JULY 24TH, 2017 - MONDAY
CASEY’S POV
Casey was late. It was nothing new, but the young boy wanted to make a good impression for his first day of eighth grade, and he doubted being late would do that. It was his last year of middle school, and by God, it would be a good year even if it killed him.
While skating past the bridge of graffiti, Casey’s sapphire eyes took in the newest art that someone had put up over the weekend, a welcome back for all students. He wasn’t ready to return as he wasn’t the same kid from last year. The summer had been a time of self-discovery, and one thing that came from it was Casey’s hunt for a new, masculine name. So far, nothing had stuck, but he was hopeful that he would find something soon.
Casey skidded to a stop at the crosswalk and grabbed his board by the truck as he jogged up the steep hill toward Ashbrooke Middle. He adjusted the straps of his backpack as he yanked one of the glass doors open and blended seamlessly with the rest of the eighth graders as they headed for the gym presumably. Casey tried to subtly tug at the front of his dark grey long-sleeve, wondering if his newly acquired binder was visible and if his chest was flat enough.
That was something he worried about most. As the only trans kid in the entire school, Casey basically painted a target on his back that said, “just fuck me up, fam.” It had been a grueling year, but the realization that Casey felt more comfortable with male pronouns and short hair wasn’t a slow build-up. In reality, the brunet had a dream where he was a boy, and when he woke up, Casey couldn’t deny that he had never felt so comfortable in his skin, leading to over two months of wondering and wishing before he finally gave in.
Thus, a three month period of transition began. First, the teen researched because Casey Boyd did not do things by halves. He Googled terms and made notes and finally approached Adam, his best and only friend. Adam Tolliver, an annoyingly irritating genius, had simply listened to Casey stutter through a five-minute PowerPoint, nodded, and went back to reading his Pre-Calc textbook. Casey was shocked that Adam accepted him so readily but then realized that they were best friends for a reason, so he was no longer alone in his journey.
Adam had bought the binder as Casey had thought better of telling his parents. He had struggled to get it on, which his best friend found endlessly amusing, but once Casey got situated, it was like finally being able to breathe despite the compression of his chest. He wasn’t cliche enough to cry or anything, but he finally understood what had been missing.
Adam’s moms, Melissa and Sue, had taken him to get his first haircut too. Watching the hairdresser snip away at yet another hurdle in his path had been like a weight off his shoulders once he ran a hand across his shaved head. Casey absently scraped his nails through the thin layer of hair as they entered the gymnasium and quickly found Adam’s platinum-dyed head in the crowd. He nudged past other students he had known since kindergarten that he never actually spoke to and plopped down beside the younger boy.
“You look nice,” Casey commented, resting his board across his knees as he took in Adam’s appearance. The blond wore his typical dark attire, all name brands that made others envious, but what surprised him was the shiny stud on the left side of Adam’s nose.
“Birthday present. You look the same.” The brunet rolled his eyes and opened his mouth a sharp retort on the tip of his tongue, but fell silent when a woman’s voice called for their attention. She stood tall at the bottom of the bleachers, barely taller than the other five teachers, but Casey assumed the confidence added a few figurative inches.
“Welcome back students,” she greeted, “I am Mrs. Hale, the new English teacher this semester. To my left is Mr. Ford, Mr. Carter, and Mrs. Trent. At my right, Ms. Anderson and Mr. Hale.
We hope each of you had a good summer and are ready for a good year before you’re off to high school. Today you will be receiving your materials and acclimating to a new setting, so once Mrs. Anderson calls your name, please come down. Whatever class you get will be your homeroom and first-period class.” The intro was all said with a dazzling smile. Casey and Adam shared a look, neither believing that Mrs. Hale was that perky this early in the morning, but kept their comments to themselves. An odd feeling had started to settle in his stomach the longer Casey stared at the woman, a sort of pressure behind his eyes, so he looked away.
