Below the Surface

October 3rd, 1982

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Language, big violence, brief descriptions of alcohol and drugs, 

It had been about three weeks since Robin and Finney had been over, and since then, chemistry had gotten scary. You'd think it be easy to memorize what bonds hint at what the smell of the molecule is, but no. It's not. It's really hard. And as kind of a teacher, as she was, Mrs. Georges wasn't very good at her job. So, the three of you had agreed to work on some of the homework together again. It helped last time, why not this time? 

Unfortunately, Al hadn't had the best day at work and was not thrilled at the idea of having guests over. Namely, he didn't want Robin Arellano in his house that particular night. 

"I don't like the idea of you hanging out with him," Uncle Al had said once you informed him that there would be another study group that night. "He's bad news." 

"From what I've been told, my dad was, too, and you still went to his funeral," you muttered. You hadn't had the greatest day either, and you were in no mood to put up with Al's shrill voice. 

"What did you say?" His voice was higher now. It reminded you of Vance Hoppers' voice before he lunged at you. Not good. 

You shook your head. "Nothing. I just have to pass this class. I've got a better chance of that if we put our minds together." 

"Yeah, well, when you put them together, make sure to leave the door open a bit. I don't want you behind closed doors with Robin." 

"You know, why don't you ever talk about Finney the way you do about Robin? They're in the same place, you know. His mom died. His dad is a violent drunk. And he's been in some fights, too. He's never lost, either. It's the same with Robin, just backward. If you're going to hate on Robin for the same things Finn's going through, then you better start hating Finn, too." 

Damn, go off. 

Al didn't reply right away, but he glowered at you. He knew you were right. 

"Finney isn't on the road to dropping out and becoming an addict like Robin is." 

You had two choices here. You could explain, in detail, why that was such a terrible presumption to make about a kid he barely knew and how Robin wasn't going to drop out or get into drugs (in fact, he was quite against them), or you could leave. And it looked like booking it was the safest option. 

You just rolled your eyes and walked up the stairs. I really should get a diary, you thought. I can tell the truth in a diary and not have to worry about it. 

____________

After Robin and Finney left that night, Uncle Al gently knocked on your door. Hesitantly, you permitted his entrance. He sat on the edge of your bed, an almost triumphant look on his face. 

"I was right about Robin." 

You rolled your eyes. "Do we really have to--" 

"Let me finish. He called your teacher a bitch."

Wow, solid evidence right there. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you can see that you're facing a criminal right now.

"Okay, now it's my turn to talk. First, he didn't call my teacher a bitch. He was talking about the gym teacher, who made him run two extra laps around the track for spilling a bit of his water. Second of all, you don't get to make an opinion on Robin based on the one thing he said. Nobody at that school likes Mr. Heeler. It's common knowledge. And third, I really don't appreciate you telling me how much you hate my friend. Oh, and might I add that you encouraged me to make friends. Beggars can't be choosers, you know." You said this as calmly as you could, but if your cheeks were as red as they were hot, you didn't look calm. You probably looked like you'd been left out in the snow for too long. 

"How old are you?" 

"I'm fifteen." 

"How old am I?" 

"I don't know. Early fifties?" 

"Which number is bigger?"

"You're really going to bring age into an argument about someone you know next to nothing about?" You raised your eyebrows, no longer feeling like hiding your anger. This was straight-up petty. And mean. 

"No, I'm going to bring experience into an argument about someone that I know is on the wrong path." 

"You know what? No. I'm not doing this. I'm going to bed. Close my door on your way out." 

You turned over and yanked the blanket up and over your head. Uncle Al sighed his breathy sigh (it always drove you nuts when he did that) and stood up. 

"One day, you'll see Robin Arellano's name in the paper, and that he'd been arrested or died. And you'll think 'I should have listened to old Uncle Al'. You'll thank me one day." 

With that, he stood and left the room, leaving the door ajar on his way out just to further annoy you. You got up, closed the door, and climbed back into bed, tears beginning to stream down your face. Maybe it was because he'd heard rumors about Robin's fighting skills (which were comparable with Wade Garrett's, or even Dalton's), or maybe it was because Finney was white and Robin was half Mexican, or maybe he just didn't like him, but Al had it out for Robin. And it wasn't fair. He had encouraged you to make friends. And when you told him you did, he was thrilled. But as soon as he found out that one of those friends was Robin, it was like he was thinking about fileting some Y/N for dinner. 

It wasn't fair. 

____________

Grabber POV:

Once I was sure Y/N was asleep, I headed out. I had been tracking Robin's routes and had found out that he lived on the other side of the high school. It was an easy enough route. Park in front of the driveway, knock on the door, grab Robin, and go. If mom answered, though, I'd just have to come back another day. I doubted she would answer, though. I had deduced that she worked night shifts, through the grapevine, and it looked pretty dark out to me. 

Robin's house was plain, as I suspected. Messy front lawn, though. Needed a good mow and water. Oh, well. Not Robin's problem anymore. I knocked on the front door, shivering as a strong gust of wind blew through town. As I suspected, Robin answered the door. 

"Hi, Mr. Shaw," he said. "Can I help you?" 

"Yes, actually; you can. You see, I don't like you much." 

"I figured." 

"Smart boy. Now, here's how you can help me: you could make my life so much better by staying away from Y/N. How's that sound?" I smiled at him, but he didn't return it. 

"Honestly, Mr. Shaw, I think you're crazy. Y/N is my friend, and if you can't accept that, then I guess you can suffer." 

I laughed. He didn't. I stopped and bent down to his level. 

"You want to see a magic trick?" 

He raised a skeptical eyebrow but didn't say no. How fun! I took my hat off and flipped it over, showing him that there was nothing inside. There was, however, a can of pepper spray up my sleeve, and he sure didn't see that. 

"There's nothing in my hat. You see? Nothing. Now, watch this." I reached into the hat, letting the pepper spray fall out of my sleeve and into my hand. I held it up to his face. "Surprise!" 

I pressed down on the top, getting his eyes directly. I pocketed the spray as he began to scream. Hurriedly, I clasped my hand over his mouth and dragged him towards my van. He fought me every step of the way. I won't lie, he was a strong kid. No wonder he hadn't lost any fights. I shoved him into the back of the van and climbed in after him. This wasn't the routine, but I couldn't take him home. It would wake Y/N up, and then she would surely call the police. Honestly, I'm surprised she's lasted this long without calling them.

I produced a pocket knife from my back pocket and flipped the blade up. I didn't like doing this in such a public area, but I didn't have much of a choice. Y/N hadn't left me any choice. This was really her fault if you think about it. If she had just stayed away from him, I wouldn't have had to do this. She was right about Finney Blake, though. They were in the same boat. I began to wonder to myself if they would meet the same fate.