SANTIAGO FELT A MIX of apprehension and resignation. He had to attend high school again and the thought filled him with dread. It always ended up the same way: detention, suspension, and expulsion. Then on to the next school. This would make seven since his freshman year.
To be fair Santiago never actively tried to get thrown out of school. He attended class most days, turned in homework, and passed his tests. Grades were always up to par.
It was people that were his problem.
Santiago did not start those fights. He ended them.
Teachers did not see it that way.
Once a problem child, always a problem child. It did not matter if they provoked him, threw the first punch, or even when it was in defense of someone else. They wanted him to lay down and take it.
Santiago did not have it in him to do that.
It did not matter if he could not win. It was not about winning. It was about not losing.
They never understood that either.
“Whoa,” Santiago peered out the window at the sprawl of buildings, “That’s a high school. Damn they be doing it up big in Bellevue.”
Rosenia laughed, “See you might even find something you like here. Meet some new friends.”
He snorted, “Doubtful.”
Santiago did not need new friends, at least not the kind he would find in this place. Santiago had friends. Real ones.
The ones that when everything fell apart they did not hesitate to pick up the pieces.
Alejo used to run with him in the middle of the night to snatch and grab from the market so Santiago and his mom could have food in the fridge. Lola would sneak her parents pills so they could make a quick buck to keep the water on.
He doubted a single one of these kids had ever seen a past due envelope. Never felt the pit in their stomach seeing a notice posted on their door. Watching their mother sob over having to choose between food or a roof over their head.
Car door swung shut behind him and he did not bother to look back. Map printed on the back of his agenda notebook told him where to start off on his first day of class.
With a mixture of awe and unease Santiago’s eyes wander across the halls of the campus. Gleaming marble floors, towering windows, not a scratch or speck of graffiti in sight. Around him the students flowed by decked out in perfectly pressed uniforms.
He did not belong here. They knew it too.
Cautious eyes stole glances as they leaned in to whisper to one another.
The bell rang. All the students filed into their designated classrooms. It took him a few minutes to find it.
He held up his schedule for the teacher’s inspection before she could ask. The usual core courses, a Spanish class make for a perfect midday nap, and a computer science elective which was the only one with any openings.
Clad in a modest yet meticulously chosen attire, everything from her perfectly coiffed hair tucked into a neat bun spoke of a woman prim and proper. Down to her makeup applied with precision, a splash of artificial red on her cheeks to give her alabaster skin some life.
“Well then Mister—” Mrs. Bell started.
“Santiago.”
“Santiago, would you like to introduce yourself to the class?”
“No.” He replied flatly.
There were a few audible snickers from somewhere in the back. Santiago had never seen so many white people in one place since the time his mother took him to a country concert. He liked the hicks much better than these uppity preps.
“Then please take a seat.” She replied gently, turning her attention back to the projector.
Slung his bag on the back of the chair leaning heavily on the desk in front of him. The drone of the woman’s voice blended into warbled gibberish while he struggled to stay awake.
This was going to be a long day.
“Am I boring you Mister Santiago.” The nasally voice of the scraggly haired old man roused him from his nap. Behind a pair of old-fashioned spectacles, the teacher's eyes peered down at him with a flicker of annoyance.
Santiago straightened up in his seat. “Yeah, little bit.”
“Then perhaps you’d like to nap in the principal’s office.” Worn-out corduroy pants and faded button-up shirt left wrinkled and untucked, the unkempt man’s puce wrinkled face began to match his shirt.
“Whatever man.” Santiago shrugged.
Mr. Gates tapped his index finger on the surface of the desk, voice rising. “Coming in the middle of the year you think you’d be a bit more concerned about paying attention. If you don’t earn a B or above on your assignments, you’re going to fail this class.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“Noted.” Santiago grabbed his bag and handed the man a few sheets of paper.
“What’s this?”
Santiago pointed at the side of the white board with the teacher's scrawl on the class agenda. “This week's homework.”
The teacher flipped through the page’s brows furrowed.
Lunch time. The only part of school he liked. Sometimes.
Cafeteria food was hit or miss. This school was more of a buffet restaurant. Now this was something he could get used to.
Taking his tray, he made his way outside taking a seat on the concrete ledge that surrounded the base of a tree. It was quiet here and away from the raucous noise of hundreds of teenagers.
Santiago was not oblivious to the looks he garnered as he meandered through this place. A part of him was amused by the attention.
Santiago squinted, “Oh hell.”
Mia’s strawberry brows pulled together over her brown eyes, the warmth of her hair brought out flecks of red in them. “What are you doing here?”
“Apparently I go here now.”
“Obviously.” Mia’s freckled nose wrinkled, “I meant here, I sit here.”
“Don’t see your name on it.”
She rolled her eyes walking around the tree to sit with her back to him.
They ate in silence.
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Santiago thought he had been doing a good job so far. He had not skipped any classes, been turning in all his work, and not a single fight had broken out. He kept his nose clean. That was the goal. Everything should have been good.
