The door opened up, and a smiling middle-aged couple stood in front of Ethan and his case worker.

  “Hi!” they both said, then the woman continued. “Please come in. You must be Ethan. I’m Clariss, and this is Matthew.”

  The couple stepped back to reveal a spotless entrance, with colorful and immaculately organized shoe-racks. Ethan inhaled and his brows twitched, but he didn’t frown. The home smelled odd. Like a mix of detergent and alcohol and suddenly, Ethan worried about his shoes and about the socks he was wearing.

  “Please, come in, both of you.”

  Ethan followed after the adults and went through the pleasantries quietly, nodding on occasion while the couple and Paul confirmed a few details. At some point, the woman called out for a ‘Marvin’, and a young red-headed kid came along. He must have been around thirteen or fourteen, and he wore a few well-worn but clean jeans and t-shirt.

  “Marvin,” Clariss said, “would you show Ethan here to his bed? He’ll share a room with Ed.”

  Marvin’s smile flickered for a fraction of a second, then he nodded. “Yes ma’am. Is he back?”

  Clariss, having turned her attention back to Ethan’s counselor, slowly turned back to look at Marvin who seemed to shrink right in front of her. She smiled, but her eyes did not lose any of their sharpness and Ethan knew he was going to have to watch himself around her. “Ed? No. But he’ll be back with us in a week. Now, go on.”

  Ethan followed Marvin, carefully maneuvering his duffel-bag so it wouldn’t knock down any of the decorative elements in his way. Pots, books, lanterns here and there. The group home was… unnerving. It was definitely homey and warm, but everything was spotless. Everything smelled of chemicals. It was just too clinical.

  A few twists and turns later, the boy stopped in front of a simple wooden door, with two name slots neatly nested at eye level. One was empty, and the upper one had a name in it, hand-written on a cut piece of paper.

  Edwin Davis

  Marvin gently rapped on the varnished wooden door. Once. Twice. Then after there was no response on the third knock, he twisted the round handle and looked up at Ethan with a smile. “This is your room.”

  Isn’t this Ed not supposed to be here? Why did he knock?

  Ethan shelved the question and looked past the guide into a neat and tidy room. There were two beds, each on one side, with a draped window and matching rug in between. He glanced down at his guide and at the wide-eyed look Marvin was giving the room.

  Weird.

  Ethan stepped in, looking around, and when he glanced back, he found the kid still standing behind the entrance.

  “Which bed is mine?”

  The kid jumped, then a glassy smile spread on his face. “That one,” he said, pointing to the right one. “You can put your stuff there and there, in the lower two compartments,” he added, pointing to a couple of hidden drawers under the bed and to the dresser under the window. He was still unwilling to step in. Marvin looked down the corridor in both directions for a second, then looked back at Ethan. “You should keep the room clean, okay? Them’s the rules.”

  “What happens if you break the rules?”

  The kid’s face slacked for a second, then his brows knitted. “Don’t break them, alright? It’s better for everyone.”

  And with that, the boy turned and left, and after a few muffled steps, a door clicked open then shut. Ethan stared after him for a second, and felt a cold sensation trail down his back.

  What was that about?

  ***

  “Fisher, come give me a hand with something once you’re done,” said the gym teacher before he turned and walked toward the end of the gymnasium.

  Help him with what?

  Ethan blinked, then sighed and continued sweeping the mat. He didn’t mind giving a hand and frankly, the last few weeks have been amazing in school. After the small debacle with the two bullies, no one had tried to start anything with him. Of course, the whispers and chatter had not stopped, hell, they might have gotten worse, but Ethan didn’t care.

  He had this. Sports. Wrestling.

  It was fun. It pushed away the fog that generally hovered in his mind without making him all tired and woozy. Unlike the meds he’d been prescribed at first. He was even sleeping better. He’d still frequently wake up in cold sweat, thinking he was back in that kitchen with a knife in his hand, but unless he was mistaken, it was happening less often.

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  Of course, he didn’t have gym-class everyday, but the odd and foul-mouthed teacher—Luther—managed to talk the principal into getting an assistant that knew enough about wrestling, and he’d gotten them space to practice.

  “Go ahead, Ethan, I’ll finish up,” said Jonathan.

  Ethan thanked him and picked up his bag. There were just five of them in this club so far, but it was nice to talk to other people who didn’t tiptoe or act weird around him. His fellow wrestlers didn’t talk about much aside from the spars, to be fair, but it was a nice change of pace.

  I should look into some other clubs. Maybe chess or something.

  Ethan found Luther dragging a few bags full of all sorts of balls out of storage. The coach was an old man. Forty or so. Cranky. He was well-spoken when he was teaching a full-class, but when he was just with the wrestling club, the crankiness turned all the way up, and so did his vocabulary.

