Oakleaf Academy For Boys

nine

Diesel strolled casually through the corridor, his room key swinging from his finger absentmindedly before he tucked it into his pocket. Once he'd approached the correct room, he leant against the doorframe and knocked twice.

He heard a hushed rustle of fabric and a few groans of complaint before Kit Samuels appeared, looking even more dishevelled than usual. "What d'you want?" He asked bitterly.

Diesel's eyes trailed past Kit, where he could see a thin sliver of the room. "Starr?" Diesel asked in exasperation, noticing his best friend sat crosslegged on the bottom bunk. "What are you doing here?"

Quinn leapt up in panic and joined Kit at the door, blushing furiously, "O-Oh, hey...hey, Diesel. I was just...we were..."

"We're working on a project, Diesel." Kit rolled his eyes. "What do you want?"

"Is your roommate here?" He asked impatiently.

Kit's brows furrowed into a frown, "What d'you want with Benji?"

Diesel was still leant against the doorframe as he smirked knowingly, "I'm calling in a favour."

"Benji doesn't owe you any favours." Kit snapped.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise you kept tags on your roommate's favours. D'you know where he is or not?"

"You think I'd tell you, even if I knew?" He asked dryly. "Just leave him alone."

"Quinn, make him tell me where he is." Diesel instructed firmly, turning his attention to his friend instead.

Quinn's eyes widened in alarm, "I-I can't just...I don't..."

"Oh, fuck this." Diesel grunted, spinning on his heels and heading back the way he came. But it seemed to be his lucky day, because the second he turned around, he saw the exact boy he was looking for, walking straight towards him. His eyes lit up, a cruel smirk tugging onto his features, "Pup! Just the person I was looking for."

Benji froze, his eyes becoming marbles, his blood running icy cold. "W-What d'you want?" He questioned nervously.

"C'mon, we're gonna be late." Diesel marched forward, grabbing his wrist and yanking him past the hallway and down the stairs. Benji followed submissively, too terrified to fight back. His entire body felt weak with nerves, his hands trembling, his lip beginning to bleed from how hard he was biting it.

Diesel didn't remove his hand until he'd led him into the gym and shoved him into a little sports cupboard. Benji felt sick when he shut the door behind them and flicked the light on. It was dimly lit and full of disused equipment. Tennis rackets, rugby balls, hockey sticks and rounders posts. But all Benji could focus on was the guard, lurking by the cricket stumps. He looked to be in his mid to late thirties with a light shade of stubble brushing his chin, his eyes dark and menacing.

"I got a new one for you." Diesel said, planting a hand on the back of Benji's neck, making him flinch and recoil. "Let's see it first."

The guard reached into his back pocket and withdrew a clear plastic, ziplock bag. It was far from full, but a thin layer of white powder sat at the bottom, making Benji's eyes almost pop out of their sockets. "I-Is that...?"

"Don't worry, Pup. You get a cut." Diesel assured him. "You ready?" He asked, snatching the bag of coke off the guard and stuffing it into his pocket.

"W-What...? R-Ready?"

The guard let out a low chuckle as Diesel sighed heavily and leant in to murmur in Benji's ear, "You're gonna help me complete this transaction." He whispered.

And that's when Benji finally lost it. His knees gave way, sending him stumbling back to cling onto the wall, tears brimming in his eyes. "N-No." He whimpered. "No, p-please, Diesel...please." He begged desperately.