When the bell rang for lunch several hours later, Lucien packed up Advanced Placement English textbook and notebook, stowing them in his bag and swinging it over his shoulder. It was one of the few classes he wasn’t sharing with Tiberius. As the rest of the class filed out, he followed from the back slowly with his eyes glued to his phone’s social media feed.
Shock in Central! Hyperion clashes with Obsidian Juggernaut!
The headline was accompanied by various clips from both TV crews and onlookers as the massive Nigerian supervillain exchanged blows with Hyperion, empowered by his ability to transform into a twenty-five foot giant with tremendous strength and endurance. Hyperion was soaring around him, hitting him with his solarfire eye beams and stylistic aerial blows that sent the villain reeling.
From what Lucien could discern, Obsidian Juggernaut had stolen two armoured cars, and had them strapped to his back like backpacks. “He’s lucky it was Hyperion who found him, and not King Raven.” Lucien muttered, agreeing with a twitter poster who expressed precisely the same sentiment.
King Raven was a first-generation Nigerian-American Meta who had taken a severe and personal dislike to Obsidian Juggernaut, most likely because of the former’s work campaigning against civil injustice across America. Whenever they met, the corvid-themed Superhero seemed determined to beat the ever-loving snot out of Obsidian Juggernaut, as if he were the mascot for the stereotypes King Raven fought against daily.
When the last of the students ahead of him left the room, Lucien made his own way out after the teacher, locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket. He emerged into the crowded hallway a moment later and glanced around, contemplating the fastest way to get to the cafeteria through the chattering students. That is, until a voice he loathed stole his attention.
“Lousy Lucy.” Jason Theraux greeted him with a sneer, pushing off from the wall with a few of his lacrosse friends as company. The tall blond was dressed rich, with a designer navy blazer, cream polo, and hugging denim jeans designed to stretch and fit. His shoes alone were probably worth hundreds. “I heard you were throwing a party. Where’s my invite?”
Lucien’s expression shifted into a carefully blank mask as Jason approached, his brown eyes meeting the taller boy’s piercing blue. “You heard about the party.” He said carefully, glancing at the lacrosse thugs surrounding him. “You should ask Ty for an invite.” He deflected, hoping to distract Jason. The blond wouldn’t even consider directly messing with Tiberius.
“It’s your birthday party, isn’t it?” Jason asked, before laughing mockingly. “Lucy, no one gives a shit about your birthday. No one is even talking about it. Besides, we all just assumed you spawned out of the garbage like the cockroach you are.” He waved a dismissive hand, smirking. “Nah, we just want to party it up in Eastport.”
“Again, you’ll need to ask Ty.” Lucien repeated as he turned to leave, only to be blocked by one of the lacrosse thugs who stared down at him daringly.
“You’re not hearing me, Lousy. We’re going to that party, and you’re going to make sure nobody questions it. This isn’t a negotiation.”
Lucien swallowed his nervousness, refocusing his attention on Jason and trying a more defiant tactic. “Did you get kicked in the head by your donkey, Theraux? You can’t coerce an invite out of me. Just fuck off already.”
Jason, instead of turning the angry red Lucien had come to associate with his perennial bully’s frustration, smiled cruelly instead. That, more than anything, caused Lucien to go on guard. That was not what he’d expected. “Ah, but Lucy — how can I possibly miss your birthday ceremony?”
Lucien blinked in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“You know, Lucy. The one where your loser dead mother used to give you those big cuddles and sing you the special song your non-existent daddy sang for her?”
Lucien’s vision skewed at Jason’s words. Nobody knew about that. It was impossible for him to know about that. The only person who knew was—!
“Look at his face, Jace!” One of the thugs, an Asian kid named Reese, said with a laugh. “He looks like you just turkey slapped him.”
