Bright Eyes

18.1. Teach Me to Fight

    "You're friends with my boy, Max, aren't you?"

    Damien nodded again.

They ate lunch at the same table in the cafeteria every weekday, walked together to school in the morning with stories and jokes to tell, did strange dance-walks along the pavements just for the stupid fun of it, and, last night, played Paranoid Android—an acclaimed sci-fi dystopian video game, definitely worth the online hype—with the rest of their friends till the small hours of that morning. (Jack stopped playing at midnight, though; said he had basketball training at six in the morning. And Lyn declined the offer to join, despite Max's persistent messaging. She just didn't do video games, she said.) Heck, Damien found it surprising that Max managed to wake up before noon to meet up with his dad.

What more evidence did anyone need to prove that all five of them had become this close knit of friends over these past two weeks?

"You've been spending a lot of time with each other lately—you, him, and your other friends. That's what I observed," said Mister Gascarth. "Walking to school together. Eating lunch together. But I'm going to ask you one thing, Damien."

    Damien already knew, yet still he asked, "What is it, Mister Gascarth?"

    The teacher heaved a quiet sigh, looked Damien in the eye. "I've heard about you from the other teachers. You've got a reputation."

    "So you don't want me to be friends with Max anymore?"

    "No, no, that's not really what I'm getting at," said Mr. Gascarth, to Damien's surprise. "You can still be friends. But all I'm asking, Damien, is that you leave Max out of your mess. Don't drag him into it, please." A pause. "Your other friends were expelled. Those who caused a lot of headaches for Mister Grisham and the other teachers, as far as I've heard." He chuckled. Damien nodded in response. "This might be your chance to start over. My boy's a good kid—"

    "He is," interjected Damien, with a small smile. "Max is a funny kid. He talks a lot, laughs a lot. He's got a big heart."

    The teacher smiled fondly at his words. "Yeah, he is. And, yes, he does. Then there's Christopher, too," he went on, referring to Sander. "A bright academic scholar from a humble background. A smart kid from a lower middle class family vying for valedictorian and a scholarship for college. The teachers like him. So it was really a surprise when you two started eating at the same lunch table." Another pause, as if he was trying to remember something—or someone. "And there's Miss Taraschi as well," said Mister Gascarth, remembering the mouthful of a surname. "All of us teachers agree: she's a quiet kid, so quiet none of us noticed her at first. Then the papers and tests started filing in, and we noticed—she's a standout, academically."

    Damien chuckled quietly to himself. Mister Gascarth talks a lot, like Max.

    "And I'm telling you, Damien," Mister Gascarth was saying, "you aren't bad yourself. Miss Taraschi and Miss McKenna do well in my class, but I'm being honest here, Damien, you actually do better than they do."

    Damien shrugged. "Math's just my thing, Mister Gascarth." Always has been.

Mr. Gascarth nodded. "The point is, it isn't too late to change for the better. And I'm not just saying this as your teacher but as a father to a teenage son as well."

Damien nodded, his eyes now fixed on his sneakers. He didn't want to show it, and he was good at hiding things like this, but there was a familiar pain in his chest, the emotional kind. "Max is lucky to have you, Mister Gascarth," he managed to say.

Mr. Gascarth sensed something wasn't right, and Damien noticed, reading the expression on his teacher's face. A father's instinct, perhaps. The teacher opened his mouth to speak, maybe to ask, maybe to say some sort of encouragement. But Damien never knew, and he would never know, because Max showed up that moment right outside the door and said, "Dad, Mom says we better hurry up. They're waiting for us in The Raven's Nest."