Light flooded through the curtains in his window.
Then he heard someone come in the room, the voice of his mother as she shook him.
"Dean, wake up, you're late for school."
Dean popped up.
"Ah Shit."
Realizing his mother was there and she doesn't particularly like it when he swears he gave a sheepish grin. "Sorry mom."
She sighed and patted his head before walking out of his room.
Dean wrestled his way into a maroon T-shirt and blue jeans to match. He shoved his feet into some old sneakers and ran out the house with his half-zipped backpack and phone in his hand, and his jacket thrown over his shoulder.
~Daniella must've woken up and got the bus~
He thought.
As he rushed to school he forgot all about the previous night until he glanced in the mirror and saw the big black and blue mark on his cheekbone.
~Well that's just fucking great, how do I explain away that one~
School had been in for half an hour now. Dean ran down the hallway to his first period class which was nearly over.
As he opened the door his arms full of all his things, his Britain-Lit teacher turned her head.
"Well good morning Mr. Carter."
"I'm sorry Mrs. Murray, I slept in, that usually doesn't happen."
"Well accidents happen, what I'm more worried about is your face, are you okay?"
Dean touched his cheek. "Oh this, yeah I'm fine, leaned to far off my bed in the middle of the night, caught the corner of my nightstand."
She nodded giving a smile as if to show she caught his humor, and he went and sat down for the remaining 10 minutes of class.
The bell rung, signaling the switch for classes.
Dean heaved his full backpack onto his shoulder. And started down the hallway.
He got quite a few glanced and whispers as he guessed they were staring at his face. Unfortunately there were some people here who knew his father was a drunk, they were calling his bluff.
He went to his second class, Anatomy and Physiology. Today they were doing an activity where they'd be joining a lab with another class.
He was in Paulhamus's class, and they'd be joining classes with Mr. Moon's class.
Dean's head popped up when he heard that. Cami was in that class. His mood brightened up when he heard that.
They went down to a big lab room, Dean had his hood up, but once he walked in he saw Camille across the room, standing against the wall and writing down on her clipboard.
He suddenly felt self conscious. He knew that the story he told obviously wouldn't make sense to Camille. It didn't even make enough sense to other people.
One thing Dean had never let on was quite how bad his father was. She knew that he drank, and she knew that he got rough with his mom sometimes.
But Dean had never told her that he put his hands on Daniella and him. Dean didn't tell her that the time he missed school in 9th grade and wouldn't FaceTime her was because his father nearly beat him to a pulp for trying to help his mother.
Dean remembered being left on the floor aching and bleeding while his mother cried over him. He remembered waking up the next morning sore and black and blue, his mother still cradling him like he was a baby. He also remembered how he knew once he was old enough, strong enough, he'd beat the dog shit out of his father. Just like he did to him back then.
Of course now though, this time around Camille knew none of that.
And now even more Dean didn't want to tell Camille, he knew he could handle his situation, he knew that because he's been dealing with it for years. He just didn't want to push her over the edge.
They crowded around the lab tables and got into groups. Dean was assigned with a few boys from his class. Camille was in a group with a few girls.
As they did the experiment one of the guys Michael asked Dean.
"Did you really "bump" your face on your nightstand or did someone trash your ass."
Dean sighed. Michael liked to ask questions and then when it got offensive play like it was a joke.
"If I said I bumped my face, then that's what happened, why are you asking me questions instead of focusing on the assignment."
Michael seemed embarrassed for a second as the other guys laughed at him, then he muttered.
"Not my fault you got a drunkard for a father who likes to beat on your mom and sister."
Dean put down his pencil.
"What did you say?"
Michael backtracked on his words.
"What are you talking about, I didn't say anything."
Dean got closer, up in his face.
"No, you definitely did, so what did you say, speak up."
Michael's irritation seemed to be growing as well.
"Listen I don't know if getting knocked around by your dad messed your fucking brain up, but you need to calm down."
Dean didn't back down.
"Don't ever open your mouth about my mother and my sister, I don't give a fuck what you say about me, but you're going to get your face punched if you talk about them, don't bring them into this, that's one quick way to make me lose my temper."
Michael just stared back at him.
"Okay?" Dean asked.
Michael nodded. The tension in the group grew thick, the boys around them snickered as Dean turned around.
"Not my fault your mother's a whore."
In a motion so swift Dean turned around and threw a punch at Michael's face. His fist connected with his nose.
"OH SHIT!"
The teachers who were so busy on the other side of the room heard the altercation and began yelling, making their way towards the other side.
"Dean and Michael!"
Michael tried to throw a punch in Dean's direction. He ended up clipping Dean's lip, a new cut forming.
Then Mr. Paulhamus and Mr. Moon were there pulling them apart. Michael's nose was bleeding. Dean glared at him as he was restrained.
As he was led out the room he passed by Camille's table. He couldn't bring himself to look at her.
Both Dean and Michael were taken down to the principal's office.
After explaining the situation. Michael was let go to visit the nurse and go back to class. Dean however had to spend the rest of the day in In-School- Suspension. Where he had to go for two more days.
At the end of the day he was finally let go. He walked through the hallway with his hood pulled over his head.
He walked with his eyes on the ground. And then a pair of feet appeared in front of him. He looked up.
Camille stood in front of him.
Dean suddenly felt embarrassed. "Oh hey Cami, I mean I'm sorry, Camille."
Camille shook her head.
"Look at the mess you got yourself into. Look at your lip, it's cut up."
Dean sighed and turned his head.
"Yeah well I wasn't just going to let him speak that way."
"What did he say?"
"Nothing, it's nothing, I just really want to go home."
He looked back down again, focusing on the floor and kicking the scrape that was beneath his foot.
Camille grabbed his arm.
"Dean, you can talk to me, that's what friends are for right?"
Dean nodded. Camille pulled him down the hallway and out the door, towards his car.
She stuck her hand out.
"Keys."
"What?"
"Give me your keys, I'm gonna take you somewhere I like to go when my head needs to be cleared."
Dean handed her the keys and climbed into the passenger seat as she started up the car.
Camille usually never drove when he used to go out with her. He always took her every where, he had no idea she knew how to drive.
They arrived at a little pond.
Camille hopped out. Dean followed after her.