flightless ━ kevin day

VII. An Unkindness of Ravens

seven                              an unkindness of ravens

𐦍༘⋆

This wasn't the usual preamble before the beginning of a semester.

As soon as Ali and the Foxes settled into the lounge room, Wymack and Abby began passing out schedules, leaving little time for introductions or complaints. Ali glanced at Kevin, the way he rubbed his palms against his thighs betraying a rising tide of nerves. Whatever shadow loomed over him, it thrummed in time with Wymack's furrowed brow, thickening the air with unspoken dread. There was a sharpness to the way he moved, the way his voice cut through the space like he was bracing for the blowback before it even landed. Whatever he was about to say wasn't going to be good, and it wasn't going to be something any of them could brush off.

The room felt suffocating, the weight of too many bodies packed onto the worn couch pressing in on Ali as she sat beside Andrew. His presence, normally heavy and unyielding, was made frantic by the haze of medication giving him a kind of manic energy that buzzed under her skin. Kevin sat beside him, the white-knuckled picture of barely-contained panic.

Wymack's voice cut through the noise like a knife. "We don't have time for petty bullshit this year. We've got a new school in our district." His eyes were on Kevin, but the words seemed to echo in the space between all of them. Then Wymack said the words that snapped everything into place: "Edgar Allan's come south."

The words landed heavily, but it wasn't the shock in Dan's protests or the disbelief and anger rising in the others that rooted Ali to her spot. It was the look on Kevin's face. His pale skin, the set of his jaw—it was like watching him unravel in real-time, every muscle in his body locked up, holding back a fear too raw for him to hide.

Andrew was watching Kevin with a kind of feral curiosity, as if he were dissecting him with his stare. Kevin, in contrast, looked like he was about to shatter. The silence between them was thick, palpable, like the space between two storm fronts about to collide.

"Hey, Kevin," Andrew said, his voice a razor edge. "Hear that? Someone really misses you."

Kevin flinched. Barely. But Ali saw it, and so did Andrew. The words hung in the air, venomous and sharp. Kevin's response was quiet, barely a whisper, but it cut through Ali's haze: "The ERC shouldn't have approved it."

"You said he would come for you," Andrew replied.

"I didn't know it would be like this," Kevin said, his voice cracking slightly.

"Liar," Andrew hissed. "You did know about this," Andrew said, leaning in, his gaze drilling into Kevin. "How long? One day, two days, three four five?"

Kevin didn't respond right away, his jaw clenched so tightly Ali could see the strain in his neck. When he finally spoke, it was as if he'd run out of options, "Coach told me when it was approved in May."

Andrew's laugh was cold, cutting through the tense air like glass. "May. Mayday. A little curious, Kevin Day. When were you going to tell me?"

"I told him not to," Wymack interjected.

"You picked Coach over me?" Andrew's voice was all venom, the words slithering out of his mouth like a serpent coiling for a strike. "Ohhhh, my. Favoritism, deception, betrayal. How familiar. After all I've done for you."

Ali felt the temperature in the room drop, the tension so thick she could almost taste it. Kevin's hands were clenched in his lap.

"Help me," Kevin whispered, his voice barely audible.