I walked into the Social Action room on Wednesday. I'd texted Brian and left him a note that I'd be staying with Tyson tonight, and I was a little anxious about how this was all going to go down.
The others were already in there, desks circled around. Tyson gestured at me to shut the door as I entered the room, and I did so before taking a seat with the rest of them. Bishopp was the only person missing, though that didn't surprise much.
"We hit Marcus Crawford's house tonight," Tyson said. "Outcast, what's your role?"
"To do what you say and not get caught," I said.
"Good, you've already got it figured out. Connor and Farren have the surveillance all settled, so our escape will be covered if something goes wrong. Connor rigged up a distraction method in case anyone wakes up and catches us. We meet at the back trail at one. We get in, run our revenge, and get out." Tyson gave his bag a light kick. "I've got what we need."
"What about his appearance?" Nyssa asked, nodding at me.
"I've got that covered too. We'll be fine," Tyson assured.
"Then there's no need for this meeting," Farren said, checking the time. "I've got homework to do and tests to study for."
"I've got to take Jonesy for a walk," Connor said, glancing at his lightly moving backpack.
"Fine, fine, we can dismiss. Twins, make sure you stretch. I don't need you cramping up during this," Tyson said.
"We're on it, boss," Talon said, saluting Tyson.
Tyson stood up. "Come on, outcast. You'll follow me back to my house."
"Lucky me," I said, standing up and following everyone out of the room. They seemed slightly on edge, but had done this enough times that they weren't overly anxious. Still, they had to know that there was always a risk of something going wrong and them getting caught.
We reached the parking lot and Tyson knocked his fist against the side of his car. "Keep this in your sights and don't get lost."
"You could just give me your address," I pointed out.
"I could. But I like to give you challenges," he said, getting in his car.
I hurried to get into my car and follow him out of the parking lot. I somehow got lucky and managed not to lose sight of Tyson's car as we drove, despite having to speed through two yellow lights and cut off an elderly driver to keep up.
Finally, Tyson pulled into a driveway. I pulled in behind him and he waited as I got out of the car, my schoolbag slung over my shoulder. I'd put a change of clothes and my toothbrush in it this morning.
"Let's go, I don't have all day," he said.
I followed him up the driveway and into the house. Tyson kicked his shoes off and started walking out of the entryway.
"Tyson Lee Strazio, you put your shoes in the closet or I'll stuff your dead body in there!"
The voice came out of another room, a woman's voice. Tyson rolled his eyes and picked both of our shoes up, tossing them lazily into the closet in the entryway.
"There, no need to commit murder," he called back, leading me into the kitchen.
A man was moving around, trying to chop up vegetables and stop something in the oven from burning at the same time. He noticed us and did a double take.
"A new friend?" he asked.
"A new classmate," Tyson corrected. "Where's mom? She didn't even have the decency to threaten murder to my face."
"She's doing some work in the living room. She's been muttering about killing you since she got home. I'm assuming you left laundry all over your floor again," he said, nearly cutting his finger. "Ah, shit. Go calm her down while I finish dinner. Is your friend staying?"
"My classmate is staying," Tyson said. "Make sure there's extra."
"Make sure you have manners," the man said.
"Please make sure there's extra," Tyson said.
"Now, was that so hard? I know it kills you to be polite," the man said. "Go on, now."
Tyson led me into the living room, where a woman surrounded by papers was typing away at a laptop. She didn't even look up as she crumpled a paper and threw it at Tyson.
"I hope that wasn't an important paper," Tyson said as it hit his chest and bounced to the floor.
"I don't care if it was. I do your laundry out of the motherly kindness of my heart and you just throw it on your filthy bedroom floor. You're on laundry duty the rest of the week, and I expect your room vacuumed and spotless by tomorrow night," she said.
"Got it. This is Nolan. He's staying the night so I can help him with an assignment," Tyson said.
His mom finally looked up. "Oh, hello. I'm Mrs. Strazio. Don't get too used to my son, because I'm going to kill him the next time he throws clean laundry on his dirty floor."
