Wednesday, August 22nd, 2012
"We should talk to him," West said to Justin as they sat in the locker room with their football team.
Scheduled at the end of the day was a pep rally for the first game on Friday. Three days of spirit and support got not just the school, but the entire town hyped up. It didn't hold a candle to the celebrations that went on during basketball season, but the excitement would spread just the same way.
"Is that a good idea?" the brunette spoke through a mouthful of apple. "What if he's like our resident bad boy, Nigel?"
The blond shrugged. "I dunno. He seemed pretty nice when we met him."
Initially, Bran Morterero wasn't Jorge's level of nice, but at least they didn't get insults flung at them.
"Nice?" Justin balked before biting into his apple again. "Nice enough to almost mow down a crowd of kids. I'd hate to see what his mean side looks like."
"That was probably an accident. Or maybe he was in a hurry."
"Didn't you say Neil looked scared? If even he was afraid, I'm not holding out any hopes on the older version."
West knew he was reaching, not sounding too sure even to himself, but if he was going to get ahead in his investigation, his "people-of-interest" needed to be sane and willing to answer questions.
Before he could reply, he caught the head football coach, Herald Rogers, trudge in with three familiar boys. A portion of the football team watched in budding stunned silence as Neil, Shaun, and Enzo were led by their portly, stern-faced instructor to his office, which was located in the corner of the lengthy, rectangular room. The ex-Wildwood trio ignored the shocked and irritated glares as they followed along.
"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," Justin muttered, vaguely annoyed.
West blinked. "Are they…?"
"No way. They haven't been at any practices over the summer or for tryouts. Coach Rogers wouldn't allow that."
Five minutes later, he was proven wrong.
The three guys walked by without Coach Rogers carrying jerseys on their shoulders. Enzo had number fifty, Shaun had seventy-five, and Neil carted fifteen. As they swaggered toward the other end of the locker room, the lightning-eyed boy caught West's eye, giving him a smug smirk and an almost-playful wink that made the blond's stomach knot up in heat and confusion.
"Fuckin'…" Justin narrowed his eyes.
As the silence began to ebb into low and harsh murmuring, Scott and Henry sauntered over to the two, expressions just as perplexed and angry as the others.
"Did you guys-"
"Yup," West answered Scott before he finished, his eyes on Neil as he slipped the jersey over his torso.
Henry turned and eyed the troublesome trio. "Is Coach really lettin' those assholes on th' team!?"
"They just came out with jerseys and shit-eating grins," Justin grumbled, chomping into the last half of his apple moodily, "so I'd say the infiltration was successful."
Scott scratched his head furiously and exclaimed, "The fuck is going on!? They're being treated like goddamn royalty!"
West lifted an eyebrow. "How so?"
During the first week of school, West discovered that he only shared one class with Neil, which was Geometry. Considered that Kaspar was a high honors student and mentioned having yet to notice any ex-Wildwood peers, the latter must've had more lower-level classes.
"You know Mrs. Mander is a stickler for eating," Scott went on. "I couldn't even bring a water bottle in without her getting all up in my ass. Last week, the fatso there had a whole bag of Tortillas, and what did Mander say? Nothin'. Nada. Not a single word!"
Henry crossed his arms as he cut in, narrowed eyes still on three guys talking amongst themselves in the corner. "That Neil prick had his phone out th' entire time durin' History. Got a call and left in th' middle of th' lecture."
"Kas is gonna implode when he hears about this," Justin sighed. "He doesn't know how lucky he is to be in the smart classes."
Neil and his friends chose that moment to exit, their jerseys on and chins high. As they passed by Coach Rogers, who had, at some point, walked out of his office to linger near the entrance, stood by looking down at his phone, Shaun faced the glaring crowd and grinned. "'Sup, team." When he made it behind the coach, he looked at him and waved the end of his right fist toward his mouth, puffing up his left cheek each time it got close.
Scott snarled and flipped him off, making the tall teen laugh.
"Alright, ladies!" Coach Rogers, oblivious to the interaction, bellowed. "Let's get this show on the road! To the main lobby!"
-
It was only a matter of minutes when the rest of the school would find out. Especially Kaspar.
The pep rally took place outside, the weather being blue skies and a bright, shining sun. As the football team stood in the middle of the sport's field, being showered with encouragement and praise, West caught Kaspar near the stands beside Finn, who was taking pictures with his captain's new camera. The redhead was staring slack-jawed at Neil, Shaun, and Enzo, who all were surrounded by other ex-Wildwood students, having their own little celebration, jumping up and down and hollering out lyrics to some rap song.
Sometime during the pep rally games, Kaspar pulled West aside, still reeling from earlier.
"What-"
"I know. I know," West cut him off. "We all just found out today."
"B-But…" Kaspar's head swiveled between their adversaries and his cousin, "they never showed up for summer practice or even tryouts, right?"
"That's what Justin was banking on, but it turns out…"
"I… I can't fucking believe this! They're… it's actually happening!"
West just sighed.
"They're actually taking over the school!"
