"Oh- Hi Nolan!" Mrs. Strazio said.
"Hi, Mrs. Strazio. Sorry to just show up like this. I brought Tyson some coffee," I said, holding up the drink.
I'd taken Tyson on a date for a drink yesterday and then we'd parted. Tyson had cancelled our Social Action meeting for today, saying he had too much work to be bothered with it right now.
"He could use it. Stupid kid of mine doesn't get enough sleep," she said, stepping aside to let me into the house. "Would you like to stay for dinner tonight?"
"No thank you, I can eat at my Uncle's house," I said.
"No, no, you can eat here. I'll make extra," she said, leading me into the kitchen. "Vinny! I'm forcing Nolan to stay for dinner. He can watch me kill my son."
"What, did your beloved son toss his clothes on the floor again?" Mr. Strazio asked.
"Yes he did, and I'm going to toss his body on the floor when I'm done with him," Mrs. Strazio said. "Nolan, please teach Tyson how to properly put clean laundry away."
"I'll try my best," I said, waving to them before heading towards Tyson's room.
I'd never noticed it before, but looking at Mr. Strazio, Tyson had none of his features. Tyson really only had his mom's eyes, from the shape to the color. But I'd never been looking for the similarities between him and his parents, so I'd never picked up on the fact that he looked nothing like Mr. Strazio.
Still, Mr. Strazio had raised Tyson. He'd stepped in when Mallory had stepped out. Tyson had never truly been without a father.
I knocked on Tyson's door. When he didn't answer, I pushed it open and peeked into his room.
Tyson was passed out on his bed, his head cushioned by a notebook. A mess of papers was surrounding him, and he was still lightly gripping a pencil in his hand. His Braxton uniform was in a heap on the ground and he was dressed only in shorts and a T-shirt.
I wanted him to get some rest, but I also knew he had work to get done and he shouldn't mess up his sleep schedule. I went over and lightly shook him.
"Hm?" Tyson sleepily looked up at me, picking his head up a bit. "Nolan?"
"I brought you coffee," I said.
He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Shit, did I fall asleep?"
"Dumb question from a smart guy," I said, holding the coffee out to him.
He took it and ran a hand through his hair. "I was...doing my homework, I think. I don't even remember." He checked the time. "Damn, last time I looked at the clock it was a lot earlier. I've been out for too long."
"Wow, it's almost like you took on far too much work and can't handle it all," I said in surprise.
"Shut up," he said. "I can handle the work I have."
"No, you can't. Not with Mallory involved. Tyson, you're not...you're not acting the same. I understand why you're not, but you can't keep pretending you're fine," I said.
"Sure I can," he said, sipping on the coffee.
"No one will blame you for having a hard time," I said, putting a hand on his back.
He leaned into my touch, just the slightest. "I'm not having a hard time. I'm just trying to balance my extreme school workload along with the workload from the club I run, all while trying to plot revenge against the man who abandoned my pregnant mother."
"Does she know he's involved?" I asked.
"Of course she does. She's not stupid. My parents see him in the news, they know when he's snooping around Braxton, and my mom's ready to go to war if he gives me any trouble in or out of school," Tyson said.
"Something tells me he'll stay far away from you," I said.
"Of course he will. He doesn't want me anywhere near him or his precious family. He doesn't want me to let it slip to his kids that they have an older brother. He doesn't want his wife to know that he was fucking another woman while they were engaged. He doesn't want the world to know he isn't some holy, family-oriented, honest man. I'm the bastard that could wreck his career and his family. He'll take me down from a safe distance," Tyson said.
"We won't let him take you down." I pressed my hand against his back. "I have a plan. It's nothing grand, and maybe it won't make an impact. But it's something, just to start some whispers."
"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow.
"It's a very basic plan. But why not have the twins' dad and officer Corr point out that as soon as the Social Action Club started advertising their community project for the police, Mallory suddenly decide to host a project for them too?" I said. "We can start slowly chipping away his image. Put some doubts in people's minds about how he just wants the spotlight. It'll make it easier to plot a bigger move against him."
Tyson nodded. "Easy enough. I'll text them about it later."
I pulled my hand away from his back and rubbed the back of my neck. "That's how it started. With Dylan, I mean. They started small, chipping away his confidence nice and slow so they could hit him harder the longer it went on."
"You're not getting back at the right bullies, but you're doing something about the overall problem now," Tyson said. He shut his notebook and stretched a little. "Did you come here just to give me coffee and encouraging speeches?"
"Your mom told me I'm staying for dinner," I said.
"Of course she did, because that woman can never just ask like a normal human," Tyson said.
"Are we calling Mallory out when we do the Alex job?" I asked.
