HIDING - every scar has a story

8. Partners.

{Cary}

Cary washed and bandaged the cuts before he went to school the next morning, awkwardly pressing the tape down with one hand. Bleeding drew attention. He didn't bother changing the clothes he'd slept in, just put his jacket over everything and locked the empty house.

The north entrance of the school was paved with concrete slabs, and there was a strip of grass between the brick school wall and the wall of the rec centre beside it. This early, Cary had the north doors to himself. The sky was scraped clean, empty and blue. Light fell through the corridor and touched his jacket as he leaned against the brick and fumbled his cigarettes out.

The north doors opened and closed. Mike's biceps flexed as he cupped his hands to light his own cigarette with a tarnished lighter. He glanced at Cary and his eyebrows lifted. "Care. You look like hell."

Cary didn't bother to respond. He kept his head down and put his cigarette carefully to his lips. His face was tender and faintly shadowed with bruises, the shape and size of his father's fingertips.

"I thought you'd be kicking the dust off and gone by now," Mike said.

"Mind your fucking business," Cary growled. His hand didn't work right with the palm cut up like it was and he couldn't get his cigarette to light. "Like you know anything about family."

Mike held up his hands, open to show they were empty except the cigarette dripping ash between his fingers. "Easy there bro."

Cary fumbled the lighter and dropped it with a swear, his palm smarting and burning.

Mike stooped to pick it up off the concrete. He plucked a cigarette from his own pack and lit it, then held out one long arm to offer it to Cary. Cary stood with his fists closed looking at him, looking for the trick. Mike's eyes went over his face, and Cary snatched the cigarette and lighter back and turned away.

Mike shook his head, narrowing his eyes in the sunlight coming straight at them. "Motherfucker," he said thoughtfully.

///

In the crush of the hallway during class change, a voice registered above the din: "Cary—hey Cary!" Jon jogged up to his shoulder, wearing a grin. "Hey, how'd it go last night?"

It took a second to figure out what he wanted. The project. "Find a new partner. I'm dropping the class." Cary didn't look to see the grin fall off Jon's face.

"But... you had all the drawings. You didn't finish?"

"No."

They were in the hallway outside the smoke doors. Jon turned on him, his face wide open, all confusion and hurt.

"Cary, I don't get it. Did something happen?"

Cary clenched his fist in his pocket, so tight the cuts opened. "Fuck off." He pushed past Jon and out the doors for his smoke.

Kids like Jon didn't cross the north doors. Cary smoked in fierce puffs, hunkered against the bricks. Drafting was his best class. Dropping it meant losing a whole grade point—from barely passing to completely failing. He punched his anger down and stuffed it someplace small. He'd have to beg Mr. Ryerson for a pass on this assignment, and work his ass off on the final project. Without a partner.

There was no one he could beg for a miracle in English.

He spent lunch in the library, picking his way through 'Hatchet' word by word. For 40 minutes he was away, in the wilderness figuring out how to survive. He envied Brian, the character. Brian didn't have anyone watching.

He had to undo his stone face for Drafting. A good apology needed emotion.

"Excuse me sir, I think I made a mistake when I looked at the due date. I'm sorry to ask but could I hand the drafts in next week?" He felt his ears get hot with Mr. Ryerson and what felt like the whole class looking at him.

Mr. Ryerson pushed his reading glasses up to rest on the deep creases in his forehead and rifled through the papers on his desk. "Cary, I'm sure I have your drafts. Yes, here they are." He pulled a stack of drawings out of the pile with an amused smile. They were Jon's sketches. At the top of each sheet, Jon had written 'Jon White' and underneath 'Cary Douglas.'

Cary had trouble keeping the shock out of his face. "I forgot about those. Thank you sir." He went to his drawing table. Jon's eyes found his face and Cary frowned at him. What was his deal?

Cary's cell phone vibrated against his ribs during class. He clapped a hand over it, startled. His parents never called during school. He ducked out of class to listen to the message in the shelter of the entrance to an unused classroom.

"Ciaran, this is your father. Your mother has had the baby. A boy. Liam. They're in ICU. Don't touch anything in my office. Keep the house locked." There was a click: end of message.

Cary lowered the phone, staring at the darkened screen. He had a brother. Was he supposed to feel something about that?

The class bell rang and students rumbled into the hallway. Cary shut the phone, returned it to an inside pocket in his jacket. He saw Jon a second too late to bolt. Jon elbowed his way across the hallway and joined Cary in the concrete alcove. "Hey."

Cary looked at him under his eyebrows.

"I handed in the drawings we did on the bus."

"Why did you do that?" Cary asked.

"I was hoping you would change your mind." Jon tried a smile. "I need you for a partner."

Cary was silent.

"I thought your drafts were really good." There was a question in Jon's face as he looked at Cary.

"I don't have them." Cary looked aside from that open face. He needed to keep Jon from looking at him like that, with questions. Usually the most insulting story worked. This kid needed something different. He touched the cell phone inside his jacket and picked the closest thing to the truth he could make himself say out loud. "My mom went to the hospital last night. She had the baby."

Jon's mouth went round. "Oh wow. Was that supposed to happen?"

"No. Early. They're still there."

Jon's forehead wrinkled. "How many weeks?"

Cary shrugged.

"Bea was early. She's okay. I'm sure your brother is okay." There was a pause while Jon looked at him. "So are we still partners?"

"Looks that way."

Jon smile warmed. "Good. Thanks."

Cary frowned after him as he walked away, feeling like maybe that thanks should have gone the other direction. 

*Uh yeah, Cary you have no idea how lucky you are to have Jon for a friend...*

1134 words.