life. I was hanging with Roger,” he answered truthfully, as being seventeen meant that his mom could no longer force him to ‘get rid’ of friends.
She sighed with exasperation and sat down across from him.
“I love you, son, but I wish you’d stop this,” she said, her eyes pleading with him silently.
“Mom, you know being young is about having fun while you can,” he said grinning, “before you’re tied down with a bunch of kids. Besides, what’re you gonna do to me, anyway?” He could say this with confidence, because she practically never punished him.
“You underestimate me, son,” she said ominously, pulling her phone out of her pocket. She intently stared at it, typing and tapping on it. Jack nervously stared at her as she concentrated on the small screen. After a few moments, she looked up at him again, an unreadable expression on her face.
“What— what is it?” Jack asked nervously.
She turned her phone to him so that he could see the page displayed on it. It was quite bland, but it said, ‘Mrs. Madison’s Home for Ill and Misfit Children,’ and it confirmed that she had registered him to go there.
Before he could object, she slid in a few more devastating details. “It starts on Monday, and it says on the website that they’ll help you with your… behavioral issues. It’s about thirty miles north from here,” she told him, but he looked a mix of panicked and outraged.
“You’re sending me away?” He cried, glaring at her with icy blue eyes that looked as sharp as diamonds.
She looked unphased, and if she was trying to hide her emotions, Jack thought, she was doing a damn good job of it. “If you do well, you should only be there for a school year, and be back to us by summer,” she said in a monotone voice.
Jack stood and glared at her for a few moments, too angry to reply, then stormed off to his room. He slammed his door and tried to imagine life without his friends, much less with a bunch of mentally-ill weirdos. His head fell into his hands and he sat, thinking for a while.
* * *
Isolated beams of light flowed through thin curtains, dimly lightly a small, messy room. A boy wearing a hoodie with long, straight hair sat in solitude, scrolling on his cellphone. A knock sounded on his door, and he turned to look at the door.
“Come in,” he said.
An older, yet not very old, woman entered, and looked at him, before taking a seat next to the boy on his bed.
“I need to tell you something, but it would be better if I could see you. It’s so dark in here,” she commented. The boy’s green eyes followed her, seemingly apathetic.
“Are you coming?”
The boy shook his head, and the woman was clearly getting frustrated.
“Why do you need to see me? We can hear each other fine enough.”
“I want to see your reaction. You might not take this news all too well,” she said, glaring at his silhouette in the half-light. “So, I’ll just turn this light on,” she challenged, reaching over him to flick the switch.
White flooded into the room, illuminating the boy’s stormy green eyes and the light yellow hoodie he wore.
“What do you want to tell me?” asked mildly. He took a whiff of the air to test if there was a smell of alcohol on her breath. None.
“Well Simon,” she began, sitting back down on the bed, “you’ve probably been thinking about starting school, haven’t you?”
The boy did not react, and seemed to be holding back tears, though it was unclear.
“It turns out that there is this special facility, kind of like a school, for people with certain conditions, like your epilepsy. I thought it would be better to send you there rather than a regular school, because there they will be more careful not to… Set you off,” she said, memories of picking up an unconscious child from school, flooding her mind.
Simon was not totally sure whether to be happy or sad about this. But if it meant getting away from his mother, it was probably good, at least somewhat. He forced what looked like a genuine smile.
“I’ll be fine, Mom,” he said, trying not to smile too hard, and make it look unnatural.
“Either way, you’ll still be able to call me whenever you need while you’re there. So, if you need anything, just call me, alright? It starts on Monday, so we still have a few days together.”
Simon made a mental note not to call her. “Sure, Mom.”
She stood up, but did not leave his room yet. “I just wanted to let you know,” she said, her hand on the door. “Dinner will be ready soon.”
She left the room, and Simon turned the light back off. The darkness calmed him. Eagerly, and somewhat hopeful for change, he began to pack his stuff.
* * *
A high-pitched bell rang several times and a boy left his room. He wore nice shoes, a fancy cardigan, and his hair was nicely done; the blonde had recently gotten a haircut.
He went down the whole, across high end, carpets, and passed down the stair staircase to the dining room. Upon the table were plates laden with delicious foods. It looked like a feast, though, as far as the boy knew, nothing was going on that day.
“Master Ralph!” Politely greeted the butler.
“Hello, Mr. William,” Ralph said back. “Why the feast?” His dark blue eyes were clouded with confusion.
“Sit down, my boy,” he said grimly. His tone had changed, and thus made Ralph nervous.