“Nah man,” Jason said with a laugh. “I think that’s probably more appropriate for when his mom was out getting money for his—!” Jason’s mouth snapped shut when Lucien abruptly slammed his fist into it, smashing his knuckles against the lacrosse captain’s jaw hard enough for his bones to pop in protest.
The blond boy staggered, lip bleeding from the hit, and a look of shock on his features — before it abruptly melted into rage, and sudden satisfaction. “You saw that, right?” He called to the small crowd of onlookers that had gathered. “You saw Lousy Lucy hit me!”
Several of them nodded, seeming as surprised as Jason had been.
Ah. Fuck.
“Good.” The blond said simply, before stepping forwards and smashing his fist into Lucien’s mouth.
Much to his own chagrin, Lucien suffered the hit with far less grace than Jason had suffered his; slamming back against the wall of the corridor and grunting at the pain of his head smacking against it.
“You think you can fucking hit me?” Jason seethed, grabbing him by the collar. “You orphan piece of shit!”
A flash of light and subsequent darkness in his left eye, followed by dull throbbing, told him that Jason had hit him a second time. Lucien released an involuntary groan, still tasting copper from the first punch. A split cheek, or a cut lip? It was hard to figure out. His face hurt too much.
“You think I give a fuck about your dead whore mother, you trash rodent? Fuck your mother!” Another hit, this time to his stomach, caused Lucien to curl up on the ground.
The crowd nearby murmured among themselves, and several had pulled out phones, though Jason was speaking too quietly to be heard over the din of the watching students.
“I’m coming to your fucking party, you little weasel, and your boyfriend can’t fucking protect you anymore. If he tries shit, I’ll find you when you’re alone and introduce you to my fucking mallet!” A kick accompanied the words, and Lucien felt the air leave his lungs. Bile rose in his throat.
Jason reached down to grab him again and lifted his struggling body off the floor, sneering into his face as he opened his eyes. “Happy birthday, you fucking loser.” Jason spit in his face, and a final punch put him back on the ground, and left his jaw aching.
“Gross.” Jason said as he walked away, Lucien’s eyes following his retreating footsteps. “His fucking pimples bled on my hand. What a freak.” The laughter of Jason’s friends and exclamations of disgust from the watching crowd hit harder than the last punch had. Near the back of the watching crowd, Lucien spotted several of Tiberius’ swim and football teammates. None of them had chosen to intervene, and a couple were even smiling in amusement.
Not like that’s unexpected. He thought venomously. Ty was too trusting.
A minute or so passed as the crowd dispersed, with nobody wanting to be seen offering help to the weirdo Sophomore. Predictably, no teachers or hall security were in sight as Lucien picked himself up off the floor gingerly, gathering his dropped bag and steadying himself against the wall. He took a moment to collect himself and wipe the spit and blood from his face, eyes closed as he breathed in and out. Great, my nose isn’t working right.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
His hand reached up to feel at his face, and as expected felt an oddity in the shape of his nose. He thought back to his Uncle’s first aid training and steeled himself, gripping his nose between the fore and middle fingers of his left and right hands before taking a breath and forcefully straightening it. A snarl of pain accompanied the motion, but his breathing immediately became easier, though the trail of blood from his nose wasn’t ideal.
“Fuck.” He muttered to himself, looking around the now less crowded corridor and ignoring the alarmed glances of students who hadn’t witnessed the relatively brief altercation. He was stupid for letting Jason goad him. All because he’d mentioned the birthday ritual he and his mother used to have. She’d loved to sing the same song to him, the one she’d said his father had won her heart with. It had been a connection to the Dad he’d never properly known, and a means for his mom to remember the love they’d shared.
His eyes widened as he remembered his initial thought process, and Lucien abruptly set off through the corridor, shoving past lazy walkers to the sound of annoyance as he made his way for the outside tables near the recreational green, rage pumping in his veins and combining with the post-altercation adrenaline to give him strength. The doors loomed up ahead what seemed to be moments later and he strode through them, sweeping the area rapidly until he found his target where he’d expected; seated at the central table, surrounded by every other high status member of First High including Tiberius.
