Chapter Text
Rusty sat in the hard plastic chair outside the guidance office, arms crossed, foot tapping, jaw clenched. He didn't want to be here. Rusty tugged at his spiked collar. He'd been told — no, ordered — to come talk to Cameron, the school guidance counselor, because of his "problems." Because he was “a bully” or something. Especially to that freak Jack. Whatever.
The door opened with a soft creak. Cameron, a friendly yet reserved human with a calming presence, peeked out. “Rusty? Come in.”
With a grunt, Rusty got up and stepped inside, slouching into the beanbag across from Cameron’s desk. Rusty's body sank into it. The first ten minutes were mostly silent. Cameron let Rusty sit there, arms still crossed, gaze avoiding eye contact. Eventually, Cameron said gently, “You don’t want to be here.” “No shit.” Rusty mumbled. “But you’re here anyway. That counts for something.” Rusty snorted. “I’m here so I don’t get suspended. Big difference.” More silence. “Tell me about something you do enjoy.” Rusty rolled his eyes. “Hockey.” Cameron perked up slightly. “You're on the team?” “Yeah. Left wing. I'm fast.” “That’s cool. Must take a lot of practice.” Rusty shrugged. “Keeps me distracted.” Cameron looks at Rusty confusedly for a second. “From what?”
Pause.
“Everything.”
Cameron waited.
“My mom used to be a professional figure skater,” Rusty said after a long stretch of silence. “That’s incredible. Did she teach you to skate?” Rusty nodded. “Yeah. She and dad were Russian. They met during some stupid skating event.” “You’re Russian?” “Yep. Mom moved here after she quit skating. Dad already had a place here. They... had me. By accident.” Cameron stayed silent, encouraging him to continue. "My mom loved me. My dad... not so much. Didn’t even want me.” Rusty stared at the floor. “When I was two, I remember going to my dad, asking to be picked up. He slapped me. Hard.” Cameron stayed quiet, showing a face of concern and of sadness. Rusty’s voice didn’t waver. “I cried at the time. Mom picked me up and held me. Tried to calm me down. That’s when she started to see who he really was.”
Rusty clenched his fists.
“Not that she did anything about it at first. I guess she hoped that maybe he would change. But when I was five... he got drunk. Really drunk. More so than usual. Next thing I knew the bastard hospitalized mom.” “Oh Rusty...” “Then it was just me and him. And school. And... Jack.”
Rusty paused.
“I picked on him. Hard. Thought he was weird. Freaky. Easy target.” “Why do you think you did that?” “Because I was angry. Because I didn’t want to feel small. Because I thought being a jerk made me strong.” He laughed bitterly. “I got detention and an F on the same day. Didn’t care. But Dad did. Beat me with a belt. First time.” Rusty stared ahead. “It got worse.” He sighed. “I don’t feel sad. Just tired mostly.”
There was a silence between them.
“Rusty,” Cameron said softly. “That wasn’t your fault. None of that. Not what happened to you. And it’s not too late to change.” Rusty looked away. “I don’t know how.” Cameron smiled softly at Rusty. “You’re here. That’s how it starts.”
When the session ended, Rusty grabbed his bag and stood up. “Thanks,” he said, voice nearly too low to hear.
Outside, Jack was standing awkwardly nearby. Rusty walked toward him. Jack flinched a bit. “Did you... was it okay? Talking to Cameron?” Rusty raised a hand. Jack winced—expecting a shove. But instead, Rusty gently patted his shoulder. “It was... good. Actually. I’m, uhh, sorry, Jack. For being an asshole or whatever.” Jack blinked, stunned. Then exhaled with relief. “Thanks... for apologizing,” Rusty looked away, blinking rapidly. “See you tomorrow?” Jack asked. Rusty thought for a second before saying “Sure, whatever.” Then Rusty walked off. Jack watching him leave.