The Good-For-Nothing Society | Completed

Chapter Sixteen

Elijah stalks from the room, through our class and out of the building. He marches down the hill and back to the main body of the school. Steam may as well be rolling off of him for how angry he is; his fists are jammed into his pockets, his shoulders hunched. He doesn't even acknowledge me, just keeps on steaming ahead. I follow him anyway, I don't trust the look in his eyes. He keeps walking until we get to the hockey field where we first began training together, then he spins to face me and I'm surprised to see his face is blistering.

"Hit me," He growls.

I reel back from him, "I'm not going to hit you."

He looks me once over, nods and then stalks off again, heading towards the white pavilion that sits at the top of the field. I trail behind him, only three paces away. I don't know if he's going there to calm down or smash it up, and I fear I might have to stop him doing something reckless. When we get to the glass door, he slides it open effortlessly and steps inside.

The floor creaks beneath me, I look around, expecting it to be so much more, but the room is large and bare. There is one singular punching bag and a broken bench. It's an old rickety building, holes in the wood, the windows dusty. I get the feeling only Elijah comes here. He heads to the punching bag filled with sand, and I feel satisfied he isn't, in fact, going to start tearing wood panels from the wall.

I sit on the bench as he goes to town. He methodically lands blow, after blow, after blow. His fists are precise and steady. It isn't long until sweat starts to bead down the sides of his head and he grunts with the effort each hit is costing him. I don't interrupt, I just sit there with my knees pressed together, hands grasped in my lap, letting him work off this steam.

An entire hour passes before he starts to waiver. This alone explains why he's got the muscles he has. Finally, he throws himself down on the bench next to me, panting, his breathing heavy from the extortion.

"Feel better?" I ask him.

"No," He wipes at his brow, "They're going to get you killed."

I shrug, "Maybe that's the plan. Be a lot easier if I were dead too, wouldn't it? But for what it's worth, I don't think these people want to kill me."

"Oh, yeah?" Elijah chuckles, though he's not amused. "Sure of that, are you?"

"Yeah." I nod, "They didn't kill me after dad died, nor in the lead up to me coming to the school. They only shot out once when I was with mum. They've had ample chances, and yet I'm still here. Whatever they want, it's not for me to die."

"Not yet anyway," Elijah grunts. He looks at me, "You think they want something from you?"

"Something they need me alive for."

"The necklace," Elijah says.

"No, they don't need me alive for that."

"So, you think they're going to try and grab you?"

"I'm pretty sure." I say, "You really think this guy appears from no where, shoots my mum, vanishes, and then suddenly they get intel on his whereabouts? Sounds like a trap to me."

"You think you've figured it out more then Miss Gateshead and Stan?"

"I think Miss Gateshead and Stan see me as collateral, and they're willing to risk me getting taken for the safety of the rest of the students."

"Well, then what do you want me to do?"

"Something I don't think you'll want to do." I mutter.  Then I ask him something I would hate him for, if he were to ask me. "I want you to let them take me, if it comes down to it."