While Mrs. Trent calls out the names of her first period, Casey took a minute to glance around at the other students. The majority of these people he had known since kindergarten, not that any of them would say the same, but it seemed like they had begun to change. Some were taller. Some were still nerds. It was the same thing, year after year, but the familiarity was comforting to Casey. At least some things never change, he thought to himself, thinking back to his parents’ absence. A gentle elbow to his ribs drew Casey from his head, and he arched a brow at Adam, who only nodded to the front where Mr. Hale stood at the bottom of the bleachers, all broad shoulders and the same happy smile as Mrs. Hale. Hm, maybe siblings or a couple.
When the older man pulled a paper from his back pocket and called Casey’s name, he bumped Adam’s shoulder and made his way back down the bleachers, his bag bouncing against his back as he adjusted his grip on his skateboard. The young boy stood awkwardly near Mr. Hale as more names were called and resisted the urge to bang his hand against the rail when Adam remained seated. Casey wasn’t surprised.
Adam was practically a genius, certainly smarter than any of their peers, but chose to go through each grade even though he could’ve been a Junior with his older brother, Matthew. Casey had asked him about it a few years prior when Adam had gotten his first offer to skip grades, and all he had said was, “Friends don’t leave each other behind.” Which, if anyone asked, did not make Casey tear up like a bitch. Still, only sharing one class with his best friend sucked, and he found himself wishing he cared more about academics if it meant the boy had someone to talk with. Sadly, Casey did not care, so he was stuck in the average classes.
With the last of the names called, Casey met Adam’s eyes one last time and then followed his classmates out of the gym. He could hear Mr. Hale chatting with a few of the kids up front as he trailed behind and winced at the sharp pain that settled right behind his eyes. Casey rubbed at his forehead in an attempt at easing the ache quicker but knew it would cease on its own time.
The pains had begun near the end of second grade after an incident, and it seemingly hit at random moments. It would last for a few seconds, rarely longer than that, but it was enough to annoy Casey. At first, he thought it was because of his glasses, so he began wearing them again, but then the pain kept occurring, so the boy simply learned to live with it. Not that it makes the pain any more bearable, he mused internally.
By the time they reached the eighth-grade hall and Mr. Hale’s classroom, the ache had subsided, and Casey breathed a sigh of relief. He chose a seat at the back of the class, furthest from the teacher’s desk and right next to a window overlooking Ashbrooke Pool.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you guys, and I hope you’re ready for a good year,” Mr. Hale stated loudly from the front of the room, his voice reaching the back with ease, “as my sister said, I am Mr. Hale, and I teach math. I’m going to assume that this isn’t any of your guys’ favorite subject, right?” Casey snorted under his breath as he glanced out the window and froze when he turned back to find the older man watching him curiously, but the boy knew he couldn’t have heard him. He looked away from Mr. Hale and his oddly bright blue eyes when the sharp pain returned with a vengeance and massaged his temple with a frown. What the hell is going on? It usually doesn’t come back that quick.
Casey tuned out Mr. Hale’s introduction until a sheet of paper fell in front of him. His eyes glanced over the words with interest until he realized it was just a list of expectations he had no plans to meet. Yeah, like I’m gonna do my homework and “make sure it’s to the best of my abilities,” no thanks. Turning the paper over, Casey pulled a pen from his back pocket and began to draw. Every few seconds, he would look back at Mr. Hale as he gestured to the rules written on the smartboard until he had a solid mental image.
It was easy for Casey to let his mind wander as he drew, the rhythmic scratch of his pen across the paper lulling him into his head. For him, it was often too easy to get lost in his thoughts, and today was no different. Casey thought about Adam, thought about his last year of middle school, but mostly thought about his secrets. For a young boy of only fourteen, Casey Boyd sure did have a lot of secrets.