West didn't want to believe it, but Neil's threat of taking the captaincy from him suddenly had more layers than he thought. It wasn't just about being the captain. It was about taking the "throne."
-
The basketball captain sat solemnly in the closest restroom he could find, hidden inside the farthest stall from the door, only occupied by him, his camera, and his thoughts. Of course, they were all on Neil. Why was he doing this? He couldn't have known who West was before. Did the blond do something to spurn such vitriol?
As West halfheartedly fiddled with his camera, pressing the record button and turning it on himself, the door to the restroom opened and a couple of voices floated in, already in the middle of a conversation. He froze as his ears twitched, instantly knowing who made their way in.
"I dunno, man," the one he knew to be Shaun spoke. "This place is lookin' to be a bit posher than I expected. You really think anyone's gonna get their noses white in this place?"
"For sure."
Neil. Deep and self-assured.
West quickly lifted his legs and placed his feet on the bottom of his stall door. This sounded like a private conversation, and if they found out he was listening in on it…
"They fuckin' hate us, bro. It'd be a lot more hilarious if we didn't have a job to do."
Job?
"Yeah, but not all of 'em," the lightning-eyed boy replied confidently. "There's always that little group of outliers that'll put a good time over necessity. Over loyalty. Trust me. Once they get hooked, the chase will be irresistible."
It was quiet for a moment, the only sound being the rush of the tap water followed by a few splashes. West deduced that one of them was washing his face.
"Real talk, Ni?" Shaun's voice came out a bit low as the tap was shut off.
"What?"
"I just… I don't…"
"Come on. Out with it, man," the noirette snapped gruffly.
Shaun sighed, suddenly sounding as if the world rested on his back. "I don't think I can do this kind of shit, bro. I mean, sure we didn't want to in the first place, but we all have a line and I think we just hit mine."
"Three years, Shaun. Three!" Neil growled. "That's all that's left. We won't have to stay in this shithole for a second more! Our band will take off, and we'll never have t' speak with those bastards ever again! Just roll with the punches, ya feel me?"
"And destroy other people's lives in the process? So that they'll have to go through th' same thing you did?"
The dyed-blond's tone was soft, but there was that speck of accusation that did not go unnoticed. And West wasn't the only one who caught it.
"I ain't like them, man! Don't say I ain't fuckin' like them!"
In his mind's eye, he could see his rival's face bloom red and his eyes flash in his borderline rage, ready to strike at the next affront.
"Hell, no, I'm not!" Shaun retracted fiercely. There was no fear in his voice as he agreed with his friend. "You may be a douche most of th' time, but underneath all that, there's a great guy who wouldn't put up with fucked up shit like this happening to other people! You don't wanna do this, Ni-"
"I know!" Neil roared, and West jumped, nearly yelping, as a bang on the stall door next to him rattled the aligned entrances, immediately bringing a long and tense silence. It was a minute before the irate teen spoke up, calmer but still strained with seething anger. "I fuckin' know, okay? I hate this shit! I don't think much of the assholes on this side of th' tracks, but I hate what they're makin' me do! But… but…"
"He's getting impatient?"
Neil grunted. "He won't say it, but it's obvious. I convinced him with Gia, but I'm not sure I can get us out of this. Maybe I'll just… make a trade and offer my-"
It was Shaun's turn to yell. "Fuck, no! You're not going through that again, bro! Not if I have anything to say about it!"
Silence once more. West was still, shocked, and just a little bit heartbroken. These guys sounded… trapped. As if they were in a barely lit maze with no exit.
"Besides," he continued, "you already have enough on your plate with the webcamming and shit."
"Cristo, tell it to th' whole fuckin' world, why don't ya?" Neil grumbled, back to his regular, brooding, and cold self.
The mood was lifted by Shaun's responding laughter. "Just us, motherfucker."
At that, West felt stunned and guilty. Stunned because of the webcamming part and guilty because he just realized his camera was still recording. However, he couldn't quite bring himself to turn it off.
It'll only be used as a piece to the puzzle, he told himself. Nothing else.
"So, who should we start with?" Shaun asked. "Have anybody in mind?"
"I'll figure it out."
"You think Flower Boy would want in?"
Pause. Apprehension filled West as he waited on bated breath for his rival's answer.
Neil scoffed. "Don't me make laugh."
"I mean, you never know. You always say that 'not even the brightest star is enough to hide the darkness surrounding it.' I bet Flori has some pretty fucked up secrets."
There really wasn't anything dark about West, or rather, anything that he could think of. He believed himself to be a simple teenaged guy who loved to play sports and shoot pictures. The dimmest, undisclosed thing he could think of was that he was into kink. He didn't know when it started, but he was slowly starting to see the appeal in BDSM.
"Everyone does," answered Neil, his voice beginning to sound far away. West latched on to the last thing he heard before the two made their way out of the restroom. "Come basketball season, we'll see just what that is. Let's get th' hell outta here."
-
Late at night, West looked up Untold. They had recently uploaded a new cover about three days ago.
The blond slept to Neil angrily singing Fake It by Seether.