When he set off towards the table, mutters followed him as people saw the state of his face, and more than one person beat a hasty retreat at the sheer violence of his advance. As he closed in on the table, people finally started noticing, and it was Taylor Addams — a willowy redhead from The Squad — that spotted him first. “Holy shit.” She said simply, staring at him in shock.
The rest of the table quickly followed her gaze, and Lucien was only half-aware of Tiberius’ features going from slack, to stunned, and then to furious. Ignoring his friend’s reaction, however, Lucien instead lifted his right hand, and his finger pointed straight forwards: Directly at Harper Keen. Every eye in the area was rapidly zooming in to the dramatic moment, and Harper’s face flickered as she saw him. Surprise, anger, bewilderment, and at the end a flash of pity. That, more than anything else, fuelled his next words.
“You fucking cunt.” He spat, voice raised enough for the entire area to hear.
Shock rippled through the crowd, and even Tiberius reared his head back in surprise, while Harper’s cheeks rapidly coloured.
“You just had to fucking tell him, didn’t you? You miserable fucking bitch, it wasn’t enough to treat me like shit, you had to make sure you really rubbed the fucking salt in, huh? Huh!?”
Tiberius stood up as if to step in, then hesitated when Harper spoke.
“What the hell are you talking ab—?!”
“Shut the FUCK up!” Lucien snarled, stunning the entire outside into silence, and causing Harper’s jaw to drop. “You told him, you miserable cunt! You told him about the song!”
Confusion played across the faces of the assembled, rightfully confused by the accusation. Only Tiberius, and Harper herself, seemed to understand what he’d meant — and while Tiberius’ eyes widened, Harper turned pale. “I… Lucien I don’t—!”
“Don’t fucking lie to me!” He raged, shaking with fury. He could feel tears now, but he didn’t care, not a bit. Let them see, what did it matter? His social standing was already nonexistent. “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me, you bitch.” Harper almost seemed frantic by then, but Lucien couldn’t bring himself to care. Let her reap what she’d sown. “I didn’t care about you trying to slut your way into Ty’s pants, but this!? My mother? Fuck you, Harper! She loved you, you poisonous cunt!”
“Lucien, enough—!” Tiberius started, stepping forwards as the student body collectively jaw-dropped at his tirade.
“SHUT UP TY!” Lucien roared. With his attention turned to Tiberius, he saw Harper’s look of growing horror at his actions. He couldn’t find it in himself to care. “You and your fucking oblivious ass idiocy! I just got the shit kicked out of me, and a whole gang of your bucket-head football bros stood there and fucking laughed.” Lucien himself laughed then, aware he looked demented and not able to care a whit, tears stinging his ruined face.
“You’re so fucking stupid, Tiberius. You think these vapid fucking morons actually give a shit what you think? At least those fucking chimps you call teammates aren’t afraid to be honest! I’m tired of being your fucking sidekick, ‘brother’.” He was aware of how cruel his voice was, but at that moment, it didn’t matter at all.
“You and Harper fucking deserve each other. Fuck you. Fuck the lot of you.” He drew in and hocked up a wad of blood and saliva on the ground near them, his gaze boring into Harper with hatred at the last. “I wish my mom was alive, if only so she could be as disgusted by you as I am, Harpster.”
Satisfaction filled him at the way Harper physically flinched at the use of his mother’s nickname for her, a nickname he knew she’d done her best to forbid anyone from using. He suspected she was mortified by it, which would only serve to better ram home his point. His mother had loved Harper, and treated her like a daughter when they’d been children. He doubted she cared too much, but it still felt good to say what he’d said.
