Content Warning: generally shittiness of foster care, mentions of homelessness, therapy, poor self-worth
Tommy's second morning doesn't have smoke, so he counts that as a win.
Then again, it does have school so maybe he'd take a kitchen fire and hope he goes down with it.
Alas, that's not his luck.
"What are you thinking about?" Phil asks, pulling Tommy from his daydream.
Tommy turns to look at him.
"School... I guess," he mutters.
Phil nods.
"How are you feeling about it?"
Tommy shrugs.
"Anything I can do to support you?"
Tommy scoffs.
"I'm not a baby. I don't know you to hold my hand."
"Okay. Well I'm here if you need me" Phil says, and drops it. Tommy is grateful for that fact.
He stares out of the window for the rest of the drive. At some point Phil says something about the front office and picking up papers or a schedule or... or whatever. Tommy zones out and doesn't care.
"Have a good day," Phil says. Tommy startles, looking around and realizing that they're already here. Had it already been ten minutes?
"Tommy?" Phil asks. Phil's voice kicks Tommy into gear and he grabs his new backpack with a few of his new school supplies along with a sack lunch that Phil's put together himself, all for him.
He opens the door and is out, closing it just as Phil says goodbye.
Tommy cringes at the timing, not having intentionally slammed the door in Phil's face. Hopefully Phil didn't notice.
Except c'mon, he definitely noticed, the goodbye being split almost exactly in half with the slam of a car door. Tommy can't help feel a bit bad, Phil hasn't been anything but nice.
So far.
The other shoe will drop.
He knows it will.
It always does.
But Tommy remembers his conversation with Wilbur last night and for the first time in eight houses he wonders 'will it?'
He pushes the thought away just as he pushes open the front door to the school office.
He stumbles his way in and is greeted with bright faces and bright smiles. He stutters through his explanation of being a new student and he's directed to someone else, who directs him to someone else, who directs him to someone else.
He finally ends up in front of his counsellor who he's already forgotten the name of with a few pamphlets he knows he'll throw away the minute he has the chance, a map that's over a decade old, and his schedule. He escapes as quickly as possible reassuring her that yes he can figure his way around and no he does not need her to get a student to lead him around like a lost puppy.
He's been to bigger schools.
How bad could it be?
Very bad is the answer because apparently this school's numbering system is shit.
#610 isn't next to, across from, or even near #609 and Tommy's quickly losing hope as the final kids trickle into classes.
Tommy is one of the only people not moving, absolutely lost and looking like a loser. He twists his hands and taps his leg on the ground, wondering what he should do when out of nowhere something rams into him, almost knocking him over. The other thing doesn't have as much luck, and goes tumbling onto the ground.
YOU ARE READING
take this compass, follow it home
Fanficcredit to whoever wrote this (its anonymous) on ao3 its easier for me to read on wattpad :) Summary: Tommy's a fuck up, he can't pay attention, and never sits still. He taps his hands, pushes people away, and has never had a best friend. He's a scre...