"I was in a hurry," Tyson said.
"You could've put it on your bed!" She shook her head, looking exasperated. "Honestly, you kill me sometimes, Ty."
"You keep threatening to murder me," Tyson said, raising an eyebrow.
"You know I wouldn't. But I would put you on laundry and cleaning duty for the next three years if it meant you learned some responsibility. How come you can take care of the whole community but not your bedroom?" she said.
"The mysteries of life," Tyson said. "Dad is making extra so Nolan can eat with us. We're going to go do our homework. We have a test tomorrow, so please keep it down tonight so we can sleep."
"Oh, I heard a please in there," Mrs. Strazio said, looking impressed. "Just for that, I won't make a single sound tonight."
"Until I do something that has you threatening to murder me again," Tyson said, pulling me out of the room. "Focus on your work, mom."
We went upstairs and down the hallway, into a bedroom. It was a little messy, and probably could use a vacuuming and some pick up.
"Don't go calling CPS on my mom, by the way. She'd never lay a finger on me. She just likes to threaten to kill me because I drive her crazy." Tyson kicked his door shut and shoved some clothes off of his bed onto the floor.
He loosened his tie and shrugged out of his blazer. He unbuttoned his shirt, taking it and his tie off and grabbing a light blue sweater, pulling it on. He realized I was still just standing there and gestured at me to set my stuff down.
"Change out of your uniform. Seeing Braxton uniforms outside of Braxton and volunteering makes me want to scream," he said, grabbing a pair of jeans and unbuttoning the top of his slacks. "You'll be sleeping on an air mattress. I forgot to set it up last night but I'll do it after dinner. We'll be out late so you'll probably be tired. If anyone asks, it's because you have trouble sleeping in unfamiliar places. Or just say my snoring kept you up all night. Just use a convincing lie."
He changed his pants as I dug clothes out of my bag and changed into them. I folded up my uniform and tucked it away in my bag, relieved to be back in normal, comfortable clothes.
"I'll let you borrow dark clothes for tonight. We also wear gloves and masks, just to be safe. You'll look like an idiot, but we all will." He tossed his uniform into a hamper by his closet. "I shouldn't have to say this, but don't let anything slip around my parents. As far as they're concerned, I'm an honest, hardworking young man who loves giving to his community and following the rules."
"And not saying please," I said.
"Manners fail me at home," he said.
"You seem close with your parents," I said. I should call my parents soon. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd spoken to them.
Tyson shrugged. "My mom's world revolves around her son, her husband, and her work. My dad you briefly saw...well, he put a lot of effort into our family. They're good people."
He moved towards his desk and I furrowed my brow. "Tyson."
He turned to face me. "What?"
I nodded at his face. "Your eyes. One is lighter than the other."
That grin stretched on his face, humorless and dry. "You're so slow, outcast."
But I'd never paid attention to his eyes much before. One was a pale blue, and the other was a similar shade, but it didn't quite match. I tried to look at it more closely, but Tyson turned his back to me and cleared off his desk, setting his schoolbag on it.
"Instead of gazing into my eyes lovingly, do your homework," he said. "Grades come out next week."
"Oh, shit," I groaned. "I forgot about that. Drew is going to kick my ass if my grades are too high."
"I know some people who will fix that for $20," he said.
"Wow, so helpful," I grumbled, pulling my homework out of my bag and sitting on Tyson's bed with it.
We worked in silence, Tyson turning on his fan for white noise. Braxton loaded us with homework, so there was plenty to keep us distracted.
It was a while before his mom called us down for dinner. Tyson set his work aside and led me downstairs, never turning to face me.
We sat at the table in their dining room, plates set up and food laid out. His parents were arguing about something, but Tyson ignored it in favor of filling his plate with food.
"No, that is an ugly color. You even try painting my walls with that color and I'll divorce you in a heartbeat," Mrs. Strazio said.
"It is not an ugly color," Mr. Strazio argued. "An ugly color is that shirt you wore yesterday."
