Charles Alblice has always led an ordinary life in Birchtowne. He enjoyed the company of his cousin, Quinn, and their best friend, Michael. The three lived their lives as carefree as any other teenager would.
But life in Birchtowne gets messy when...
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Charles and Quinn parted ways when they got to the locker rooms. On a normal Friday, they would have walked in together, but this week, Charles's cross-country practice had been cancelled. Somehow, all three of the coaches were busy. They'd made up for today's lack of practice with yesterday's, though.
Ava and Harry both had complained to him in science that morning about how sore they were. Harry had demanded Charles to spill his secrets, but he had none to share.
Even though practice had been cancelled, Charles itched to go for a run. He shook his hands out at his sides, debating what to do. It wasn't even 2:30 yet, so his aunt and uncle wouldn't be home for another two and a half hours.
Another football player went into the locker rooms. Charles nodded. Yeah, he wanted to run. So he followed the guy in, immediately met with the noise of commotion and laughter. It wasn't an unusual sound with the football team. They sounded like they were taunting someone, but he couldn't make out exactly who it was. He figured it was a freshman. They didn't have a JV team, so everyone made varsity regardless of age or skill. It set the freshman up as prime targets.
Quinn's voice reached his ears. Charles furrowed his brows, pausing at the row of lockers to listen. Quinn usually kept quiet during the tauntings, the conversations being dominated by Everett and his two friends.
"Everett, I suggest you shut the hell up. You have no idea what you're talking about."
"And you do?" Everett laughed. It was a laugh everyone at the school knew, and most everyone despised.
A fellow senior, Everett King was about as smart as a walnut and as confident as a peacock. He had two friends in his posse, but they weren't entirely positive those two got along with Everett either. Quinn had suggested to him and Michael once that Everett's father was paying the two to be friends with Everett, and it wasn't a far-fetched idea at all.
"Michael is one of my closest friends. I know more about him than you ever could even try to know. Since he's not here to defend himself, I have to do it."
"I thought you gave up fighting," taunted Everett.
Charles clutched his hands into fists at his side. Everett needed to shut up. Quinn couldn't get into another fight.
"If it's for Michael," Quinn began, a small shake in his tone, "I'll take you."
"Aw, look at him cry!"
Charles's mouth dropped open. Everett was built like a twig, all limbs protruding at awkward angles. Quinn would beat him in every universe, with more experience than Charles wished he had.
"Stop," came Quinn's voice. It was low and threatening, but Everett ignored him.
"He's crying for his dead boyfriend! Oh, Michael! Michael, come back!"
"Everett, I'm telling you to shut up." Somehow, his voice was even lower this time. If Charles didn't know he'd be ripped to shreds the moment he tried joining the conversation, he would have stuck up for Quinn. Instead, he hung back, hoping someone else would stand beside Quinn or a coach would walk in and shut the conversation down.