Sure, some were less important than others, but one, in particular, was something he didn’t dare tell another person. Not that he had anyone to tell besides Adam. Casey’s parents regularly traveled, uncaring that they left their young son alone for months. Before that, he at least had his grandfather. Until-
Casey clenched his left hand instinctively. His other still loosely gripped the pen, and he felt the familiar burning in his fingertips. He stopped drawing for a moment and instead focused on Mr. Hale’s deep voice, using it to keep himself steady, and it worked.
After a few seconds of steady breathing, Casey resumed drawing, but his heart wasn’t in it as before. By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of the first period, it seemed like the young boy had been there forever. Casey shoved the paper into his bag between two folders and made his way out of the classroom, all the while avoiding Mr. Hale’s eyes in fear of the pain returning.
Casey slipped into the crowded hallway and moved to the door on his right, Mr. Carter’s science class. Inside was darker than Mr. Hale’s had been and had tables instead of individual seats to the boy’s dismay. Tables in place of desks typically meant partners, and since Adam did not share this period, that said that Casey would most likely be stuck with someone he hardly knew. Yippee.
As usual, Casey took his place in the back and waited with bated breath to see who would sit beside him. Thankfully, the chair remained empty after Mr. Carter shut the door. While he went through the same spiel as Mr. Hale, Casey used it to study his classmates. Most of them he had gone to school with since kindergarten, including one Wesley Anderson. Wes fucking Anderson, great.
Like all cliche school stories, Casey had an enemy, Wesley Grant Anderson, resident football star and golden boy. For some reason, unbeknownst to almost everyone, Wes hated him with a passion and did everything to make it known. Even before transitioning, Wes wouldn’t hesitate to shoulder-check Casey into walls or elbow him in passing, so now that he identified as a male, he only expected worse. Least Wes didn’t discriminate against genders. Got that goin’ for him. The boy chuckled at his thought as he continued to look around, only to settle on an unfamiliar face.
He was clearly handsome, Casey wasn’t afraid to admit that. From how he was angled, Casey could only see that he had dark hair and tanned skin. The new kid was also obviously fit from the way his t-shirt stretched over his shoulders and biceps. He would quickly become a heartbreaker if he wanted to. If he were a character in one of Casey’s books, he would’ve described him as mysteriously alluring. Casey was curious. Ashbrooke was a small place; everyone knew everyone, so a new face was bound to make ripples in the pond.
With a soft hum, the young boy sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair almost nervously, but he had no idea what he would be nervous about. The day’s just begun, it’s not like anything has happened yet to make me anxious, Casey thought to himself, but who knows, maybe it’s like a warning of some sort.
“Miss Boyd?”
It took a minute for Casey to realize that he was being spoken to and winced as he replied, “Yes sir?”
“Any interesting facts you would like to contribute?”
“Uh, Harvard has a higher acceptance rate than Walmart?” It came out more as a question than he intended, and he frowned as Mr. Carter began to chuckle.
“I meant about yourself, but I’ll accept that answer.” Casey felt his cheeks heat up as the teacher thankfully moved onto someone else and ducked his head in embarrassment.
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Great first impressions, dude, just fuckin’ great.
~_~.~_~
The fourth-period bell rang, thank god for small mercies, and Casey was first out of Mr. Ford’s classroom. Three classes down, one to go. He bumped into Adam between the classrooms and nodded his greeting.
“How are genius classes going?” Adam rolled his eyes and slugged the boy’s shoulder gently.
“They’re boring without you. The others take it all too seriously.” Casey hummed as they stepped into Mrs. Hale’s classroom and found that there were only two desks left, one next to the teacher’s and the other right behind it. Adam immediately took the one in the second row, leaving Casey between the teacher and the new boy. He slid into the desk with a sigh and pulled the paper from Mr. Hale’s class out while the other Hale stood at the front.
“I hope your day is going well so far, but welcome to AP English. First, we’re going to do a little introduction activity starting with Casey.” He looked up sharply at his name and slid the paper from her view out of habit. “Alright, Casey, you’re going to say your name, favorite color, and what you want to do when you graduate high school.”