Tyson shrugged. "I haven't decided yet. I need a big way to taunt him. Maybe leave a note that his kids are next and make him squirm."
"But you wouldn't ever go after them," I said.
He was silent for a moment. "No. They can't help who their father is. As far as I can tell, they're not bad kids."
"How old are they?" I asked.
"Simon is a sophomore. Cary is only a freshman," Tyson said. He got up and kicked his uniform off to the side of his room. "I'm going to sit at my desk while I work so I don't fall asleep. The bed's yours."
He didn't want to talk about his siblings anymore. I could tell how much it bothered him, but I wasn't going to force him to talk about something that was clearly hard for him.
I helped him move his schoolwork to his desk and sat on his bed. He got to work and I laid down, having gotten my work done before I came here. Tyson noticed my lack of anything to do, so he tossed me the remote to his TV.
I kept the volume low so Tyson could focus. I kept checking to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep again, worried about him. This much stress wasn't good for him. Especially when he was refusing to admit how hard he was struggling with everything.
It was about two hours before his parents called us down for dinner. Tyson cracked his back over the chair and got up.
"Do your parents know?" I asked, gesturing between us.
"Why do you think she forced you to stay for dinner?" he said, heading out of his room.
I followed him down to the dining room, where we took our seats. His parents set out the food and sat down with us.
"Thanks for joining us," Mrs. Strazio said to me.
"You didn't give me much of a choice," I said, laughing.
"Preaching manners at me and then forcing people to stay for dinner without even asking," Tyson said, shaking his head.
"You, hush," Mrs. Strazio said to him. "Nolan is a relief. He's polite, he smiles a lot, and he doesn't throw clean clothes on the dirty floor."
"Nolan, what do you plan to do when you graduate? Are you staying in town, or going back to your parents?" Mr. Strazio asked.
Tyson tried not to act interested, but I could see how carefully he was paying attention now. I shrugged nervously, because I hadn't really given it much thought.
"I guess...I guess I'll probably go back home," I said slowly. "I don't think my Uncle really wants me to stay any longer than I absolutely have to. And he's my only family in this town. My mom and Uncle grew up here with their parents, but their parents moved away once my mom and Uncle graduated college and moved out."
"What about college? If you're at Braxton, you must take your education seriously," Mrs. Strazio said.
Tyson rolled his eyes. "I think he just came to Braxton because he has family in this town and he wanted a different school."
"I do take education seriously! Sort of," I said. "I put in applications already. I plan to go to college, but I have to see where I get accepted before I make a decision. Besides, Tyson, Braxton isn't that bad of a school."
"We had Tyson look at a few schools, but his heart was set on Braxton. I think he just didn't want to be away from his beloved mother," Mrs. Strazio said.
"Nah, I just didn't want to wear that blue vest at Constance Academy. Or, oh god, those ugly plaid pants from Belmont High School," Tyson said, making a face. "Why do private schools have to have uniforms?"
"You look fine in anything," Mrs. Strazio said. "Except those sweatpants you wear all the time. You look like a hobo in those." She elbowed Mr. Strazio roughly. "You wear old, gross sweatpants all the time too. You're a bad influence on my boy."
"Your sweatpants are fine," Mr. Strazio assured Tyson. "Your mom is just crazy."
"I could've told you that," Tyson said. He turned to me. "Just ignore everything my mom says. She always finds something to fuss over."
I laughed a little and talked with Tyson and his parents. When we were done, we helped his parents clean up the dining room. I followed Tyson back up to his bedroom, where his began digging in his drawers.
"What are you doing?" I asked, sitting on his bed.
"Finding jeans. We're going to Connor's. I have a more elaborate plan based on your simple one," Tyson said.
"See? I'm useful," I said.
"Occasionally." He quickly changed into a pair of jeans and grabbed his car keys. "Let's go. And don't be surprised by how messy Connor's bedroom is."
We left his house after he told his parents where we were going. When we got in his car, he gave me his phone to pick a song and started driving.
I settled on a song and leaned back. "Tyson, I don't have anywhere to stay once the year ends. My Uncle won't want me there anymore." I looked away, out the window. "He didn't want me there in the first place. I know my mom begged him. She thought it would be better for me if I started over somewhere new."
"We have time to figure something out. It's not the end of the year yet," he said. "We have to survive our war with Mallory and the bullies first."
"You're right," I said, but I knew we were both just pushing off the inevitable. I'd go back to my hometown. We'd both go off to college. If our relationship wasn't strong enough, it wouldn't survive those changes.
Tyson turned the music up, loud enough to drown out our dark thoughts. We drove for a little before reaching Connor's house, Tyson parking on the side of the road and getting out of the car. I copied him and we went up to the front door, ringing the doorbell.
