The hallways swarmed with students as the bell rang releasing them from fifth period. David was squeezing past a group of girls who had stopped in the very middle of the stairwell to chat, when he crossed paths with a girl who reached out and caught his arm. She was shorter than him, with black and blue hair up in spiky pigtails, black lipstick, silver piercings in her ears, nose, and lips, wearing a black lace dress with a tutu like skirt, and chunky heels.

"Watch out," she said, her black rimmed eyes wide and colored with red contacts. "Crowley's in a mood."

"He's always in a mood when he sees me," David said.

"This one is different. I heard he had money on the game. A lot of money."

"But we won."

"You can bet on more than just who won, idiot."

"Shut up."

She smiled and squeezed his arm, and he returned the smile, before she let go and continued climbing the stairs. David continued down a few flights, then stopped. His next class was Crowley's. At the landing he turned back around and headed back up. It was Monday, and he hadn't planned on skipping any classes, but he just could not take Crowley right now, not in the mood he was in. So, he went up to the art department, where Mrs. Martinez was organizing the Thanksgiving festival. She always let him hang out there, feeling it was better than having him loitering on the street.

Mrs. Martinez was in her element. She was making little papier mâché pumpkins and setting them out in the cafeteria to dry, because it was the only place with enough tables and space. When the students of Ulysses High went to lunch that week, they were greeted by small wet balls of orange and green lining the wall on two tables. She wasn't at all surprised to see David that afternoon.

"You really should go to class, David," she said, in her kindly way. "But, it's just History, it'll still be there tomorrow. Grab that tray, dear, and take it to the cafeteria. And while you're there, get something to eat; look at you, you're all skin and bones."

He thought that was ironic, given how bird-like she was herself: today she wore a white flowered dress that hung off her diminutive frame to her shin, with a brown lace cardigan and black pilgrim shoes. But she was nice to him, so he said nothing.

He took up a tray of pumpkins and carried them to the cafeteria, unloaded the wet and took the dry. On his way back, he turned a blind corner and crashed right into someone coming from the other direction, knocking the tray from his hand and him to the floor with a ringing clatter.

"Son of a bitch!" Crowley yelled.

David closed his eyes, briefly, with a held breath, then let it out and stood. Fate, it seemed, had other plans for him today. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't see—"

"Of course, you didn't see," Crowley cut in loudly. "How could you see anything with those stupid bangs in your face?" Crowley looked down at himself. "You got plaster all over me!" he said.

It was, in fact, only a few spots on his suit vest and on his shoes, where some of the pumpkins broke apart.

"Are you kidding me right now?" he continued.

David glanced at him. "It's just dust. It'll brush off."

"You backtalking and glaring at me?" Crowley said, taking a threatening step forward. He had been itching for someone to take his frustration out on, and there was no one better. He gave a loud, scoffing, barking, laugh. "Are you kidding me?"

The metal tray clanging to the ground loudly, and Crowley's voice made doors open and teachers and students pop out, so that by now there was a sizeable crowd along the walls and lockers.

"I'm not doing either," David said, his voice low, even, and calm. But he looked up, and met Crowley's gaze, and that was a mistake.

"Alright," intercepted Bailey, coming forward. "It was an accident, that's all. I'm sure David—"

"I'm sure this is none of your business, Bailey," Crowley snaped. He turned beady, blazing eyes back to David. "He's supposed to me be in my class right now, and he's skipping it like the degenerate he is."

"Alright now, that's going a little too—" Bailey tried, but his attempt was feeble, and Crowley spoke over him.

"Shut up, Bailey," he barked. "You should have just left," he said to David. "Why are you still hanging around here?"

David said nothing, but his hands curled at his side, and Crowley, seeing it, gave a smirk.

"What, are you going to take a swing at me?" the man taunted. "Do it," he said, taking another step towards David, arms wide. "Go on, take your best shot!"

David didn't, just stood his ground, gaze off to the side.

"Didn't think so," Crowley said. He glanced at the crowd, some of whom were snickering with him. They, too, enjoyed this game. "You know," he said, stepping closer, "you really are a waste of space. You don't go to class, you don't have any friends, you don't belong anywhere. What are you even doing with your life? Nothing. That's what. Meanwhile, a boy like Drew Boutan, with everything in front of him, a career, and a future, is lying in a hospital room."

The crowd murmured, frowning, and nodding as they glanced at each other.

Crowley stepped closer. "It should have been you."

David looked at him.

"No one would care," Crowley said, looking down at him and speaking slowly, "mind, or even notice, if it had been you."

There was laughter from the other students, while the teachers looked awkward and averted their gazes. Crowley was a conflict they were not willing to engage in, not for David.

Crowley, turning, began to walk away, when—

"I guess that makes two to us."

A hush. Crowley slowly turned back to him "What did you say?"

Dark eyes looked up to meet his. "I said, that makes two of us."

There was a ripple of anticipation from the crowd.

Crowley gave a breathy laugh of incredulousness.

