Chapter Text
Chapter one: the dead boy
When he woke up, the sun had already made its way up, past the house Keith always timed it with.
Keith had to get ready for school, he woke up late so he had to dump all his books into his bag whilst pinning safety pins to his jumper. He had to hold it up or some teacher would give him detention for having a baggy jumper.
He hated the stupid jumper, it was always falling apart and each time Keith took a look at it, there was always some old stain he had missed.
It was the dead boy's jumper though. The one that used to live in the same room Keith sleeped in. His foster parents had put him into the same school as him, and gave him the same uniform.
But William, the dead boy, had apparently been much taller and older than Keith. His trousers were too long, and his shoes were the worst; they always slipped off when he walked.
His phone buzzed, it was Lance, his friend, begging him for the physics homework. But it wasn't like he had done it either. They could both do it later at lunch or something. He chucked his phone back on the bed.
He could hear Tracy's screechy voice through the floorboards. She was singing some stupid song about a man and his pet horse. It was probably one of the ones that she composed. And it sounded horrible.
When he had first came to the house, Tracy had made him sit down for hours, reading and singing him songs that she wrote. Keith shivered at the memory.
Jordan was probably home too, avoiding him as usual. That was a good thing of course, Keith hated both of them, but he wished they'd actually parent, especially when they literally signed up for it.
He felt selfish for it, it was their house and it felt like he was taking advantage of them. No matter how much he tried to justify his hate, it always came back to iy being his fault.
After he got his uniform right, he went to the toilet to brush his teeth and wash his face. He tried sticking a comb in his messy mullet, but it wouldn't budge. He would have to ask Coran to sort it out later when he reached school.
Once he was done he rushed down the stairs, chucking his blazer and bag next to the door and then made his way to the kitchen. He could smell food wafting away from it.
He couldn't see Tracy around, and she wasn't singing anymore, maybe she'd gone back upstairs. He opened the door but his heart stopped when he saw Tracy's back.
"Ah, there you are," Tracy turned. "What are you doing here? I always keep your food outside, silly," she smiled. Keith smiled back, a hard plastic smile.
She leant on the doorway, blocking the kitchen off and gesturing to Keith to go to the dining room. There was milk and cornflakes set out for him. His small bowl covered in planets and rockets, like a child's toy.
Jordan was sat there too. Sipping at his tea, but when Keith walked over, followed by Tracy, his gaze went over Keith, and he smiled at Tracy.
"Good morning sunshine,"
Keith's stomach dropped.
He slipped into his chair. Well, not his chair, but the dead boy's chair- it was strange to Keith, that they tried to make him look and act exactly like William. But Tracy had made it strictly clear that he had to sit in that chair though.
"Um, good morning," Keith said, picking up the milk bottle. Jordan ignored the greeting but took the milk bottle out of Keith's hands.
"Let me pour that." Keith tensed as Jordan poured the milk. Keith watched as hardly anything came out. His throat burned and he swallowed down his annoyance.
"Thanks," Keith grumbled. At least he could get away with the cornflakes. He tried to be as quick as he could grabbing the cornflakes, but he forgot Tracy was standing behind him.
"I'll give you just the right amount." She smiled with her red stained lips. She looked like she belonged in some 1950s advert, her blonde hair pulled back into a bun and her floral apron.
Keith tried to make his brain go blank. Maybe he could pretend there was a lot more food in the bowl. He looked down at it and repeated the mantra that went through his head at least once a day. This is much better than before.
He stared down at the bowl, his stomach clawed at him. But his face flickered.
"Thank you, Tracy." He tried not to imagine himself punch her throat. His eyes flicked to Jordan glaring at his phone, he wished he could break the damn thing and stuff it up Jordan's bum hole.
"Of course dear." Then she settled down on her chair, and as was routine, watched him chew his food, trying to savour every bit. He felt very strained, it was either her watchful hawk eyes or miss the food.
"Um, I'm late. I'll just leave now." Tracy didn't say anything but looked disappointed, and Jordan looked relieved, yet he still stared at his phone.
"Okay, but don't forget to go to Mr Tank at lunch today, okay honey? I got a call from Yasmin, she just wants to check up on you." Tracy said. At times like this, she actually seemed like a nice person. When she called Keith honey, or sweet heart like she was his mother.
It was strange. Keith's opinions were easy to change, that was probably why he couldn't decide whether he absolutely hated them or if he was just very conflicted and dramatic.
"Yeah, don't worry." Now Keith just felt bad, Tracy cupped her hand around his head and gave him a kiss on his cheek. He didn't give her one back though.
Keith headed towards the door. The coldness creeping through the cracks. He shivered as he took out his key.
They finally allowed him his own key, so he didn't need one of them trailing his back each time he left the house.
As he unlocked the door, he could feel Jordan's suspicious eyes follow him and put the house.
But Keith didn't care about that anymore. He just felt awkward and intruding. He wanted to get out of the house as soon as he could.
He stumbled out, the cold attacking him. He wished he had taken his coat, but he already had a heavy bag.
The path to the bus stop wasn't long but the bus app said it'd be coming in a few minutes. But then again, the bus app was a liar.
"Keith!" Someone called out in the distance. He snapped his head, it was Pidge. He hoped she hadn't seen him come out of his house. He didn't want any of his friends to know where he lived.
That would be bad.