Chapter Text
Archie Costello was leaving Trinity burning. He had left his mark, his scars, everywhere and he would be gone soon, off to some fancy college in Boston. Obie wondered if soon that school would go up in flames too, or if someone would finally get his revenge on Archie. You would think that Archie was invincible, untouchable. But Obie could remember someone very, very different. Young Archie. Weak Archie. It made hating him more difficult, but Obie rose to that challenge, easily.
BEFORE THE CHOCOLATE WAR
If there was one thing Obie was good at, it was noticing things. But Archie, somehow, those first few months, flew under his radar. Average, boring, unpopular. Face full of acne. Never drew any of the Brothers’ attention — spared the torture, spared the spotlight. Unlike Obie. That was the first thing he noticed about the teachers: they hated the good students -- the rule-followers, the straight-As -- just as much as the worst ones. And it was so easy for the Brothers to mess with them — because there’s the chink in the armor, the weakness,easily found. See how he bends and begs at a B, a C! Calculatedly, Obie had let his grades drop. The ridicule had been greatest at the low A’s, but now he was coasting at the mid-B’s. His parents were disappointed, sure, but he’d convinced them it was just part of the high school transition, that he would improve. And who knows, he might chance an A or two later in the year.
He’d also quickly learned not to leave any valuables in his locker. The first day there, his lock had been broken, his lunch stolen, his backpack destroyed. There was some group of kids — vandals, a gang, maybe, that had gone around messing up all the freshmen’s lockers. Obie guessed it was targeted, a hazing ritual. He was even kind of impressed.
It was lunchtime when it happened. Obie was sitting by the bleachers with Brian, listening to him complain about Brother Leon. “He’s a complete psychopath! A sadist!” Brian whisper-shouted, rapidly scanning the field as if Leon himself might be listening in. “I always get a kick out of it when he’s surprised,” Obie muttered. “You can see it in his eyes.” Brian snorted, brushing away the remnants of his lunch and standing. “I’ve got him next period, got to look for that when Emile spit-balls him again.”
Mere seconds after Brian left, a boy loped out of the shadows to fill his place by Obie. Running through his mental list of names, Obie came to a dubious stop at Archibald. Stupid name, if you asked him. A name for a king, not some high schooler.
“Hey. Obie, is it?” The kid leaned back on the cement, basking in the gray light.
“Yeah, what do you want?” Obie smirked.
Archibald turned lazily to look at him. “Tutoring.”
“Why?” Obie stared at him, confused. “Go ask David if you want someone actually smart. Or has he turned you down already?”
The kid grinned. “Aw, Obie. That’s cute and all, but you know you’re smarter than that Caroni guy. There’s grades and all that, then there’s common sense. Poor kid, he’ll be the Brothers’ puppet for the next four years.” Obie blinked. An invisible scale tipped, slowly, slowly. If he’d been any braver, he would’ve admitted it scared him, knowing here was someone else who was sharp, not in the usual way but sharp in the senses, Obie’s kind of sharp.
“But I won’t hide it — I’m not great with school stuff,” Archibald continued. “And I can’t flunk this year, so here’s a deal — I tutor you on common sense, you tutor me for classes.” He held out his hand.
It was a ridiculous offer, of course. Who ever heard of a school for common sense? But Archie, even as a freshman, seemed so sure and steady, confident in his words and movements. So Obie held out his hand and shook. What was the harm anyway?
“Excellent!” The boy bounded up and stretched. “Tomorrow after school,” he told Obie. “Bring your bike.” He was almost back inside before he turned and spoke, one last time. “Oh — and the name’s Archie.”