"And I wouldn't worry about Drew," David added. "His football career may be over, but he can always become a History teacher. It doesn't require brains or brawn."

A low oooo went through the crowd. Phones came out and cameras were pointed. They didn't really care who was on the bottom, they were here for the game. It was Crowley's turn now to clench his fist at his sides. He glanced at the crowd, who were now enjoying his humiliation.

He inhaled deeply, drawing himself up to his full height and thrusting his chest out. "Listen, boy—"

"No," David said. "I don't think I will." And he turned away.

Crowley's eyes widened and his teeth clenched in a snarl as he advanced on David. Arm shooting out, Crowley yanked him around and grabbed him by the front of his hoodie, twisting the fabric tighter into his fist and shaking the teenager roughly. "I've had just about enough of you, you little bastard!" Crowley yelled. "This time, I'm going to—"

A vice like hand clamped around Crowley's wrist and wrenched it. The fabric at David's neck suddenly loosened, letting his briefly cut off air return and he took a gasping breath. Crowley, meanwhile, was slammed back against the lockers, making the whole row rattle with a cacophony of metal. His breath left him in a rush, forced so completely from his body he saw stars and his vision went blurry. For one terrifying moment he couldn't draw breath, then it came back in the same rush it left, and his vision cleared.

Standing with his forearm pushed against his throat, almost cutting off his breath again, was Jason Travis.

Green eyes flashed. "Don't," Jason said, his voice low, his words deliberate, "put your hands on him again." He pushed against Crowley's throat. "Got it, Mr. Crowley?"

The man struggled for breath to answer, his face going red.

"Mr. Travis!" Pushing her way through the crowd of students, Ms. Davis stopped beside them. "Mr. Travis, let go of him this minute!"

Jason held the man's gaze for a moment, then abruptly released him, stepping back with his palms up. Crowley slumped forward immediately, sliding down the lockers to the floor, gasping for breath and clutching his throat.

"It's Major Travis," Jason said.

"Yes, it is, and you can be sure your superiors will hear about this," Ms. Davis said heatedly. "This is unacceptable behavior towards staff!"

"And what about towards students?" Jason asked. He had not taken his eyes from Crowley.

Ms. Davis looked at him, then at David. From context—and past experience—she could guess what had happened. Crowley did seem to have it out for the boy, and bless him, David didn't make it easy to ignore him.

"Let's take this into my office," Ms. Davis said. "Alright, that's it, get back to class!" she said to the crowd. "Now!"

**

"What the hell was all that about?" Ms. Davis asked, once they were in her office.

Crowley started talking at once, giving his version of events. The other two let him speak. Then Ms. Davis turned to David.

"David, what happened?"

"I told you what happened," Crowley said, loudly.

"Mr. Crowley," she said, raising her voice over his. "You may leave—for the day."

He looked like she slapped him, then he went red and huffed to his feet and strode out. But he would be back at school the next week, without so much as a slap on the wrist.

David gave his account, including his remarks. Ms. Davis sighed. "And you, Major?" she asked, looking at Jason. "What were you doing there?"

"I was defusing the situation," Jason said. His voice sounded weird, tight, and restrained, making David glance at him from the corners of his eyes.

"With violence?" Ms. Davis asked.

"You mean more violence."

She inhaled, giving a stern look.

"I'm military," Jason added. "Through violence is peace."

Ms. Davis looked disgusted. "That's your reason for being physical with a teacher?"

"Yes. He started it."

"Crowley says he was provoked," Ms. Davis said, glancing sternly now at David.

"Nothing," Jason said, "is provocation enough to put your hands on a student." He paused. "Isn't that right, Principle Davis?"

She shifted in her seat, clasping her hands on the desk. She glanced away, then back at them. "Regardless, I must make a report."

"Yeah," Jason said. "So will I."

Her lips tightened. "I think it best that you don't come back to campus for a few days."

"Fine."

"You may both go."

Jason twisted up from his seat and was the first one out, but when David came out of the office, Jason was waiting for him.

"Are you alright?" Jason asked, with a frown of concern.

David nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." David paused. "Thanks."

Jason let out a sharp sigh and put his hands on his hips. "Well," he said. "That's one way to start the week."

He smiled, but David saw he still seemed tense, and unsettled. David smiled back. "Around here, that's just a normal Monday."

"That's not funny," Jason said, giving a breathless chuckle. "Come on, I'll help you clean up the pumpkins."

Together they went back to where the pumpkins still lay scattered all over the floor and began to clear them up. David glanced at the man. Jason was trying to play it calm, but it was clear he was not. Was that because of the situation? Or was it because of...something else? David looked away. He was sure it was the former. It must be.

Still. No matter what the other man's reason, no one had ever been that angry on his behalf before. It felt...good.

Jason glanced up and saw David smile. Before he could comment on it, however, David caught his gaze and hid it, turning away so that his back was to the other man. Jason smiled, shook his head, and picked up a cracked pumpkin and put it on a tray.