Safe Hands

40. Unfazed

"Tough one, huh?" Jerry's breath formed a cloud of smoke in the chilly air.

Grayson shrugged as he stared at the horizon, taking a small drag from his cigarette while watching a group of students vibing to a song in the distance. "You owe me," he simply stated. The smile on Jerry's face faded, replaced by a cautious expression.

"You didn't want the money, and you won't tell me what I owe you," Jerry interjected.

Grayson clicked his teeth. "When the time comes, you'll know. And I expect you to step in. Then we'll be back to zero. Nobody owes anything."

Jerry nodded slowly. "Who taught you to fight? I mean, all this ghetto stuff, how did it get in your blood? From my findings, your father is bloody rich."

Grayson exhaled, and a rush of smoke burst out of his nostrils, "I don't know, I guess I was born like this. Survive is all I can do. Besides, I have never met my father," Grayson added, surprising Jerry, who nodded in understanding and shock.

"So, Russell's dad isn't your dad?" Jerry asked. "I thought he was."

Grayson mentally decided to end it; Jerry was not to be trusted, and he didn't want to risk it. "I'll see you around." Grayson hopped down from the bleacher, picking up his suit. Then he tossed the cigarette butt and stomped on it.

As he turned around, he was met with soft baby blue eyes fixed on him—Julian! The younger boy looked past him with shock written all over his face.

Grayson cursed himself mentally but kept walking, deciding to act nonchalant. He hadn't made it far when Julian caught up to him and stood in his path.

"Why?" Julian asked in an upset tone. "You're on nicotine? You smoke! That's bad! It is dangerous! You've gotta stop!"

Grayson rolled his eyes. "Stop freaking out! And drop it." He tried to walk past Julian, but the smaller boy stood still.

"No! If Dad finds out about this, you'll be in huge trouble, and worse if Uncle Damien ever finds out. You'll be dead!"

Grayson frowned at him. "That's if you stupidly open your mouth, and I know you're not stupid."

Julian frowned. "It kills! You'll die! You won't make it past twenty if you continue! What's wrong with you? Stop hanging out with Jerry and his jerks—they're bad influence!"

Grayson rolled his eyes with a dry chuckle. "I started this before I knew you guys existed. It helped me escape my reality, gave me strength, up here." Grayson placed an index finger on his forehead.

Julian stared in shock. "Escape from what?"

Grayson's eyes flashed with hurt for a moment as he thought of those dark times when he heard the front door slamming shut and Charlie cursing. "Just keep quiet. I'll handle it."

Julian paused, his expression going blank. "You—you do drugs?" he asked, dreading his own question.

Grayson shook his head slowly. He had never touched drugs willingly, but sometimes he was forced into it. Charlie would rarely use him as a lab rat, testing his reaction to being drugged. He hated it. When he was back to himself, he couldn't stop throwing up, and his mind would remain in a fog for half the day.

"You have to get help," Julian added worriedly.

"I don't need help," Grayson glared before brushing past Julian and walking off.

*********

The class began with Mr. Simon teaching on the whiteboard. Grayson couldn't help the drifting again. He wanted nothing to do with Mr. Simon and Math, but he needed to attend the class so he could have a clear academic record and a good standing. That was what Alex said, and even Julian seemed to side with his father. Grayson watched the birds, even sketched on the table—everything but tried to listen to old Mr. Simon.