Two

"If you're going, I'm going with you."

"No thanks," I said as I walked past Buddy to sit back down at my desk. There was an open seat to my right. If Devon were to come back, he'd sit there. Part of me assumed Buddy was bitter that he didn't get to sit next to me. Instead, he sat two seats in front of me. Poor Justine had to sit between us, silently enduring him constantly turning around to talk to me. It was annoying for the both of us, since he was good at math. I needed help.

He turned around to argue, but Mx. Jason told him to face the front before he could. I smirked at his glare.

From a personal standpoint, I didn't care if Devon came back to school or not. It didn't affect me in any way. But for his sake, I hoped he would. It was hard enough to survive without some form of college education. Not completing high school, or even getting a GED, would butcher him. I at least hoped he would finish his basic education in some way.

The moment the bell rang for the end of class, Buddy jumped up from his desk and stomped up to me. If Devon did come back, he'd most likely ask Mx. Jason for the two of us to swap seats. I wouldn't go for it. There was no reason for him to panic when nothing had even happened yet.

"Mel, please," he begged me. I'd seen his passionate side before, but never to a groveling level. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'll stay safe. If I need you, I'll call you."

"And when you're home."

"I'm heading to the Clubhouse afterwards."

Buddy sighed, hiding his smile. "Just call me."

"Of course," I assured. Before I could leave the classroom, Buddy pulled me back into his arms and hugged me tight.

"I love you," he said.

Patting his cheek, I smiled. "Love you too."

^^^

Devon's house was a lot closer to mine than I realized. Most likely a quarter mile away. I could drop off my bag at home on the way to the Clubhouse. But if I didn't bring my schoolwork, Brody would scold the hell out of me.

I stepped up to the light blue house. There was an air conditioner in the window, but it didn't seem to be running. There were a few rocks with faces propped up on metal sticks that were plowed into the ground. The front porch had a rocking bench next to a dead potted plant. There was a fading welcome mat that read "Doorbell Broken: Say "Ding-Dong" Really Loud." I actually considered it when I saw the doorbell really was broken.

I knocked on the door. No one answered. "Ding-dong!" I called out, knocking again.

No one answered the door, but I noticed someone peeking through the blinds. When I met their eye, they quickly hid. "I'm a classmate of Devon's," I exclaimed, hoping the person would hear me. "I'm here to give him his missing work."

The door slowly opened. A girl who had a long brunette ponytail opened the door. She hid her body behind the door, and I did my best to flash her a polite smile. "You're a friend of Devon's?"

"Classmate," I replied.

She stared at my bandaged hands. "Classmate," she whispered.

"Yeah. I got these by accident. My sister dropped a sword on my hand."

She quirked an eyebrow at me.

"You had to be there."

The girl stepped out from behind the door. She wrapped her arms around her chest tightly as she unlocked the screen door. "He's not home right now, but I can take his work."

"Sure thing," I said, as I unzipped my backpack.

"They want him to come back, don't they?" she quietly questioned.

I nodded. "They do."

"I keep telling him to go back, but he refuses."

"Do you know why?"

"Rena," a sharp voice snapped behind me. I'd heard him use that voice before, but it was different hearing it behind me. It froze my blood. I remained still, afraid to face him and see his reaction to me being on his porch in the first place. "What did I say about answering the door?"

"Not to unless I know who it is- But she yelled 'ding dong,' so I thought she was your friend."

Turning around to face Devon, I flashied a sheepish smile. He stared at me, taken aback by my presence. All malice was instantly gone, and I could have sworn I saw some delightful glimmer in his eyes. "Melanie," he spoke, his voice far gentler as he walked up to the driveway to me. "It's great to see you."

"You too. And it's just Mel," I said, to which he nodded at.

"See, I was right," Rena defended. "Though it was honestly her bloody hands that gave it away."

Devon's eyes widened as he shot his gaze to my hands. I had no issue with showing off the bandages, but with him glaring at them, I felt as though there was something to hide. But it wasn't as though I did anything wrong. It was an accident, after all.

