One More Year

Chapter 14

Sorry that this took so long to get out.... 
(But lets be honest, if you've followed any of my other stories you know that this is actually a pretty small break)
I had major writer's block over this chapter.
(That and I've been watching Tangled the Series and would die for either Euguene or Varian)

I'm still not a fan of how this chapter turned out, but sometimes you've gotta run before you walk, y'know?

Anyway... Hope you enjoy this chapter!

~TH~

Race sat in homeroom, rapidly tapping his pencil. Jack said he was going to be back today. He had honestly been scared when Jack wasn't answering anyone. All the possibilities kept running through his head. He knew Jack was in a bad home. He didn't have any proof of it, but he knew it. His gut instinct had told him that on the day they met. He hadn't been able to get Jack to really open up, but on Friday... On Friday Jack had been like a completely different person.

Spot had told him that Jack and him had had a good conversation. He wouldn't say anymore, and Race respected Jack's privacy enough to not push.

But then Monday had happened. Jack wasn't at school. He didn't go to drama, he wasn't at lunch, he wasn't even in the library. Spot had no clue where he was and even the two kids with the project had seemed worried that no one could get a hold of him.

Race didn't care what Jack said, he knew he wasn't just sick. Spot knew too and was angry. There was a serious possibility of Spot calling the cops if Jack hadn't answered when he did.

His phone vibrated.

Jack

I'm here

He responded without opening.

How are you feeling?

Jack: Better

Good

The bell rang and the teacher turned to the front of the class. Race put his phone away.

~N~

Race saw Jack slip into the theatre. He looked even more closed off than he had been before. He was wearing the hoodie that he always wore, the hood was up.

He followed Jack to the back room. The older boy kept his back turned to him.

"Hey, Race." He said in a quiet voice.

"Uh, hey, feeling better?"

"Yeah, wasn't anything too bad, just a headache and stuff."

"Yeah." Jack's movements were tense as he reached for a paint brush. He seemed to almost flinch. He began to pain the back drop, never raising the brush above his shoulders.

Race's eyes caught the small red stream coming from the back of his neck. "Jack, your neck is bleeding."

Jack froze, his hand going back and coming away red. He cursed, turning around and setting the paint brush in a cup of water and holding a probably very unsanitary rag to his neck.

"Walk into another door?" Jack's eye had darkened and there looked to be some kind of bruise across his nose.

"Forget it, okay? It's not worth it."

"Jack," He tried to keep the anger he was feeling out of his voice. He wanted to sound comforting, maybe get him to talk. "If someone's hurting you, that's not okay."