Drop Dead | Sam Fender

Chapter Seventeen

Aurora

"I could've sworn the boys told us to meet 'em here ten minutes ago," I huffed as I gave the school yard another glance over to see if I could spot them.

"They did. I don't know where the fuck they are," Harlow grumbled.

"I just wanna go home already," I pouted, watching as she paced back and forth. "You're making me feel dizzy, Harls," I groaned from my place on the wall. I knew the girl had trouble keeping still at times but fucking hell.

"I'm worried, Rory. Dean's not answering my calls and I've texted him like ten times," she sighed.

"Sam's not answering us either, I've tried Tom, too. No luck," I sighed. "We're in school, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Oh my God!" she gasped, her eyes fixed on the spot behind me. I frowned as she ran past me, my eyesight followed the direction she ran in. I just had to ask, didn't I?

"Tom!" I exclaimed, jumping down from the wall and stalking past Sam and Dean toward the clearly injured boy. "What the fuck happened?"

"S'nothing, Rora. I'm fine," Tom winced as I grasped his cheeks gently to study his eye which was already beginning to swell.

"Tom," I spoke, warning lacing my tone as he tried to brush my hands away from his face.

"I had a bit of a run-in with one of the lads in our year, that's all. Mind if I come over for a couple of hours?" he asked sheepishly. "I don't want me parents or Heidi to see me looking like this."

"Course. You can stay over tonight if ya want, dad's on nights," I told him.

"Thanks, lass," he smiled.

"Ya know you can't hide from them forever, Tom," Harlow frowned as we began our walk home.

"I-I know," he mumbled, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. "Can we just talk about sommat else? Please."

Harlow and I agreed reluctantly, still eager to find out what had actually happened but I would get that out of him later. We practically walked in silence, no one really knowing what to say. I was stuck in my own head, worried about what the hell had gone down whilst I wasn't there, Tom clearly wasn't in the mood for conversation and neither were the others. We said our goodbyes to Dean and Harlow when they reached his house and thankfully, it didn't take too much longer for us to reach mine, easily settling down on the sofas.

"Ya gan tell us who did this to ya?" I asked Tom quietly as I passed him an ice pack for his eye, which he took with a small appreciative nod. He stayed quiet. "Was it Josh?" No response. "Course it fuckin' was. Did the bastard not learn his lesson the first time? I'll fuckin' end him."

"Rora. Rora!" he exclaimed, pulling me from my rant before I ended up hunting the lad down. "This is why I didn't wanna tell ya. It's alreet."

"Tom, have ya looked in the mirror?" I asked sternly, placing my hands on my hips. "It's not alreet."

"Please just leave it," he pleaded. I didn't reply. "Rora."

"Reet, fine!" I agreed reluctantly. "If anything like this happens again though..."

"Glad to know ya've got my back," he joked.

"Course I have," I snorted. "Now, ya gan tell me where else you're hurt?"

"I don't know what you're on about," he shrugged.

"Stop lying. I can see you wincing from here. Lift your shirt up." I demanded.

"Whoah. Sam sort your missus oot," he sniggered but I wasn't in the mood for games. My concern for the older boy had pissed on my joking mood long ago.

"Josh is gan be the least of your worries in a minute," I grumbled, folding my arms across my chest. Tom dropped the facade and pursed his lips together for a moment, gritting his teeth as he lifted the side of his shirt up. I gasped as I noticed the mix of purple and red splotches encasing his entire side. "Fuckin' hell, Tom. What did he do to ya?"

"Punched us, kicked us a few times. No big deal," he mumbled with a shrug, brushing it off as though it was completely normal to get your head kicked in.

"No big deal? You need to go to A&E, your ribs could be broken!" I told him in horror.

"No hospital. Please," he begged, quickly pulling his shirt back down.

"Tom."

"Rora, please," he pleaded.

"Fine. But you better tell me when you're in pain, do you understand?" I agreed reluctantly. He nodded his head. "I'd better get some more ice packs. And some painkillers."

"Alreet, dad?" I smile sleepily as I answered the phone.

"Hello, love. Everything alreet?" he asked. After dosing Tom up on painkillers and sending him off to sleep in the spare room, Sam and I had settled on the sofa for an hour before finally deciding to call it a night, calling my dad to let him know the two boys were staying over.

"Yeah, everything's fine. Tom and Sam are staying the night if that's alreet?" I asked quietly. "Tom's in the spare room and Sam's gan sleep in my bed, I'm just gan jump in yours."

"That's fine. I trust yous. Everything reet with Tom? He don't normally stay round," he questioned. I swore that he was psychic or something. He always seemed to know what was going on, even when I didn't tell him. It was a sort of sixth sense he gained ever since my mother passed, I suppose it was his way of looking after her baby.

"Yeah, he got into a bit of a... scuffle in school. He'll be reet soon enough," I assured him.

"Alreet then. If ya say so. I'll let you go then, love," he told you. "Sweet dreams, I love you."

"I love you, too, dad. G'night," I whispered before ending the call.