“Uh, okay, my name is obviously Casey. I like green, and I’m kinda just focusing on getting to high school,” he stated without hesitation, not realizing how his answer sounded until Adam kicked the heel of his shoe. Casey wasn’t apologetic for his honesty, so he only shrugged and moved to continue drawing, but a feeling made him pause. No, not a feeling. It was the New Kid’s voice, smooth and steady.
“I’m Perseus Schuyler, my favorite color is gold, and I want to be a musician.” With mild interest, Casey studied the other boy. He was handsome in a boyish manner, all toned skin and puppy dog eyes. Those eyes made the brunet pause. They weren’t your average green or blue color but a vibrant silver with what looked to be a ring of red around his irises. “You’re staring.”
“Your eyes are interesting,” Casey replied with a half-shrug. “Never seen ‘em quite like yours.” Perseus, odd name but cool, was clearly not from the South. His words were said clearly too clearly to live in the South. Not from the North either, they sound funny. He seems strangely ordinary.
“Never heard an accent likes yours,” Perseus replied with ease, a small smile tugging at his lips as he offered his hand. “I’m Perseus, as you heard.” Casey hesitantly reached out to shake his hand as his grandfather taught him, firm but not too hard, and nodded. Calloused and firm. He has the hands of a pianist or surgeon, but my money is on the latter.
“Casey.” There was something about Perseus, almost like a big warning sign over his head. Something nudged his foot again, and the boy turned around to raise a brow at Adam.
“Do you have a feeling?” The blond mouthed, eyes darting toward Perseus, and Casey tapped his right earlobe twice in confirmation. The boy did get a feeling from Perseus, a vibe of sorts, but he couldn’t tell whether it was good or bad just yet.
Thankfully, their fourth period split for lunch, which gave the two a chance to talk about the vibe. As they left the room, Casey glanced back over his shoulder to find Perseus still sitting at his desk and smiling at him.
Yeah, there was something off about him.
ADAM’S POV
Adam Tolliver had known Casey Boyd since third grade. He had been the new kid, so everyone had already made their friends and chosen who to sit with, which left him alone. He was okay with that; he had preferred to be alone for most of his short life, so he focused on being the smartest in the classroom. Which, came quickly to the young genius, but certainly gained him a few “enemies.” Wes Anderson was one of them.
Adam had always been small for his age, and Wes was at least six inches taller than everyone else, so he had no problem pushing the young blond around. One day, away from the blacktop where Adam sat beneath a tree reading a comic book, Wes had swaggered forward and ripped it from his hands. Of course, he couldn’t fight back, not when he was 80 pounds of sarcasm, and his only defense was his superior intellect. It turned out that he wouldn’t have to.
A figure had slammed into Wes’s side and knocked him to the ground with a dull ‘thump’ before taking the book back. It was Casey, all four feet of him, standing over the resident bully with a glare colder than ice. He was silent as he handed the book back to Adam and then stalked off toward the swings, leaving the group of students in shock.
That was not the start of their epic friendship exactly. For the next week, Adam had followed the other boy around like a duckling. He even sat beside him in class and at lunch, until Casey finally snapped and asked, “Why are you following me?”
“Because,” he had said, “you saved my book. Like my mom said to my dad, he saved her, and now she’s his problem. So, now I’m yours.” Adam had said those words with such finality that Casey had no choice but to be his friend, and protector even though he was tinier than the blond. Almost eight years later, they were still best friends, and Adam knew everything about the other boy, which is how he knew that the New Kid intrigued Casey.
Adam kept his comments to himself until they reached the cafeteria and took a seat at the lone booth in the center of the room. He waited for Casey to slide in across from him and then smiled.
“He’s interesting,” he noted, meadow green eyes looking past him where Perseus Schuyler sat alone looking more confident than an eighth-grader should.
“He’s the shiny, new toy. Give it a week, and people won’t care anymore.” Casey stated simply, fingers tapping the table to a random beat. “We still on for this weekend?” Adam knew he was trying to change the subject, but decided to roll with it. Pushing Casey on anything made his walls come up, and they were a bitch to get back down.