Stunned silence filled the area, broken only when Jason approached with his lacrosse thugs, eyes moving between Harper and Ty’s table and Lucien warily. Upon spotting him, Lucien turned and promptly gave Jason two middle fingers, before turning on his heel and storming away. Had he stayed, he might have seen Tiberius’ gaze shift from his retreating back to Jason, and a mix of anger and suspicion begin taking form on his handsome features.
Lucien paid little attention to the faces he passed as he walked, pushing his way through the school with angry tears still blurring his vision. A few voices called out to him, either in protest for his rudeness or asking if he was alright, but he paid them no heed. He crossed the school and walked out of its front doors ten minutes after his outburst, pulling out his phone and opening up New Avalon Cruising, the rideshare app specific to the mega city.
Once he’d confirmed his pick-up and been alerted that Corey would be arriving in her Prius within the next ten minutes, Lucien reached up to wipe his eyes and brush away the tears on his face, wincing at the pain of doing so. He sighed to himself as he felt the adrenaline and the rage ebbing away, arms rising to hug himself as his teeth chattered. Anxiety wasn’t anything new to him, and the feeling of his stomach roiling in displeasure was something he’d come to expect from the onset of the panic that followed a major loss of his temper.
Lucien had never been a violent or aggressive person, and the few times he had lost his shit were always high-stress moments. He could, in fact, count on one hand the amount of times he’d blown up — and never more than three times at Tiberius. He wasn’t overly worried about his best friend’s reaction, despite the guilt that accompanied the train of thought. Ty was consistent, if nothing else. He’d give Lucien space, text him in a little while, and then probably pretend as if nothing had happened until Lucien was ready to talk.
As for Harper… Well, that he didn’t regret at all. The mere thought of the Queen Bee of First High made his blood boil, especially remembering how close she’d been with his mother. The level of betrayal inherent to her revealing the secret of the song to Jason, especially when Harper herself only knew because Lucien and his mother had trusted her with the secret and included her? It infuriated him. He could feel the threads of anger, and more deeply, the disappointment. It hurt to think of how low she’d fallen.
“What’s done is done.” He said out loud, as if forcing himself to hear it, voice shaking with adrenaline. “Focus on the next step.”
A massive part of him sorely wanted to call off the party, but that seemed too much like a victory for Jason. Then what? Have the party and simply pretend that everything was okay? That pathway felt cowardly to him as well, but it was Tiberius who would suffer if it was cancelled. Angry at his friend as he was, Lucien wasn’t really willing to completely nuke Ty’s chances of enjoying his Junior year. It was an odd line to not want to cross, given how viciously he’d just torn into his god-brother, but in his head the line was clear in a strange kind of way. There was rage, and then there was cruelty — and Lucien couldn’t bring himself to be cruel to Ty, even if he’d said horrible things in the heat of his rage.
“Guess the party’s on, then.” He muttered to himself in resignation. He’d need to find a different way of making sure Jason, Harper, and their sycophants didn’t ruin his birthday bash. Outright banning them was too obvious. In truth, there was a part of him that was even excited at the prospect of going into Junior Year as a little less of a loser. The events of the day hadn’t given him much hope for the prospect, but at least there were some.
The sound of a horn and a beep in his phone told him that his ride had pulled up, and Lucien glanced at the baby blue Prius. A final glance back at his school hardened his resolve, and he walked to the car, opening the door and slotting himself into the front seat. Corey, his driver, was a college-aged black girl with a dizzying array of colours in her hair and a wide, warm smile. When she saw his face she didn’t say anything, and simply smiled a little more gently. “Where to, then?”
Lucien smiled back in appreciation for her tact. “Eastport Beach.”
She nodded and turned the wheel, nonchalantly handing him a box of facial wipes as she did. He blinked for a moment, then accepted them with a murmur of thanks and quietly cleaned the blood from his face as they departed. He never looked back, focussing on the road outside his window as the Prius made for the exit of the school car park. Harper, Tiberius, and all his teenage drama was left behind — and he settled in to enjoy a quiet drive to the beach that had become his sanctuary.