Worth the Trouble ✓

31 | half-in

JETHRO'S FACE IS TWISTED WITH rage as he advances towards me. "My sister was in the courtyard, you fucking bastard!"

I step neatly back, dodging his fist as it swings across my face. "That's not my problem."

Jethro growls, an animal sound ripping from the back of his throat. For a while, we circle each other slowly. I wasn't looking for a fight this week. I don't want to get my hands dirty, but I will put this fucker to bed if he doesn't settle down and walk away now.

When Jethro realizes I'm not going to make any offensive moves, he snarls, "What the fuck happened to you?" I don't respond, instead darting lightly in the opposite direction that he moves. He looks almost wounded when he mutters, "You've changed."

I agree. Halloween at the Academy: I saw all those gaping freshmen staring at me from behind their Scream masks and realized exactly how long it's been—how long it feels—since I was one of them.

I spend my weekends like I spend any amount of spare time: with Brittany and co., keeping myself idle, distractive myself under the guise of making new memories without Suki in them. Most of the Monarchy's interactions are eased by at least one substance—alcohol usually, but not always.

Two weeks ago, Dad was promoted at Scoresby Construction Ltd., finally sliding into a diurnal working pattern. Despite not working shifts any more, he still goes out a lot during the evenings. I ask him where he's going, in case it's the bar and I might have to be his designated driver, but most of the time he simply responds, "To see a friend."

Must be somewhat truthful, because he's been returning before midnight, seemingly completely sober. I don't mind the secrecy, the absences. He's not around to see me leave with Reece or Derek on school nights, and therefore I escape a grilling.

Dare Week, as Carsonville High once knew it didn't resonate with me anymore. It was just a week for idealistic, rebellious kids with nothing better to do to live out their thrill-seeking fantasies. A farce for the foolish, so I had to up the stakes.

"We've all changed," I tell Jethro. Most of all him. We used to be friends. Now he's an uptight, overprotective idiot who thinks he can take me on and walk away unscathed. That's not how things work anymore; that's just a fact. Brittany is too protective to let anything happen to me. "Just not always for the better."

I see the exact moment my cocky, carefree tone breaks Jethro. His eyes flare murderously, his nose scrunches up as the rest of his face contorts. Quite simply, he snaps. My ex-friend (were we ever friends, though?) lunges for me, landing a solid strike to my jawbone. I meant for that to happen, drawing his arm away from his ribs to afford me a clean hit—

Someone intercepts my hand, taking all of my force with barely a grunt.

Derek shoves me backwards and steps between Jethro and me. "Tee," he says calmly, glancing over his shoulder to where Jethro smirks at the both of us. "Don't. There are witnesses."

"There are always witnesses," I shrug. "Never stopped you before."

"This time's different. It's serious." My eyebrows raise, hearing the worried tone in Derek's emotionless voice. "Fisher wants to see you. He's already called your dad."

If I was any other kid, I might worry about parental discipline. But doesn't a parent need discipline themselves before doling it out? "Like he'll actually show up."

He might, though. His managerial role at Scoresby would still be waiting for him at the end of the day—I just find that I can't care about consequences from the old man when I've had to pick him up and put him to bed before.

"Just go, man. I'll take care of him." Derek tosses a cursory glance behind him, only to find there's no situation needing taking care of. Now that more teachers and students are arriving on the scene, Jethro slinks back into the crowd and vanishes. Probably to tend to his sister, who is fine.