Chapter 34. Liam
The next day, after the tournament and the hotel and the pizza and the long drive back, Aspire is right where we left it.
Unfortunately, it didn't disappear.
We file out of the van and, after a brief, awkward group shuffle in the lobby where nobody is quite ready to be back, we go to lunch.
It's all the same.
Fuck, I had hopes that Aspire only lived in my imagination, but it's real. I force myself to stop complaining, though, remembering how bad the guys from the other academies have it.
But something is off.
And it's Miles.
He sits two chairs down from me at our usual table with Jack and Ethan. Harry has started joining us lately too, and sometimes even Tyler.
Miles peels the crust from his sandwich, same as always.
But he's humming.
He doesn't seem aware of it, but I notice immediately because it's so fucking weird for him.
Jack notices too, but in his own Jack way.
"Miles, you got a tune stuck in your head?" he asks, biting into his apple.
Miles blinks.
The humming stops.
He looks at Jack, then at his sandwich, then at me, and after a slight delay, says, "It's Bach's Cello Suite No. 1."
"Classy," Jack says, and I'm pretty sure he, just like me, has no fucking clue what Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 is.
I watch Miles.
He's sitting up straight, and he seems to be in an awfully good mood.
Then, out of nowhere, he smiles.
What the fuck is going on?
The rest of the day is a normal day.
Quiet Time, where we tell Harry everything that happened while we were away.
"He actually got us Chinese food," Jack says.
"Who fucking cares?" Harry says, because he's an annoying prick.
Our annoying prick, unfortunately, so we have to put up with him.
Then snack time. Exercise time. Yes, MMA again.
I'm so sick of MMA that I ask Griff if I can sit this one out, and he actually lets me. He must be feeling very sorry for me, which is convenient because I'm also feeling very sorry for myself.
Then showers, dinner, and during rec time, I stay with Ethan on his bed.
Just cuddling.
The following morning, there's art class with Vikki, which is everyone's favorite even if no one will admit it.
She's the only teacher here who treats us like we're people.
Today she's got a still life set up at the front of the room: a plastic skull, a glass bottle, a fake potted plant, and a rubber duck, because "real artists must be prepared to draw any fucking thing that enters their field of vision."
Her words, not mine.
We draw, but she says we can paint, collage, sculpt, whatever we want, as long as we hand her some kind of art by the end.
The room is quiet. The other classes have trained us well to stay that way unless we want to be punished, and we usually don't.
Miles is weird again.
He's doing things with enthusiasm.
Usually, the only enthusiasm Miles has is for biology. Today he's working with charcoal, which is new, and his hands are black up to the wrists because he refuses to use the blending stumps and smudges everything with his fingers instead.
He doesn't seem to care about the mess.
Maybe he even likes it.
That would also be a first, because he's the least messy person I know.
When the bell sounds, everyone shuffles out except for Miles, who lingers at his station, cleaning his space. He puts every pencil back in its slot, wipes the charcoal dust from the table, even straightens the rubber duck in the still life.
I wait in the hallway because I want to see what he'll do next.
What he does next is ask Vikki if she needs help cleaning up.
Vikki's face does a thing.
I know that face.
She has a little mischievous smile on her lips.
I've made that face plenty of times.
I hurry away before Miles can see me watching.
My heart is thundering in my chest, and I don't even know if I'm imagining things.
Later, it's rec time, the time I usually spend with Ethan.
The best time of the day.
We're on his bed. He's reading, and I'm simply existing, holding him, feeling him breathe. It's one of the rare occasions when I can actually stay put.
Then I remember.
"Miles has been weird lately," I whisper.
Ethan doesn't look up. "How so?"
"He's humming at meals. And he smiled at me today."
"Maybe he's just in a good mood, baby," he says, still very interested in his book.
"He's never in a good mood. That's his whole thing. Being broody and mysterious."
Ethan closes his book and chuckles. "People change."
I scoff. "Not here they don't."
He looks at me, eyes steady.
"You did."
I feel my cheeks heating up, but I don't show it.
"I think it has something to do with Vikki."
Ethan frowns.
He's still traumatized by our last art teacher.
I tell him about what I saw when Miles offered to help her.
"I'll keep an eye out," he says.
I nod.
I don't want Miles to get in trouble.
But there's definitely something going on.
The first fight after the tournament starts over a basketball.
During snack time, the court is already a battlefield. Half the guys want to play full-court; half just want to shoot around.
I don't play, obviously.
