BEFORE
Adam watched guiltily as Matt pressed the cool ice-pack over the small gash on his lip. He let out a soft whimper, wincing in pain, and Adam cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. Matt raised an eyebrow up at him.
"This isn't your fault," he replied shortly.
"I know – um, I mean I know James did it but—" Adam cleared his throat again. "If I hadn't stopped talking to him then he wouldn't have hurt you."
"I'm not hurt," Matt said just seconds before he put the ice-pack back on his lip and let out another shriek. "You're right though," he nodded. "You should've just hung around him more. Safer for both of us."
Adam did not respond but sat silently beside Matt in the nurse's office. It was only when they were walking home together hours later that he decided to bring it up again.
"I don't like hanging out with James anymore," he mumbled as he swung his school bag up and down. "I want to hang out with you."
Matt who, as per usual, had his nose buried under another book looked up in surprise.
"Why?" he asked.
Adam shrugged. "I don't know," he lied as he gave some gravel on the ground a good kick. The truth was, he liked Matt's company alot – he couldn't admit that to Matt even though he was sure it was obvious to him anyway. Matt wasn't like James. He didn't always want to hurt or kick something when he was bored. He read books and spoke fluent French. How many kids did Adam know that could speak French? And Matt always listened to Adam when he told him stuff – private stuff that he'd never, ever tell James because he never took anything seriously. And Matt never made fun of him. He was nice – and safe. Matt made Adam feel safe.
"Well," Matt said, "if that's what you want then we might as well be friends then."
"Weren't we always friends?" Adam inquired.
"Well yeah." Matt nodded. "But you know. Not secret friends that only talk to each other at lunch times. Like real friends. You can come over to my house this Saturday if you want too, actually."
Adam stopped walking, his blue eyes wide and happy. "Really?" he breathed in disbelief.
Matt rolled his eyes. "But we're not playing football or whatever you and James got up to—"
"Actually we just threw rocks at some cats until we got bored."
"You both have serious issues," Matt said, shaking his head.
"They were only small rocks and it was always James' idea." Adam grinned. "One time I hit this cat and it attacked me. Got a big scar that never went away." He rolled up the sleeve of his left hand and flipped his arm around. And lo and behold there it was. A jagged brown line that stretched for what Matt estimated was at least eight centimetres.
"That looks grotesque," Matt gasped as he peered at Adam's arm closely, but that only made the other boy laugh hard.
"Grow what?"
"It means it looks revolting," Matt replied. Adam raised an eyebrow.
"Normal English, please."
"That is normal English."
"Alright, fancy pants," Adam laughed again and he clapped Matt's back playfully. "I meant English that I can actually comprehend." He looked at Matt hesitantly. "Is that how you say it?"
Matt nodded, his lips twitching into a small smile. He found that he could smile a lot more around Adam Fernandes than anyone else.
"You'll be getting ten out of ten on our vocabulary tests soon," he said encouragingly as they made their way around the bend of a quiet little street.
"Doubt it," Adam mumbled. "I've always been so rubbish at Englishy stuff."
Matt wanted to point out that the word 'Englishy' didn't exist but held his sharp tongue for once, deciding that in doing so he would not be helping the situation – or be a good friend. Friend. He'd had trouble making friends at Oxford. No one seemed to like him, and vice versa. But Adam was his friend now and although it would've sounded like a terrible idea two months ago – Matt looked at Adam now, fondly – Well, the bad ideas always end up being the best choices.
Matt knocked his shoulder against Adam's.
"Hey," he said sincerely. "You'll be alright."
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