One More Year

Chapter 2

His alarm went off at exactly 5:45 a.m. Jack sat up, breathing heavy. He desperately grabbed at his phone, turning off the alarm before it woke up Snyder. He held his breath, mentally counting to ten, waiting to hear footsteps coming down the hall. When Jack was sure that no one was coming, he let out a breath and ran a hand over his face. There was really no winning in this situation. Set the alarm and risk waking up Snyder, don't set an alarm and risk being late and Snyder finding him asleep. Both were equally terrifying.

Trying to keep silent as his aching body protested, he pushed himself out of bed. He'd gotten at least an hour of sleep last night, maybe two. He was tired, no questioning that, but you learn to sleep light when you could have someone barge into your room at any hour of night because he needs a punching bag.

Jack grabbed his bloody shirt from the night before and silently opened the door. He tiptoed to the bathroom where he shut the door and turned on the light. He stared at himself in the mirror. Not the worst he'd looked. Not bad enough to miss school at least.

Using the clean sleeve of his shirt, he washed his face, making sure to clean off the dried blood. When that was done, he soaked the shirt in the water, rubbing handsoap into the stains.

When the shirt was as clean as it was going to get, he made his way back to his room. Flipping the light on, he pulled out his only other long sleeve shirt. He still had some bruises on his arms and even if he did wear his sweatshirt all day, it was cold. The sweater was thin and grey. If Charlie saw him he would tease him for looking like a nerd. Jack didn't care. Any warmth was welcome. He debated changing his pants, but the jeans he had worn the day before would work just as well. These were newer, less worn out, maybe it would offer a little bit more warmth.

Jack ran his fingers through his hair, hoping to make it look at least semi-tamed. He opened the top drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a small bottle of liquid foundation. It was the one thing Snyder had never had a problem buying for him. After all, he wouldn't want CPS to be called and take away his favourite punching bag.

The makeup had become a permanent fixture in his life. He was a pro at putting on enough to cover the bruises and still have it look natural. When he was finished, he put the rest of the bottle in the side pocket of his backpack, removing the empty bottle he had finished off the day before.

He pulled on his sweatshirt. He had found it in the lost and found box the previous year. It was a medium shade of grey, which was fine. He actually preferred to stay under the radar. Bright colours attracted attention. Dark clothes were always a safer option.

Jack pulled on a pair of old tennis shoes. They weren't much. The soles were almost worn through and he was on his third set of shoelaces, but they worked well enough. He took the dripping shirt he had washed and set it to hang over the mirror. He gave one last glance around the room, making sure everything of any importance was hidden away. The cellphone was slipped into his sweatshirt pocket and the threadbare blanket on his matress was folded and placed in a drawer. With a final nod, he turned away.

It was barely 6:30 when Jack crawled out the window. School didn't start for almost two hours, he had time. Climbing to the roof was difficult with his aching ribs. He hadn't gotten a beating like last night in a while and to be honest, he still wasn't exactly sure what he did. It was worth the pain when he got to the top. It was still relatively dark, but it was quiet and he was alone. He pulled out a mostly full sketchbook and a wooden pencil. He had tried to start using mechanical pencils, but they just didn't feel right in his hand. The streaks were too small and didn't have as much... character.

Next out was a pair of a large, silver and black, headphones. They were probably the most expensive thing he owned. They weren't wireless but they had a long enough chord that it worked. His phone didn't have Bluetooth anyway. The headphones were a gift from one of the older boys at the group home before they aged out. He closed his eyes and let the music wash over him before looking up and putting his pencil to the paper.

As the sun began to rise, Jack stopped sketching and looked up. The colours were magical. Every morning it gave him a small glimpse of hope. A hope that maybe things would get better. He looked down at the paper. It was a half-finished drawing of Crutchie. The younger boy was smiling in a way that always sent a spark of joy into all that saw it. Jack had just started adding the forearm crutches sitting at the boy's feet. Charlie had been so excited the day before.

Jack felt another pang in his heart. He wished he could give his brother something for his birthday, but the way things were going, he wouldn't even be able to see him. He wasn't sure if he wanted Crutchie to see him anyway. He may have been younger, but he was the only person who could read Jack. And he was always accurate.

Jack closed his eyes, tilting his head up. He just let the warmth of the sun wash over him for a moment. After a moment, he sighed, glancing at the time. 7:30. He bit his lip, looking back up at the sun. What he wouldn't give to just stay out here all day. He could just forget about school and Snyder and everything else that was always so wrong in his life. But school meant food, even if it was little more than a prison.

He slipped his sketchbook into his backpack, sticking the pencil in the mesh siding. Headphones up and music blaring, he slipped bag onto his back and climbed back down the fire escape. 

~TH~

And Jackie has a good morning. Unfortunately, the rest of the day will not go quite as well.

Please let me know what you think of this! Any tips/comments on characterization and such always welcome.

Thank you for reading <3

God bless,
Jamie