**Major content/trigger warnings in this chapter and the next— all the bad stuff that's been hinted at is fully present. So trigger warnings for drugs, suicide, and abuse.**
"Cita? Breakfast is in the kitchen."
Akicita pounded down the hall, hood flapping around his shoulders and backpack thumping against his back.
His grandmother stood in the kitchen, her grey eyes staring toward the yellowed mini-blinds covering the front window. Silvered strands in her black hair caught the slivers of light as if she were surrounded by a shimmering halo.
A tantalizing aroma stopped him as he ran past, and his fingers snagged a crispy piece of heaven.
"I gotta go, Gran," he mumbled around the salty, savory bacon.
"So early?" She frowned at him before the blinds drew her eyes again.
"I gotta see Mr. Smith before class." His fingers tightened around the orange bottle hidden in his hoodie pocket. His feet rushed him toward the door.
"Cita!" Gran chaffed her fingers together, the slender digits marred by swollen knuckles, as Akicita turned back. "Has anyone … approached you? At school? On the bus?"
"N-no. Of course not." Akicita jerked his empty hand out of his pocket and squeezed his bag's strap.
Gran's shoulders slumped as she sighed. "Ok, then. But ..." She chewed her lower lip. "Bring your bow home tonight. Right away."
"What?" Akicita's hands shook. "I have practice — there's a tournament this weekend!"
"Oh." Grey eyes met red-orange, and she sighed. "Don't let Mr. Smith give you a ride. I'll be there after practice to bring you home."
Cita's fingers returned to his pocket and clenched around the bottle. He shook it lightly and winced as it remained pathetically silent.
"Yeah, whatever. It's not like I can't ride the city bus alone — I turned 16 a month ago." Akicita turned and stomped to the door.
"Know you're loved."
The familiar, worn phrase stabbed Akicita in the back as he yanked the door open.
Squinting against the brighter light, he pulled his hood up and jammed his wireless earbuds into his ears.
"I love you, too," he said, looking down at his palm-sized media player and pressing the play icon. He slammed the door behind him and pounded up the stairs to street level, merging into the morning foot traffic.
*****
Half the fluorescent lights were off, leaving the lockers shrouded in soothing darkness. Akicita trudged down the hall, his flesh dragging at his bones. 'God, I need a nap.' His fingers drifted to the bottle as he stalled outside the door of the AP Chemistry lab. A trickle of light oozed from the crack at the doorsill.
"Well, boy? Are you coming in?"
Akicita jumped at the familiar voice. With a shaking hand, he eased the door open and entered. Reflexively, he tugged the hood lower, wincing at the brightness.
"Boy." Mr. Smith's voice was dark. "I thought I told you to stop wearing that hoodie. You look like a thug."
Akicita cringed and stabbed the stop icon on the player. He pushed the hood back to his shoulders and pulled the earbuds out with shaking fingers. His eyes watered at the renewed assault.
"S-sorry." Akicita stared at the floor.
"Look at me, boy." Mr. Smith's command forced Akicita's eyes upward.
Akicita tried to meet Mr. Smith's eyes, but his brain insisted the spot above his left ear was safer.
Mr. Smith's eyes narrowed. "You're out already? That bottle was supposed to last the week. Tell me you're at least still wearing the patch?"
Hunching over, Akicita nodded. 'As if I'd forget the patch after the first three drug screenings they ran me through.'
"That's no good. Can't have you going cold turkey at school." Hard soles echoed off the tiles, followed by the scrape of a wooden drawer. "You're lucky I plan ahead. Where's your bottle?"
Numb fingers extracted the orange bottle. Mr. Smith plucked it from Akicita's hand, funneled in several blue pills, and sealed it tight. He handed the bottle and a loose tablet back to Akicita.
"Take this now. Just one. Then get your head on straight before class starts." He turned to his phone, scrolling and swiping.
Akicita hesitated. "Gran said … she doesn't want me to catch a ride with you tonight."
"What?" Mr. Smith's head snapped up. Cold fury burned in his eyes before he smothered it under a layer of faux-paternal concern.
Akicita's face flushed, and he fidgeted with the pills in the growing silence. The loose one stuck to his damp palm.
Mr. Smith finally huffed a small laugh. "I wouldn't feel right, letting you take the city bus alone. There's dangerous people out there."
He continued after a pregnant pause. "Please, allow me the pleasure."
Akicita jerked his head in a tiny nod and slipped into the hall, clutching the bottle. He tipped the pills into his palm, doing a quick count. 'Only ten?'
Shaking, he popped three in his mouth and dry-swallowed, grimacing at the choking sensation as they caught in his throat. 'It's fine. It's all fine.'
*****
James perched on the institutional bench next to Akicita. Akicita slumped, his head hidden inside his hood and resting on the table. Neglected, their lunch congealed on plastic trays.
"So, listen," James said. "There's a LARP camp this summer at the college — role-playing at its finest! Why don't we —"
"Can't."
"Would you at least try? You make me feel like a leper, the way you're always avoiding me!"
"Look, I need to —"
"No. That's just another excuse. If you don't want to be friends anymore, just say so!"
"I can't do this." Akicita pushed up from the table, grabbing his backpack.
"That's it? You're just gonna leave? You asshole!"
Akicita's shoulders hunched as he half-ran from the cafeteria in a sudden ring of silence. As the chatter rose again behind him, he withdrew the orange bottle and shook out three tiny blue pills. 'Still fine.'
*****
"Heard you had a fight with your boyfriend." Hulking shoulders encased in a letterman jacket pretended to shield Brice's whispered conversation. The teacher, oblivious, continued to explain that Y equals M times X plus B for the fifth time.
Akicita rested face-down on the desk, his narrowed eyes hidden inside his hood.
"So, do you think he's looking for a replacement?" Brice asked. "Is he a pitcher or a catcher?"
Akicita's breath hissed through his clenched teeth.
"I bet he's a catcher … or he will be after I show him what I'm packin'!"
"Don't talk about James that way," Akicita said.
"Aw, did the lump wanna say something?"
Akicita twisted his head to glare at Brice.
"I said, don't talk about James that way." Akicita's eyes burned as lava curdled in his belly. "Actually, don't talk about James at all."
"You gonna make me?" Brice smirked.
"I think I will." Akicita shoved up from his desk, lunging at Brice.
Metal legs screeched across tiles as chairs and desks went flying. Students scrambled to get clear, shouting in encouragement and alarm.
Akicita knocked Brice to the floor, but Brice grabbed his hoodie and threw him into a desk.
"Ooof!" Akicita scrabbled to find something to strike back.
Two hard punches to his face left him reeling on the floor, and a gut punch doubled him over. The sharp coppery tang of blood filled his mouth.