"Hi Tyson," a man said as he opened the door. "Connor is in his room. Hey, do me a favor and make sure he doesn't have the lights off again. He's going to wreck his eyesight even more."
"Will do, Mr. Scully," Tyson said.
We went into the house and I followed Tyson up the stairs. I nudged Tyson's shoulder to get his attention.
"Wreck his eyesight even more?" I asked.
"How oblivious are you? Connor wears contacts," Tyson said. "He doesn't like how smudged his glasses get when Jonesy breaths on them, so he switched to contacts. His eyesight is horrible."
"I don't pay attention to any of your eyes!" I grumbled.
"Clearly," Tyson said, stopping at a door and pushing it open.
He flicked on a light switch and Connor winced. He spun around in his chair and glared at us.
"Should've known it was you," he said.
Tyson pushed me into the room and shut the door. "Your dad said to make sure your lights were on so you don't go any blinder."
"Little late for that," Connor said.
He was sitting in front of several computer monitors, each with different things pulled up. Some looked like schoolwork, and some looked like video games. Connor's room was a mess, but I did notice how high-tech it was.
Connor had a hoodie on, Jonesy's back legs in the hood and his front paws over Connor's shoulder. His head was resting on Connor's shoulder as well, his big eyes watching us, his tongue poking out of his mouth.
"What do you want?" Connor asked.
"Can you hack Tiffany's mom's website? She has a discussion board, and I want a message upvoted to the top of it," Tyson said. "But I need the message to be untraceable."
"Easy enough," Connor said, already typing away, his fingers moving rapidly over his keyboard. "What message?"
"Point out that Mallory is stealing our idea," Tyson said. "And point out that last year, he did the same thing to the mayor. The mayor had that charity ball for cancer research support, and Mallory threw an even bigger one that overshadowed the mayor's efforts. I want people to connect the dots that he's just stealing ideas and the spotlight."
"Won't he trace it back to us?" Connor asked without looking away from his monitors.
"That's why we're throwing in the bit about the mayor. Even if he does trace it back to us, he can't physically trace it back to us. Not if you're any good at hacking," Tyson said.
"I'm plenty good at hacking," Connor said.
"You want Mallory to know it's you, don't you?" I said.
"Yes. I want Mallory to know it's me. I want him to go crazy trying to figure out how to prove it. I want him to sit at night knowing I'm taunting him and he can't do anything about it," Tyson said. "I've lived my whole life with a haunting truth I can't reveal, and I want him to know exactly what it feels like. It's my turn to be that uneasy shadow following him everywhere."
"Your daddy issues are your problem," Connor said. "I'm not going down for it."
"We won't. I'm not reckless, Connor. You know that," Tyson said.
"Not reckless? You run a club that constantly breaks into people's houses!" I said. "How did the club even start, anyways? Well, how did the club's 'other activities' start?"
"I started the Social Action Club," Tyson said. "And I'm a persuasive man, so I cut a deal that it would only be me and my friends, as long as we let anyone volunteer. I did make an argument that I could ban people from volunteering if they wouldn't cooperate, hence me banning Drew. It was Bishopp's first year teaching, and he was my study hall teacher. I got him to agree to be our teacher advisor for the club."
"And then we got greedy," Connor said.
"We did. The bullying was becoming a massive problem. A few kids targeted Connor and Nyssa. Talon got pissed and started talking about getting back at bullies around the school," Tyson said.
"'Pissed' is an understatement," Connor said. "Not that Nyssa can't handle herself."
"Farren and I came up with the idea one night. We were talking, just throwing around ideas about getting back at the bullies. I said it would be interesting if we had a revenge service, almost like a group of vigilantes that went after the bullies. Farren joked we should start a service to earn money and fix the problem," Tyson said. "And we did. Very slowly, very carefully, we crafted our service. We figured out how we would be contacted for jobs, how we would carry out jobs, and how we would spread the rumors to start us off. Connor went online and spread rumors about a new revenge service. We guided a few select kids to complete the riddle. We hit our first few targets, and we grew our reputation from there."
"And Bishopp?" I asked.
"I trusted him," Tyson said. "I knew his experiences at Braxton. I knew why he was teaching there. We talked a lot during study hall since most kids left to go to the library or do make-ups. So I told him what we were doing. And I told him he could either join us, or waste his time trying to turn us in. He joined us without hesitation."
"Tyson makes it sound easy. It took almost our whole freshman year to get the club established," Connor said. "It really wasn't until our sophomore year that things picked up and we actually started getting money to do the job. We put the money towards the earpieces, the gloves, and the masks. We bought everything out of town so no one would know. It was a rough start, but once we established our reputation, it got going."
