Chapter Text
December 2146, Buenos Aires
Father Hugo Alvarez had just finished his mass when the aide delivered the news that Principal Alberto Vasquez’s office had tried to reach Hugo regarding a serious incident involving Hugo’s charge, twelve-year-old Steven.
His aide had received few clarifying details, however, beyond the stark fact that Steven had brutally pummeled an older student, and sent the victim to the school doctor with a broken nose.
Hugo rushed into his office and shuffled his papers into a pile on the small desk, found the phone under some papers, and ordered a ludicrously expensive - but fast - hover cab. All the while contemplating how nothing of the info made any sense.
Throughout his years as a priest, he had witnessed both the depths of evil and the heights of kindness in humans. Thus, Hugo prided himself on being a fair judge of character.
And young Steven had a quiet integrity and thoughtful depth to him that belied his years. Besides, Emelia had raised her son well.
That said, the lively energy of any twelve-year-old naturally simmered beneath Steven’s surface. Like when the boy had practiced skimmies with his football in a corridor and accidently hit a precious statue. Sister Bea had gotten all huffy at not only Steven but Hugo as well - for almost two weeks afterwards. And the boy had found it best to stay in his room and play video games for a few days to let the storm pass.
Yet, an insatiable eagerness to learn drove the orphan headfirst into the world of knowledge. First at their parish library during his month-long stay at St. Frances, then at the Academy.
Consequently, the gravity of the accusations left Hugo just as concerned as he was puzzled.
While he awaited the cab Hugo contemplated the last months of development for Steven.
How Gloria and he had kept close tabs on his progress throughout the semester, and that the exams were nothing short of exceptional.
And only yesterday, Gloria had burst into his office, smiling from ear to ear as she clutched a cream-colored, opened envelope to her chest.
“Look! Steven’s first grades!”
Beaming and bristling with joy, the sister had pressed the heavy, embossed letter into his hands.
The elegant document bore the Academy’s raised insignia, and below Steven’s name and birthdate the subjects were listed in precise, bold lines.
And every row was marked with a stunning Magna cum laude, the Academy’s nearly unattainable top grade. Below them a written evaluation had been added.
“The student has shown discipline and impeccable manners, remaining punctual for every class and assignment. Additionally, he has demonstrated an analytical ability far exceeding his age. Therefore, the Academy offers the option to enroll in extracurricular classes next semester, as well.”
Steven’s academic achievements in his first semester had been nothing short of mindblowing, and Hugo’s chest had swelled with the rush of triumph until he thought his heart would explode. Deep satisfaction still awoke when he told the cab driver to take him to the Academy’s Administrative nexus.
As the cab doors hissed shut and they sped upward, he dialed an old friend, Valentín Rodrigo.
Steven needed all the help they could scramble and, if nothing else, more details of what had actually occurred, and Rodrigo had taught Psychology at the Academy since its start over twenty years ago.
"Yeah. I just heard the scuttlebutt," Rodrigo said after Hugo had told him the reason for calling.
Surprisingly enough, Rodrigo sounded amused.
“Seems your boy made short work of the Hernandez kid.” Rodrigo actually chuckled, Hugo realized incredulously.
“And personally, I don't mind actually. That cantankerous pibe has caused problems since the day he enrolled. Sadly, his parents remain wealthy and influential donors to the Academy—
A chilling insight dawned on Hugo.
“Wait, wait. The Hernandez family? The tycoons?”
“¡Dale! The very same.”
Hugo swallowed hard but a strangled sound escaped him anyway. That did not bode well for Steven since the Hernandezes were major donors to the Juvenile Academy.
“And their arrogant pibe exploits his status fully.”
Rodrigo’s voice dripped with lamenting irony.
“Ok. But my charge isn’t a troublemaker who picks fights,” Hugo explained. “Steven might have had a trace of the rascal in him when he was younger, but for the last two years, his head has been lost in the stars, studying day and night just to get into the Academy.”
“Look, Hugo. From what little I heard, he took down a teenager three years his senior today. Well raised or not, a streak of the streets clearly runs through him.”
“I haven’t noticed that,” Hugo retorted coolly. “Regardless, thrashing someone is never the answer.”
Rodrigo’s dismissive shrug echoed in the thick silence over the line.
“Some people only understand the language of power and I can assure you that the Hernandez-boy is one of them.”
“Be as it may, Valentín. I called you because the principal wasn’t very forthcoming with the details,” Hugo switched focus, “so if you know something or could look into it quickly, I owe you one.”
“I don’t know more than what I told you, except that he's the first one who has stood up to Hernandez. But I’ll get back to you as soon as I know more.”
They hung up and soon Hugo was dropped off by the square that led to the administrative nexus.
His walnut-colored cassock whipped around his legs as he hurried across the stifling plaza that echoed mostly empty this close to Christmas. The suffocating synthetic fabric did nothing to alleviate the heat — or his mounting concern.
Only a handful of students lingered with friends or families in the shade of the canopies. Long shadows from the three tall Academy buildings stretched across the plaza, offering a visual reprieve from the sun without actually cooling the sweltering summer heat.
Hugo forced his tense shoulders to drop as he approached the administration office and the polished steel doors to the Administration. He drew a deep, steeling breath before entering.
*
The damp fabric plastered itself to his spine like a cold second skin the moment the cool air-conditioned draft enveloped Hugo who paused to look around.
He hadn't set foot here since the Academy’s post-pandemic reopening five months prior. Back then, he and Sister Gloria had escorted a nervous but determined Steven to registration.
The space—a utilitarian hub shared by Student Affairs, the High school Administration and Resident Life—felt just as sterile and echoing as he remembered.