“Of course, you have to help me beat Injustice 2.” Adam’s eyes darted down when he stopped tapping and instead started scratching absently at his left wrist, right where his soulmark would be.
Soulmarks were a topic they rarely discussed, mainly because both of theirs were black. They were both born with one which meant their soulmates would have been older than them, but for as long as Adam could remember, his mark was a jet black moon on his left hip.
It had devastated him when his parents had explained what it meant and when he told Casey, the older boy had confided that his mark was dark as well. To Adam, that meant the world to him because he knew that as long as he had Casey, maybe not having a soulmate wouldn’t be too bad. For the other boy, though, it obviously bothered him because he scratched at it, though usually without thought. Adam wanted to talk about it sometimes, but Casey would always change the subject, so he took that sign for what it was. Don’t broach this topic unless you want a fight.
So, Adam didn’t say anything and instead pulled two sandwiches from his lunchbox. He slid one toward Casey and felt satisfied when a small smile pulled at the other boy’s lips upward. Seeing his best friend smile was something that, sadly, only happened occasionally. The first time he had ever seen Casey actually smile was when they were in fifth grade, and Adam had noticed that he never ate lunch, so he began sharing his lunch every day. He remembered clearly the look on his face when he placed the sandwich in his hands, and it broke his heart when he later realized that Casey had been surprised by the kindness.
After that, he began packing doubles for his best friend because he saw how skinny the brunet was. His parents commented on it all too often and made sure to feed him extra servings every weekend. Still, Adam knew he probably didn’t eat much otherwise. He had asked once, but Casey had simply said he didn’t have a big appetite, which was the end of the discussion. Now, Adam just tried to feed him as much as possible.
“What do you want from life?” The question surprised Adam.
“Uh, I guess I want to play the piano. I mean, with my brain, I could logically do anything,” the genius said absently. Adam had honestly never given much thought to what he would do after college or why he was going to college. Casey hummed but didn’t say anything else. He probably thought Adam didn’t see him look back over his shoulder, but then again, he probably didn’t care.
CASEY’S POV
Casey’s mind was occupied throughout the remainder of lunch, trying to decipher the vibe that the new kid gave off. The vibe wasn’t signaling him of danger, but that Perseus was just in his immediate area. It was frustrating being unable to read him, especially when it was the one thing he felt he was actually good at. Nonetheless, Casey sat back in his seat and turned, facing the teacher’s desk. It made it easier to talk to Adam and ignore the New Kid’s curious gaze.
The last half of fourth period began with a wonderful get-to-know-you activity. One would think that teachers would stop handing these out once you reach a certain age, but no luck. The questions never changed either. What’s your favorite color? What’s your favorite subject? What do you want to be when you grow up? All of the questions were bullshit, so Casey gave bullshit answers. Green, English, and no clue. Bullshit answers for stupid ass questions. With that paper moved to the side, Casey went back to drawing, and this time his gaze settled on an apple on the corner of Mrs. Hale’s desk.
His pen scratched across the paper until the shape became clear, but then a hand settled on his shoulder, and Casey flinched hard at the pain that arced through his skull. The hand withdrew like lightning, and the pain slowly followed until it became a dull throb.
“Done with the questions?” Casey nodded sharply and looked up at Mrs. Hale with an indifferent expression as she picked the paper up. He saw her eyes glance toward the two drawings, surprise evident, but then quickly skim over his answers. A smirk flitted across her face for a minute but then settled into what Casey believed was meant to be a disarming smile. “You’re very straightforward, aren’t you?”
“Why waste time trying to make the truth seem bearable?” Out of habit, Casey looked toward her left wrist, and there lied a sky blue star outlined in black.
