Piece by Piece

11. The Call of the Dark

Davyn came to the conclusion that pot was underwhelming. It didn't make him chill out and it stung his tongue when he brushed his teeth. As he tucked himself in bed, he hated it even more. Though drunk and stoned Mille had amused him. It was nice to see her so honest and raw. Maybe there was a half-decent person buried there after all.

At least his dreams seemed to think so as they took him back to the roof and Millie declaring she'd be in his corner no matter what. The declaration, bombastic as it was, held no value. She'd sober up and maybe not even remember what she'd said. And if she did, she'd probably be mortified and never bring it up again.

Despite his certainty that it was all smoke and mirrors, he caught himself searching the swarm of students for her the next day. It wouldn't be hard to spot her with those French braids and the paint-splattered overalls. Why didn't she wear her hair down? It looked much better, and he'd proven it.

He'd actually run his hands through her hair. She'd touched his cheek and his forehead. He'd held her hair back as she barfed. The memories made him cringe. That was way too intimate to share with the annoying girl who'd cut the chord to the sound system.

And yet... He found himself thinking about her as he closed his locker. Was she alright? Did the drugs and booze make her sick and she'd actually missed school? And why did he care anyway?

He was brought back to reality as the sound of a scuffle broke through the low chatter in the hallway. It was the end of the day and he'd once again lingered a bit too long. The crowd had thinned considerably, and the few people still milling about hurried for the exit. It left Davyb with a clear view of the end of the hall where Harkin and his goons had cornered someone.

"We've heard you've been getting lucky, Tanner," Harkin cooed.

Davyn closed the door to his locker slowly, listening intently.

"Not lucky enough, apparently," a guy said. "What do you want?"

"Our share."

"I'm sorry, but you don't run the gambling ring."

"Snitch Gravel runs everything."

Davyn couldn't keep in the hysterical laughter overwhelming him. The bully gang fell silent as they all turned to him. Their target, a blonde guy with tanned skin and a slightly haughty look stared as well.

Harkin's eyes narrowed with disgust. "I'm sorry, is something I said funny?" He couldn't come over and get physical and the frustration was obvious.

"Every time you say, Snitch Gravel, I find it highly hilarious."

"You're lucky I can't touch you."

"You're the lucky one, and I think I proved it more than once." Davyn's eyes rested on Harkin's nose which was still crooked after he'd broken it.

"Isn't this a fun twist," the other kid said with a grin. "I didn't believe the gossips were right, but apparently you have met your match."

The affirmation was rewarded with a shove into the nearest locker, but the crazy kid just laughed, as if he knew the bullies wouldn't hurt him with Davyn there. And he was right. The goons stared to their leader, but he couldn't get into another fight and they knew it.

So Davyn did the next best thing. He strolled towards the commotion and enjoyed watching them part for him. The kid's grin widened, and Davyn had to admire his nerve. Once he reached him, the goon squad moved away, grumbling.

"Don't think this is over," Harkin said between his teeth as he moved away with his tail tucked between his legs. It took only moments for them to disappear around the corner.