Thompson had a very different opinion.
Santiago slumped in his chair as he sat across from Thompson as he flicked through his notes.
Sleeping in class, being openly rude to teachers, isolating himself and making no effort to befriend classmates. The blatant refusal to abide by the prestigious academy’s uniform had also ruffled a lot of feathers.
“I need you to grasp the importance of your actions, especially in this new school environment,'' the concern plain on Thomposon’s face as he urged Santiago. “We’re working towards your emancipation case, and every positive step you take counts towards that goal. Your behavior at this academy can significantly influence the outcome.”
Santiago let out a sigh, his hands rubbing over his face with an audible groan. “I don’t want to be here, Thompson. I’d rather be in a regular public school. This place is all about appearances, I’m not here for all that.”
Thompson set his notepad aside, giving the boy his undivided attention, “It is challenging to adapt to a new environment, especially one so different from what you’re used to. But right now, being at this academy can work in your favor. If you can put your best foot forward, show that you can meet the expectations and get positive referrals from your instructors, it will help expedite your case.”
Santiago eyed the man skeptically, “You think it will really make a difference?”
Thompson gave a reassuring smile, “I genuinely do. By demonstrating that you can thrive in this environment, it will show that you’re capable of adapting and making positive choices for your future. It will strengthen your case.”
Santiago nodded. If he wanted the chance to have control over his own life he needed to prove himself. It still left a bitter taste in his mouth to swallow his pride and pretend to be something he was not. He fought his entire life for the right to exist as he was. Against all the guiding hands that tried to mold him into what they thought he ought to be.
It felt like giving up.
“I do all this asskissing, blazer and khaki bullshit and find out you’re fucking with me, Thompson,” Santiago sucked air through his teeth as he glowered at the man. “I am going to beat your ass.”
Thompson smiled.
He could see it now, the determination that Bennett had talked about. For all his posturing and angry outbursts Santiago was driven. He would do what is necessary to achieve his goals. Getting back home to his mother could push him down a better path with enough guidance.
Santiago was not giving up and neither was Thompson.
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In the quiet darkness the house stood proudly, a two-story structure with timeless elegance. Large windows with ornate frames adorned the front. Only vague silhouettes behind the glass were barely distinguishable with the soft ambient lighting that illuminated the walkway leading to the front door.
Bennett had already scoped the place out during the day to assess the best point of entry past the security cameras. It made it easier that he had been here once before. He knew there were no cameras in the backyard. He cut through the lush well-tended gardens of the neighbor seated behind Sean’s house whose only security came in the form of motion lights.
Bennett vaulted over the brick wall that separated the two homes. Approaching the double patio doors he nimbly picked the lock. He had already given himself a small five minute window to get in and get out when the security alarm inevitably went off.
It did not.
This was the first thing that told Bennett something was wrong.
The second was the smell.
Thickly chemical scent of freshly poured gasoline and acetone combined with the foul bodily odor that hung in the air of vomit and feces.
Flicking on the lights he followed the stench into the living room.
Facedown on the tile was the corpse of Sean Varney bloated and discolored still in his uniform from work. Dark brown blotches peppered the wall beside him. Stab wounds littered his back, the hilt of the blade discarded on the floor after the blade had snapped off.
They had caught him from behind before he could arm his security system.
They had to have slipped in right behind him. The furniture was upended like a bomb went off and everything had been blown across the room. Bennett followed the trail of destruction down the hall every room in as much disarray as the last.
Varney’s study door was ajar.
The mess in here told a different story. In all the rooms he had passed furniture had ended and drawers emptied in a scattered mess flung about in all directions. Within the study everything had been emptied but the contents of what was in the drawers had been tossed about in a small radius surrounding the furniture pieces.
That told him that the mess out there was a display made to look as though a robbery occurred yet valuables like flatscreen televisions, costly appliances, and even jewelry had been left behind. It was much the same here except the computer upon closer inspection of the desktop it was evident the hard drive was removed. The laptop he had come for was discarded in the middle of the floor in a similar condition.
Someone had beaten him to the backup drive..
Back out to where Sean laid with his gloved hands he rifled through the computer bag. Aside from some paperwork there was nothing of interest to him.
Grimacing, Bennett patted the corpse down flipping Varney over exposing the distended belly. Attached to his belt were the tools of his trade flashlight, baton, pepper spray, cellphone, a mini first aid kit, and a taser. His pockets held a couple pens, a notepad with melted scrawl of old statements, and the jingle of keys.
One key caught his eye, it had no ridges and a blunt end. Not totally abnormal for a hospital key it was the flicker of gold at the tip that caught his attention. It was a USB.
Slipping the key from the ring set he pocketed it.
Tapping at the security system he armed it once more before he exited. He sauntered over to the nearest bedroom window pulling his leather jacket off and wrapped it around the bed of his arm. Bennett slammed his elbow into the glass shattering it.
With that he leapt over the wall once more leaving behind the empty home as the alarm blared.