“An interesting view, Casey.” The brunet had no idea what to say to that, so he simply shrugged. Mrs. Hale hummed quietly and thankfully moved away from him, but that didn’t ease the pain that her touch had brought on. Adam kicked the side of his knee and raised a brow as if to ask if he was okay. He was as good as he was going to get.
Once everyone had turned in their questions, the rest of the class played an icebreaker game that Casey grudgingly had to participate in. The young boy didn’t see the point in sharing facts about himself with people twenty-one people who could care less and one who already knew them. Each time he lied, Mrs. Hale would look at him curiously as if she somehow knew, but never said anything.
The dismissal bell came surprisingly fast, and Casey was first out the door with Adam hot on his trail. “So, Mrs. Hale, huh?”
“What do you mean?” Casey asked as they stopped by their shared locker to put their stuff away, his baby blues trained on the blond.
“I mean, you were honest with her. You didn’t lie; you didn’t bs your answer. Do you know her or something?” Casey shook his head and adjusted his bag as he pulled his skateboard out.
“No,” he replied simply, “she just gives me a vibe.” Adam frowned as the pair exited the school amongst the other students.
“Good or bad?” Casey couldn’t exactly say painful, now could he?
So, he settled on, “Not sure yet.” As they reached the bottom of the steps, Casey patted his shoulder and waved to where his dad was waiting in the car line. “See you tomorrow.” He quickly moved away before Mr. Tolliver could offer a ride home and shoved his earbuds in. The boy skated back to his house leisurely, his mind preoccupied with everything that had happened.
Both Hales brought the pain to the front of Casey’s head, and he knew it was a sign, he just didn’t know what. They were hard to read as well, just as Perseus was. Casey had a feeling they were hiding something beneath their seemingly perfect exteriors, and he was determined to figure them out.
He skidded to a stop in his driveway and rifled through the bag for his house keys. It was depressingly silent when he walked in, as it always was. Unsurprisingly, his parents were still not back from whatever trip they took this time. Even if they were, Casey knew they wouldn’t be in this house. This was his space. A bedroom, living room, kitchen, bathroom, and small laundry room were all he had, so it made sense that they never stayed there when in town. No, they stayed in their fancy home in Knotville that Casey had never actually been to.
Home sweet home, he thought bitterly as he tossed his backpack onto the couch with more force than intended. Casey could admit that he was lonely. Even in a crowded room of students, he felt utterly invisible, like no one saw him, a nameless face in a sea of potential. On a subconscious level, the boy knew that Adam cared. Still, he knew that it was temporary just as everything else in life was. Everything about him was carefully cultivated to fit people’s perception, and there laid part of his problem. Loneliness
Casey shook his head and quickly moved toward the back door; music was still blaring in his ears. See, he knew a thing or two about secrets, having a few of his own. No one knew that his parents left him alone for weeks at a time, or that the brunet really did not care what happened to him. No one knew the things he could do or what he was hiding. Not like I could ever show them.
A loud squawking drew Casey from his thoughts, and he searched for the sound out of basic instinct. Lying at the base of the big oak tree was a small bird, though he couldn’t tell what species, and as he got closer, he saw the problem. It was a bird, its wing bent at an odd angle, the bone poking out grotesquely, and Casey knew it would die. The boy bit the inside of his cheek in contemplation and then dropped to his knees beside the wounded animal because he was cold, yes, but never cruel.
With a deep breath, Casey held his hand out over the broken wing. He hovered just above it and closed his eyes. Time seemed to slow as his own arm erupted in pain, similar to when he broke it in fourth grade. Casey could hear the cracking and reshaping of bones and knew it was working, so he gritted his teeth and continued until the bird fell silent. His chest was heaving when the pain finally stopped, and it was hard to focus, but the chirping helped.
The bird flapped its wing experimentally before lifting off the ground with ease. Sitting back on his haunches, Casey watched it fly away, feeling both vaguely jealous and exhausted. He longed to be free as a bird, but that wasn’t in the cards for him. Not yet, maybe not ever.
Yeah, Casey knew plenty about secrets.