"Mel," he drawled, his voice quiet and hard, "did you..."

"No!" I groaned. "The only thing I need these hands for is drumming."

"Is that some new euphemism I should know about?" Rena questioned nonchalantly.

"No," Devon and I stated at the same time.

He lifted my hand, inspecting the soaked bandages. The doctor said clenching my hands could cause it to bleed again, but so long as the stitches were in place, I'd be fine. "Come inside. Let me clean that for you."

"Sure thing," I said, as I followed him.

Rena stepped out of the way, and he dropped his plastic grocery bags by the door. He led me to the bathroom, but not before ruffling Rena's hair. She smiled as she ran down the hall to, assumedly, her room. He pointed to the toilet with his head and opened the mirror cabinet. I sat down, unwrapping the bandages. It would be good to get them clean. The moment Brody would see them, he'd be even more concerned than when I first texted him that it happened. You don't miss a club meeting without gaining concern from everyone.

Devon pulled out the rubbing alcohol, pouring it onto cotton balls as he wiped off the excess blood around my scars. "What happened?"

"Jeanie," I grumbled.

He jerked his eyes up to me, concern and anger consuming his face. Devon knew about my sister; I'd once complained to him about her missing a band recital the school's jazz band needed me to fill in for because of her work. He was one of the few people who knew about her job, and he knew she was caring person, so the concern didn't faze me. "Why?"

"She bought a Master Sword replica from The Legend of Zelda, and we were hanging it on the wall to show off during her next live stream, and she lost her grip on it. It fell on my knuckles and cut them up."

"It doesn't seem like the scar's too deep," he said as he wrapped them up with fresh gauze. "It shouldn't do too much heavy damage."

"You must need to keep a lot of gauze in the house if you can tell that easily."

"Why? Because I'm always getting into fights?"

"I never said it was a bad thing."

"It is. I know it is. If you don't think it is, get your priorities straight." He faced himself in the mirror and sighed as he clenched the sink counter. "It's not like I'm always trying to fight just for the sake of fighting. I don't get some sort of high from hurting another person."

"I know." I nodded and stood up. "You just have a temper. Everyone does. It just depends on how good you are at hiding it."

He shrugged. "I'm not."

"Doesn't mean you always will." I patted his back as I slipped past him to walk back into the living room. He followed me, grabbing his bags as I pulled out his missing schoolwork. "Mrs. Bustier asked me to bring this."

"English?"

"And math, history, astronomy. Everyone figured that if I was coming over, I might as well bring everything."

"Thank you." His smile was contagious, slightly crooked like his nose (most likely from healing after a fight).

There were two things that I noticed that were new about Devon this time around. His crooked smile wasn't it, nor his tall height and muscular build. It was his hair, which was now short on the sides, long on top. And pink. But it was also his eyes. I'd seen him at school, indifferent to everything around him. Never caring about anyone's feelings and only doing what he wanted to do. There was never any empathy towards others. Sure, he was kind, but it seemed more like a necessity for the sake of his work rather than a nicety. Now his eyes were sad. Sad and lonely. He must have wanted to go back to school, but if he did, he would have to face the stares. The cold front would come up once again, and he was too exhausted to go back to that. I couldn't ask him to go back to school. Even though I knew he should, he wasn't ready for it yet.

"If you finish your work, I'll bring it to the teacher."

"You're not going to ask me to come back?"

"It's your decision in the end. Do what you want with it-"

"But what do you think I should do?"

Was he pleading for an answer? Or was he just curious about what I thought?

I shrugged. "I think everyone should go to school. You can't get far without it. It doesn't matter what profession you're aiming towards. You always need at least a high school diploma or GED. I don't care which one you get, but consider one of them."

I turned around to leave his house, but he stopped me with just three words: "Thank you, Mel."

Glancing over my shoulder towards him, I nodded before walking down the porch steps and to the sidewalk.