Ralph sat at the far end of the table, all the way across the room from the butler, who sat at the other end of the long dining table. Occupied in his thoughts and unaware that he had made a mistake, the boy scratched his head and took a sip from a crystal wine glass. Thankfully, it’s contents were not alcohol.
“You must come closer if you expect to hear me, boy!” Said the butler across from him, who raised his voice so that Ralph could hear him.
“Oh, okay,” he replied, embarrassed that he had made such a foolish mistake. He hurried over to the other side of the table and sat perpendicular to Mr. William.
“So, what is it that you wanted to tell me?” Asked Ralph, slight anxiety ringing in his ears.
“Your father, who I’m sure you’re aware is in navy duty at this time,” Ralph nodded, and Mr. William continued, “he had told me to enroll you in a private facility. He has admitted that he may have to serve for far longer than he thought, and he does not wish to hire a nanny.”
“But— I’m old enough to look after myself, aren’t I? I’m seventeen years old!” He reasoned.
“That’s exactly what I tried to tell him, my boy, but he was worried that you might get into trouble, in the case that you stay by yourself for several months,” he replied, sympathizing with the team. “However, the home I have signed you up for is the same facility that your friend, master Merridew, will be attending.”
At least that, if he had to be babysat by a bunch of teachers. Jack would make things interesting. Ralph smiled slightly.
“Okay, Mr. William,” he said obediently. The elderly butler would be worried for him if he complained any more.
“I’m glad that you understand, master Ralph,” he said kindly.
Ralph, dismissing himself from the table politely, went up to his room and grabbed his phone. “U busy?” He texted Jack.
* * *
Sirens rang out loudly in the city as the sun finally dipped below the tree line, shrouding downtown in darkness. A boy in a leather jacket splashed in puddles as he furtively ran from alley to alley, looking for someone.
“Come here, Piggy, Piggy, Piggy,” he taunted. “Unless you’re scared.”
Clearly Piggy was, as he did not challenge the boy in leather. Becoming impatient, the boy lost his taunting tone and began to threaten the other.
“Get out here, little bitch. You can’t say shit like that and get away with it. At least, not with my crew,” the boy growled, still searching for Piggy.
Meanwhile, the heavier bit sat behind a dumpster, barely enduring the nastiness that flooded his eyes and nose. He hyperventilated, praying that he would not be found. He nervously cursed under his breath.
Apparently God had not favoured Piggy’s wish, as the black-haired boy found him. He loomed over Piggy, ready to strike him—
“Wait! Roger!” Piggy held his hand out, as though it would stop Roger from beating his ass up.
“What is it?” Roger grumbled, albeit begrudgingly, as he hardly was willing to hear out the other boy as he pleaded.
“I— I— I’ll do anything! Please don’t hurt me!” He squealed, living up to his cruel nickname.
“Like what?” Roger said, backing up slightly, raising an eyebrow with intrigue. He was curious what this nerd could possibly offer him.
Piggy looked shocked that his ploy had worked, and tried to pull a fast one on the other boy. Roger easily caught him by the collar. He nervously chuckled as Roger sneered hatefully at him.
“Now you’ll get it,” he growled, staring into Piggy’s watery eyes with malice in his own reddish colored eyes.
“Please! If you beat me, I— I’ll tell! I’ll tell everyone what you did! My auntie won’t be happy!” He cried, hoping that this last attempt would work.
“Oh, please,” Roger laughed in his face. “You won’t do that, because you know I’ll just beat you harder if you do. Besides, your bitch ass ‘auntie’ won’t do a damn thing!” He slapped Piggy across the face, leaving an ugly, glaring red mark that resembled a hand.
Roger continued to beat up the boy, and eventually let him run off. Though Roger remained in the alley, scrolling on his phone, sitting in the same spot Piggy had sat. He noticed a metallic smell, which was likely caused by the blood on his knuckles. He pulled up texts, unphased by the mess he had caused.
‘U up?’ He texted Jack.
‘Yep, always am’ was the response almost immediately.
‘What u up to?’
‘Just laying in bed. My mom is sending me to some psychiatric whatchamacallit. Hbu?’
‘Just beat up Piggy lol. I see where he gets his nickname.’ Roger laughed a little to himself.
‘Finally. That little bitch had it coming.’
‘BTW, what’s that place called? My mom mentioned smth like that too.’
‘Um… Mrs. Madison’s… whatever the fuck… I forgot. Smth like that.’
‘I think I’ll be going there too’
‘Mk. Sounds good. Gn.’
‘Gn.’ Roger stashed his phone in his pocket and left the alley. He hopped into his black Nissan and drove home.