Content Warning: Depiction of Child Abuse
This chapter contains sensitive material depicting scenes of child abuse. Reader discretion is advised.
The autumn morning cast a gentle glow through the high school corridors. Students bustled around, immersed in last-minute reviews and quiet conversations. Today, the Sophomores and Juniors faced the "High School Proficiency Exams," which determined whether they would be able to graduate high school or not. While Freshmen tackled prep tests. Seniors enjoyed a carefree "Free day."
Andi stood at her locker, organizing her books for the day's exams. Her attention shifted to Tonrie, who approached his locker with an unusual demeanor. Large sunglasses concealed his eyes, hinting at hidden bruises. Andi paused, sensing the deviation from Tonrie's usual buoyant self.
Tonrie opened and moved objects in his locker, not saying a word, or even looking at his friend, well out of the norm for this charismatic teenager.
"Hey, good morning..." Andi responded, attempting to hide her concern, though Tonrie's atypical behavior was impossible to ignore. She glimpsed his eyes behind the shades, an odd hue betraying an unsettling truth. "Oh my goodness! Are you okay?" Her voice carried genuine concern, eyes reflecting worry.
"I'm fine," Tonrie replied curtly, an uncharacteristic brusqueness in his tone.
Before Andi could delve deeper, Dash joined them. "Morning, you two, ho—" Dash's words halted as he noticed Tonrie's sunglasses. "Tonrie, how bad is it?"
"I said I'm fine," Tonrie's tone carried finality.
Andi's internal alarm bells rang. Something was wrong. Swiftly, she pulled out a tube of cover-up concealer, discreetly handing it to Tonrie.
Ms. Andrews, the perceptive school counselor, observed the exchange. Known as a "Diamond in the Rough" among the faculty for her intuitive nature, she pieced together the puzzle. Addressing the trio, she commended Andi's gesture and Tonrie's attempt to conceal. "Andromeda, that was a beautiful gesture," she remarked quietly, drawing the trio's attention. She stood petite and elegantly in her vintage style, looking like she was clipped right out of a magazine from the 50's. Her gaze fixed on Tonrie, her tone shifting from compassionate to stern. "My office. Now."
"I'm fine, Ms. Andrews," Tonrie protested, but his voice betrayed the vulnerability he tried to mask.
"I was not asking, Mr. Aklas," Ms. Andrews, shifting from sternness to compassion, she added. "I have a mirror, and I'm pretty sure you've never applied concealer before to make it look natural." Turning to Andi and Dash, she added, "Thank you Andromeda and Dashel. It's proficiency day, get to class. I'll take care of Tonrie here for you. Andromeda, I'll make sure to get your things back to you."
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In Ms. Andrews' office, she led Tonrie to a chair, placing a mirror in front of him. "It's okay, Tonrie. We both know it's nothing we haven't seen before," she reassured, inviting him to confide.
Removing his sunglasses, Tonrie revealed a bruised black eye—a grim testament to the pain he endured before school.
"Oh, sweetheart," Ms. Andrews expressed heartfelt concern. She began applying Andi's concealer, a silent gesture of support. In her office, a sanctuary within the school, Ms. Andrews exhibited warmth and empathy. Her soothing words and touch offered Tonrie a brief respite from his ordeal.
"It's okay, Tonrie," Ms. Andrews comforted, her maternal assurance wrapping around him. "We've got this. Six more months until college." Attempting to change the tone and mood of the room, "Hey, you have a big Choir event coming up, don't you?"
Tonrie nodded silently, his gaze fixed on the mirror. Ms. Andrews, while distracting him with thoughts beyond the present turmoil, discreetly pulled up contact information for Child Protective Services. In that confined space, the counselor's actions spoke louder than words, affirming that Tonrie was not alone in facing the challenges that loomed beyond high school.