"Speaking of going..." Tyson said.
"It's posted, upvoted to the very top, and probably being viewed by hundreds, if not thousands, as we speak. Mrs. Andel's website is insanely popular," Connor said, reaching up to scratch behind Jonesy's ears.
"We just got lucky enough to have the talents we needed in the club," Tyson said.
"Lucky," Connor repeated, snorting. "Does your boyfriend here know we only became friends because you were shit at using computers in elementary school?"
"I was young and dumb," Tyson said.
"You didn't know how to open any of the programs during computer time," Connor said. "You still barely know how computers work."
"Technology has never been my friend. That's why I have you and your hacking abilities," Tyson said.
"What about me?" I said. "Do I bring anything to this revenge group?"
"Some fresh ideas," Tyson said.
"Eye candy for Tyson," Connor said.
"Fair enough," I said.
"Ty, if you want to taunt Mallory, why not just invite his kids to participate in the fundraiser?" Connor said. "That would piss him off I'm sure."
"No," Tyson said, his voice firm. "Leave them out of it. Besides, I'm pretty sure Mallory convinced them that the Social Action Club is made up of bad kids."
"I mean, is he wrong?" Connor said.
"Not entirely. But our bad is far different from his bad," Tyson said.
"Connor, could you use your hacking to help us overshadow Mallory?" I asked. "When we do our volunteer project, and then he does his, would you be able to crash any sites that brag about his project?"
Connor thought about it for a moment before nodding. "I could do that. But we need to be careful. Too many cyberattacks at the man and he'll figure it out and build a case against me."
"Why? You might be one of the best Braxton hackers, but you're not the only one. I can name at least seven other kids with good computer skills and parents in the cybersecurity industry," Tyson said. "Let him build a case. If he doesn't have physical evidence, he'll just be wasting his time. Do what Nolan said."
"Wow, you date a guy and suddenly he upgrades from 'outcast' to 'Nolan'," Connor said.
"What can I say? 'Outcast' isn't the most romantic name," Tyson said.
I bumped his shoulder with mine. "I have a real name, given to me by my parents, and I like when people use it."
Connor picked up a headset and gently nudged Jonesy out of the way so he could hang it around his neck. "Can you guys get out? Your weird flirting is making me sick to watch. Besides, I want to play a few matches before I have to study."
"Connor is addicted to online gaming," Tyson informed me. "Smite, Overwatch, Dead By Daylight...anything where he has teammates and can fuck someone over, he's in."
"It's my social time," Connor said.
"Oh, sorry, the two human beings standing in your room at this very moment would hate to interrupt your social time," I said.
"Listen, I don't know how you can date Tyson. I can only take so much of him in a day before I never want to see him again for the rest of my life," Connor said.
"I'm going to go back in time and stop myself from standing up for you all those times," Tyson said. "See if you miss me when you're the next one dropping $20 for some peace of mind."
"Jonesy and I are having social time now. Goodbye," Connor said, pulling his headset on and facing one of his many monitors.
Tyson rolled his eyes and led me out of the room. He called goodbye to Connor's parents and led me out of the house.
"I'm already planning our attack against Alex. We'll strike in a few days, take a short break for the cop project, and then kick right back into action," Tyson said once we were in his car. "I want to hit Mallory hard."
"We will," I promised.
We listened to music together on the drive home, tossing ideas back and forth about how to target Alex and Mallory at the same time. We needed it to be obvious enough to Mallory who was behind it without it being obvious to anyone else.
Tyson parked in his driveway and we got out of the car. Tyson came around to lean against the side of the car as I dug my keys out of my pocket.
"We'll keep fighting these battles even after we graduate. I'll keep haunting Mallory, and you'll keep stopping bullies," he said.
"We're making an impact right here, right now," I said.
He nodded and leaned forward. I moved my head so our lips could meet. Tyson needed an open, honest relationship after what his mother had been through. I needed a slow relationship after the emotional trauma of Dylan's death. Our beat was slow and honest, and we marched along to it one kiss at a time.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Tyson," I said. The reassurance couldn't hurt when it came to him.
"Tomorrow," he agreed. "Text me in an hour to make sure I'm still awake and doing my work."
"You have two minutes to respond before I come over here and hit you with every textbook you own," I said.
He stole a quick kiss before heading towards the front door. "An hour, Nolan."
"Try not to fall asleep," I said, unlocking my car and getting in.
He was getting his control back, even if he still let his anger get in the way from time to time. Maybe it was me who was helping him, or maybe getting the truth off his chest had been enough to ease him. Whatever it was, I was glad he was starting to focus again. We had a lot of work to do before graduation, but it wasn't as daunting with the knowledge that we weren't fighting alone anymore.