I prefer to stay sitting next to Ethan, my head on his shoulder, and if it were allowed, I'd definitely lie across his lap and nap.
Jack is also beside us, eating his sandwich and talking about Call of Duty, his favorite video game.
"I think they could definitely spare some cash and buy us an Xbox. But people would probably break it in two minutes, so they're probably right not to," he says, thinking aloud.
Tyler is playing basketball.
He's very good, and much more extroverted than Ethan. He has more friends than I managed to rack up in a year and a half.
And, of course, Reed is there too, talking shit louder than everybody else with that aggressive smirk he has, calling people names and shoulder-checking them with much more force than necessary.
The breaking point is a missed shot.
Tyler rebounds and tries to pass out, but Reed rips the ball from his hands hard enough that Tyler stumbles and lands on his ass.
It's not a big deal. The court is concrete, but we've all taken worse falls.
Reed stands over him and says something under his breath.
I don't catch it. Tyler's face changes instantly.
He gets up, dusts off his palms, and squares up to Reed, eyes locked, jaw set.
There's a pause. Then Tyler shoves Reed.
Not hard, but not gentle either. Reed shoves back. Suddenly, everyone's moving.
A crowd forms, and the entire game stops as the two of them go chest to chest, arms raised. Ethan is already on his feet beside me, ready to go. The guards get there first, jogging over and shouting at them to knock it off.
Tyler and Reed ignore them. They're breathing hard, faces inches apart, and the whole world seems to have narrowed to the space between them. Montez tries again, this time louder. That's enough to make Reed step back, hands raised in mock surrender, the same smile still on his face.
Tyler doesn't move. For a second, I think he's going to take a swing anyway. Then the moment passes. Everyone starts talking at once, but they also get as far away from the guards as possible. Nobody wants detention.
Tyler gets the standard lecture about "respecting boundaries," "teamwork," and "appropriate emotional outlets."
He nods, says, "Yes, sir," and heads toward the water fountain.
Ethan goes after him. I follow, obviously.
"You okay?" I ask.
Tyler shrugs. "He's an asshole."
"What the fuck was that, Tyler?" Ethan starts, and I already know where this is going.
A long scolding.
Much worse than the guards'.
"Shut up," Tyler tells him, still pissed, and bumps shoulders with him as he walks away.
Ethan could stop him. He doesn't. That would only make things worse. Instead, he looks at me, rolls his eyes, and shakes his head. I put my hand on his shoulder.
Later, after MMA, Griff wants to see both Tyler and Ethan in his office.
Fuck.
I sit outside the door and wait.
I'm not sure if Griff will be mad at me for being there, or if Ethan and Tyler will, but it's too late. I'm already here. When they finally come out, Tyler looks furious. Ethan's face is harder to read, but his jaw is set. He doesn't say anything until we're back in our dorm with the door closed.
"He said if there's one more incident, Tyler's getting three days in the hole," Ethan says, voice low. "For now, he's got a week's detention. No free time and hard labor."
"Fuck that," I say. "It wasn't even a fight."
Ethan sits on his bed, elbows on his knees.
"Doesn't matter. Griff said it's not about the fight. It's about the pattern. And since I'm his leader, it's on me too."
I stare at him.
"Did you get punished?"
He nods. "Three hundred lines."
"Ew. That's ridiculous."
He scoffs, but there's no humor in it. "Yeah."
"What's the line?"
"'I will fulfill my duties as a leader with diligence.'"
"God, that is ridiculous. Griff just wants to spite you."
"It's a pointless task. That's the point."
I'm angry that Griff would do that. We sit there in silence.
"It's okay, sweetheart," Ethan says, reading my expression. He grabs me by the arm and pulls me closer.
"I should be the one telling you that," I say, but I go to him easily. "It's not fair that you're punished because of other people."
"Now you see why I was so hard on you when you first got here," he says with a quiet chuckle. "But you're a good boy, and Tyler is… Tyler."
I snort. He kisses my forehead.
"Come on."
I look at him, confused.
"We haven't showered yet, and we're pretty smelly."
"We are."
"Let's go. Together."
So we do.
The staff bathroom has become our sanctuary lately.
We squeeze into the same shower stall even though there isn't really room for both of us. Ethan pulls me close beneath the hot water, and I wrap my arms around him, pressing my face against his chest.
For once, neither of us needs anything more complicated than that.
He washes my hair.
I wash his.
He kisses me under the water, slow and warm, and by the time we finally leave, the anger has mostly drained out of me.