Hugo steered toward his charge who sat in the middle of a row of white polymer seats, and as far away as possible, it seemed, from a family of four in the other end of the lobby.
The prominent brows were furrowed in gloomy focus as he kept examining the knuckles in his lap. But his hazelnut hair was cut and neatly trimmed into a tapered side-part haircut.
Despite the gravity of the situation, warmth spread through Hugo as he approached Emelia's boy.
Steven had filled out during the months after his mother’s passing; the once-gaunt cheeks were now rosy and full.
And gone was the frayed hoodie he’d practically lived in at St. Francis. In its place, he now wore a crisp V-neck pullover with the Academy's gold insignia gleaming on the collar of his button-down shirt underneath.
Clearly, his first semester here had agreed with him. Yet this new, well-groomed exterior only made his current, anguished state more jarring.
Hugo sat down next to the boy and wrapped the cassock around his calves. He peered at Steven’s hands —the knuckles were a mess of scraped swelling and raw bruises.
The tight, hard lump grew in Hugo’s chest at the sight.
“Hey there, Steven,” he greeted the gloomy boy softly, “I came as soon as I heard. How are you holding up?”
A silence stretched out between them before the boy finally shrugged.
“Fine, I guess...”
The flat tone and slumping shoulders told a different story.
“Okay. Wanna tell me what happened today?”
Steven shifted uneasily on his seat, still avoiding eye contact, as he tucked his hands under his thighs with a sigh.
“I don't know what happened. I—I just lost it. Snapped.”
The bewildered headshake was pensive more than defensive - as if the boy had given his feral conduct quite the scrutiny already. But that he hadn’t found an answer.
“The boy I know doesn't beat people up. So, what happened?” Hugo prompted gently.
“He… Sebastián —He’s not in any of my classes — but we haven't exactly seen eye to eye,” Steven began then stopped abruptly, his jaw tightening.
Hugo knew the look; it was the stubborn silence of a boy who refused to be a snitch.
Hugo glanced toward the principal’s closed door when Steven broke the silence.
“He’s behaving like a freaking tyrant, that’s what he does! Roaming the corridors like some king with his entourage!”
The words broke through like a dam finally giving way to an immense pressure.
Hugo froze, eyes darting back to the slumping boy.
“Why haven't you told me this before?”
Steven finally met Hugo’s scouring and a rebellious gleam flickered in the lad’s sky-blue eyes.
“Because he’s not only targeting me, father. It’s my friend - and others - who have got the brunt of it. Whoever ends up in Sebastián’s crosshairs. I've gotten off easy compared to some.”
“Okay.” Hugo waited patiently.
“Thing is that I’ve made friends with a girl here. Bella.” Steven explained and glanced quickly over at Hugo as if to ensure he didn't get any strange ideas about being friends with a girl meant something else.
“She helped me settle in at the start, since this is her third semester, and we've been studying together ever since,” Steven added. Again, he threw Hugo a sharp look as if to reassure himself that Hugo wasn’t reading too much into it.
“It didn’t take long until I noticed how this guy loved to give her hell. Others too, but especially her.”
The boy’s eyes turned distant for a while, as if he relived some flashbacks.
Hugo waited patiently, hoping they wouldn’t be interrupted until Steven could finish his version of what had taken place.
“I was on my way to my locker after lunch when I saw how Sebastián and two friends had cornered Bella, calling her names and shit. She was terrified when Sebastián pushed her into the wall.”
Steven’s voice dropped into a haunted whisper.
“Like, hard. And the bastards just laughed. Laughed…I mean, who does that?!”
Steven’s hands balled into fists by his side and in his eyes a fire of winter erupted.
“I heard the sickening crack all the way to where I stood. That’s…that’s when I snapped.”
Steven shuddered and frowned in disbelief. His eyes stared unseeing in front of him as he recalled the scene, and his face had turned pale like a ghost’s.
“Bella has brittle bone disease, Father… Her bones are frail like glass - and I think they knew that.” Steven’s jaw tensed.
“It made me livid.”
Dear God, Hugo thought. For once at a loss of words. He closed his eyes for a moment and grabbed Steven’s shoulder.
“I’m so very sorry for Bella and you for going through this.”
“It had to stop,” was all Steven said.
They sat in silence for a while, trying to comprehend the cruelty - and what had caused Steven’s anger to turn feral enough to floor a much older teenager.
The boy fiddled nervously with the hem of the night blue V-neck jumper and shifted uneasily on the hard, plastic seat. He glanced around the lobby again, then peered at the principal’s secretary as if worried that the aide had overheard his transgression.
But the secretary sat seemingly preoccupied behind his low booth and didn’t pay them any attention.
“After that, I only remember glimpses. Sebastián lying down… Me hitting him…” Steven finally said, his voice faltering.
A flush spread across the orphan’s cheeks and he leaned forward and hid his face in his hands with a tormented grunt.
Something dawned on Hugo then. Like banks of fog slowly lifting and dissipating, leaving clear sight in its wake. He wasn’t a psychologist like Valentín but knew from years of experience how odd humans sometimes reacted to severe stress - or traumas. Could that have played a role here?
Hugo tucked away the thought for later.
“Yeez, I’ve screwed up big time, haven’t I?...” Steven breathed.
“Don’t judge yourself too hard, son. There are extenuating circumstances for sure. And even if I believe violence never is the solution, I can understand your react—”
A jarring signal from the secretary’s booth suddenly pierced the lobby and interrupted Hugo.
“The principal will see you now,” the young aide rose and told them neutrally. Nothing in the melodic voice or demeanor revealed if he had overheard their conversation.
But as Steven and Hugo passed by the booth, the aide’s dark eyes lingered cryptically on the boy.