Work Text:
The fluorescent lights hum above Jeff, casting a pale, sickly glow on the linoleum floor of Red Hill School. It’s a brisk November morning at Red Hill, and the air inside the hallway still holds a faint chill from outside. Lockers clang shut with metallic thuds, and the low roar of hundreds of kids talking echoes off the cinder block walls. Jeff clutches his worn backpack straps, his eyes scanning the crowd, a knot tightening in his stomach. Where is he? Will he try to get more money? I only have fifty cents today. He knows Bradley Chalkers is somewhere in this chaotic sea of students. I just want to get to class without seeing him.
Suddenly, a shadow falls over him. Jeff looks up, and there he is. Bradley. Oh no, here we go again. What does he want now? He stands a little too close, his faded blue jeans and wrinkled T-shirt looking like he slept in them. His dark eyes, usually narrowed into suspicious slits, are wide today, almost… hopeful? A faint, almost imperceptible smudge of dirt streaks his cheek. He doesn't have his usual defiant sneer.
Bradley shoves his hands into his pockets, jingling something. He stares at Jeff, his mind racing. This is it. I can do this. I just have to say it. He said he didn't have any friends. Maybe he'll say yes. But what if he laughs? What if he says no? He takes a deep breath.
"Hey, Jeff," Bradley mumbles, his voice surprisingly soft, barely audible over the din.
Jeff’s heart thumps. He braces himself, expecting another demand, another threat. "Uh, hi, Bradley."
Bradley pulls his right hand from his pocket, revealing a crumpled, green dollar bill. It looks familiar. Too familiar.
"Here," he says, pushing it towards Jeff. His gaze darts around, as if checking if anyone is watching. "I'll give you this… if you'll be my friend."
Jeff stares at the dollar, then at Bradley’s earnest, slightly nervous face. The offer is so unexpected, so completely opposite to yesterday. He hesitates, a million questions swirling in his head. Is this a trick? Does he really mean it? But there’s something in Bradley’s eyes, a flicker of vulnerability, that makes Jeff’s decision for him. He nods slowly.
"Okay. Yeah. I'll be your friend, Bradley."
A small, almost imperceptible smile touches Bradley’s lips. He presses the dollar into Jeff’s palm. The paper is soft, worn, and has a tiny tear near Washington’s portrait. Jeff’s fingers brush over the tear, and a jolt goes through him. It’s the exact same tear. The exact same dollar. The one he gave Bradley yesterday. He looks at Bradley, who just stands there, waiting. A strange mix of amusement and understanding washes over Jeff. He pockets the dollar.
"Thanks, Bradley."
Bradley just nods, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He turns and starts walking towards the classroom, not looking back, but not threatening, either. Jeff follows, a small, curious smile playing on his own lips. Maybe being Bradley’s friend won't be so bad after all.