Mrs. Strazio gestured to us. "You have to say things like that in front of my son and his friend?"
"Schoolmate," Tyson corrected through a mouthful of food. "And he's not wrong. That shirt was the ugliest damn color. I'd love to burn it."
"Argument settled, you have an awful taste in colors. Sit down and eat," Mr. Strazio said.
Mrs. Strazio huffed but sat down and filled her plate with food. She and her husband fell into a calmer conversation about their garden.
"Thanks for letting me stay here. And for dinner," I said, smiling politely.
"Nolan, right? Do you live around here?" Mrs. Strazio asked.
"I live with my Uncle while I attend Braxton," I said. "Brian Montanari."
"Not familiar," she said, shaking her head.
They asked me questions as we ate. They asked about my Uncle, about my transfer to Braxton, and about how I liked the town. I kept things as vague as I could, not wanting to get into detail about why I'd really come here.
When we were done, Tyson gathered our plates and left the room. He came back after a moment and gestured at me to follow him.
"We're going to finish our homework, study, and go to bed. Keep it down and don't bother us," Tyson said.
"I'm going to stand in your room banging pots and pans if you don't fix that sentence," his mom said.
"Keep it down and don't bother us, please," Tyson said.
Mrs. Strazio shot him a look. "Do not forget your manners, young man."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Tyson said, heading back upstairs to his bedroom with me following. "I still have work to finish."
"Me too," I said, looking around his room a little. I'd been so distracted by my homework that I hadn't really taken his room in before. "Hey, Tyson, you fish?"
There was a collage of pictures of him at various ages fishing with his dad. Tyson glanced over at it and shrugged.
"I hate fishing. I think it's the most boring thing out there. But the man wanted a way to bond, and apparently sitting together at the crack of dawn reeling in fish was the perfect way to do that," he said. "Shut up and don't bother me while I'm working. I need to get this all done before it gets too late or I'll lose my focus."
I shut my mouth as he turned back to his work, but kept looking around. Based on the pictures around his room, I was guessing he was closer with Farren than the other club members. He also seemed to do a lot with his parents, despite how they interacted like they were always ready to punch each other.
I forced my attention back to my work, getting lost in the problems and writings I had to do. Tyson turned an extra light on as it got darker, but neither of us spoke.
At long last, Tyson got up and stretched. "I'll set up the bed for you."
"I can help," I offered.
"I didn't ask for help. Finish your homework and keep quiet. I wasn't inviting conversation," he said, starting to leave the room.
I tried to tell myself not to judge him, to give his moods the benefit of the doubt. But my mouth had other plans for my kindness.
"You know, you can be a real prick," I said before I could stop myself. "I was trying to be nice. Your mom is right; you need manners."
His lips quirked into a grin as he stopped in his doorway. "There he is."
"What?" I said in confusion.
"You. I knew there was more to you than a nice guy with no personality. You're not a Mary Sue. You just want people to think you are." He left the room without further explanation.
I glared down at my lap, taking a deep breath. I had my own reasons for trying to be a nice person all the time. You never knew who could use some kindness.
Tyson returned a minute later and set up an air mattress. He yelled out to his parents that we were going to sleep now and shut his bedroom door, shooing me off his bed so he could lie down on it.
"I'm going to take a nap. Do what you want," he said and closed his eyes.
I sat on the air mattress, taking out my cell phone. I pulled up my messages. I clicked on one of the messages, reading it over and over, words I already knew by heart.
I'm going for a run. I'll come over when I get back. Can I borrow your hoodie tomorrow? I don't want them to say anything again.
I stared at the message for a little before finally locking my phone and setting it down. I folded my hands behind my head, staring up at Tyson's ceiling.
I was really going through with this. Maybe Tyson and his friends did it for money, but I would do it for the victims. If I could make a difference in just one person's life, that would set me at ease. It wouldn't be enough, but it'd be a start.
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A.N.- I'm literally just uploading a day early this one time just to be petty. Call out post for Mika, Rose, and Lily: GO ON AND NAME ALL THREE THINGS YOU FAKE FANS