  All of them in the wrestling club found it funny, so no one said anything, but Ethan couldn’t help but feel intrigued by the man.

  Luther dropped the bag and grimaced, putting his hands on the small of his back as he turned to Ethan.

  “Look, Ethan. You’re good. You got that grit in you. It’s a lot of fun to watch your spars and even though you haven’t started as early as some other kids, this could take you far. I talked to some friends and we might be able to organize something between high-schools. Maybe you could even get a spot in one of them. Bigger teams. Better coaches and all that. What do you say? Want me to put out the word for you?”

  Ethan hadn’t expected that, but the words still lit up a small fire in his chest. Hope. “You think I could get a scholarship?”

  That would be amazing. That would be his way to a better life. Away from this city. From the people who knew what had happened. A new start.

  Luther stared at him for a moment, surprised. “What? No! What do you think this is? You think scholarships get handed out that easy? Kid trains train since middle-school and they don’t get into those fancy sport programs. No no, this is just good for you. It’s a good use of your time, I meant. Shit it might allow you to get a scholarship, but that’d be a nice bonus and anyway, there are other ways to go to college aside from scholarships.”

  “Oh.”

  The flame died out in Ethan’s chest.

  The coach winced and rubbed the back of his close-shaved head. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to—look. I’m saying this because… you know. You got history in this school. Sometimes it’s not easy to move on from stuff if you have to keep seeing it and be reminded of it every single damn day. A new start, that’s what I’m talking about. A change of scenery. And practice. Sports. It’d be good for you, kid. When you’re busy and too tired after a long day in school, you’re less likely to get yourself in trouble. Know what I’m talking about?”

  Ethan tightened his jaw. “I wasn’t the one who started anything.”

  Luther raised both arms. “I didn’t say that you did. Look, I’m not giving you shit. You got enough on your plate. I’m just saying that spending all that stress and anger in here,” he said, gesturing to the mat, “is way better than doing it out there. You know, it’s like a balloon. If you keep blowing air into it, it’ll blow up. But if you come here a few times every week and let some of that pressure out, safely, then you’ll find it a lot easier to manage. And if you do that in a new spot that’s better equipped than our shitty little mats, then that’d be better for you. You just gotta do well in the next inter-high tournament. Win a game or two, and we’ll get it done. If you’re interested. It’s just a suggestion. And what do I know of stress management, it’s not as if I studied any of this shit. Oh wait. I did,” he said, giving Ethan an even stare.

  Ethan couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his lips.

  Luther grinned and picked up the bag of tennis balls. “Oh you think that’s funny? Ha. Ha,” he shook his head and picked up another ball then nodded toward the exit. “Alright, get out of here. I got shit to do. See you tomorrow.”

  Wasn’t he supposed to help him? Ethan shrugged, then said goodbye and left, a smile on his lips.

  What a weird man.

  ***

  Ethan removed his shoes at the door. He put on the plastic-sock thingies, tip-toed toward the restroom then sat over the edge of the bath. He washed his feet, threw out the plastic socks in the bin set aside for them. He dried his feet, put in his slippers, then shuffled his way to the living room where he ‘checked in’ with Clariss and Martin, then he could finally go to his room.

  Ethan chafed a bit at the rules and regulation, but it was a small price to pay for a roof over his head. He ate well, slept well, and had clothes and shoes in his size. None were brand new, but that was fine. He had a dry room he wasn’t cold in, and he had more than two pairs of socks. None of which stank.

  Ethan turned the door handle. This was a good deal. He was enjoying school, mostly, and he had a safe place to sleep. He could wait out the two years until he turned 18 and then—

  There was someone.

  The bed that had been empty the last eight days was occupied. A young man was sitting on it, reading. A small book was in his hand. With a slightly loose cover jacket. He didn’t look up, and Ethan, for once, wasn’t sure how to proceed. Then again, this was his room, so he said hello and walked in while Edwin—he assumed—turned another page and said nothing.

  Works for me.

  Ethan put his backpack at the foot of his bed, stood over his bed, and frowned.

  Didn’t he leave some folded clothes on here?

  “You’re Ethan, right? I see you made yourself at home in my absence.”

  Ethan turned to find the teenager standing at the foot of his own bed. He had his arms behind his back, and was staring at Ethan. His brown hair was loosely brushed back, and even though his expression seemed welcoming, Ethan quickly noticed his smile was as fake as Clariss’s had been and this time, not because it wasn’t reaching his eyes.

  No, what was unnerving was how genuine his expression seemed. All of it, aside from the unblinking, cold blue eyes that were trained on Ethan.

  “Was I supposed to wait for you before I made myself comfortable?”

  Edwin tilted his head a fraction, then spoke. “Welcome in. And I hope we get along,” he said before turning and sitting back down on his bed, seemingly uncaring of Ethan’s response or reaction.

  He opened his book once more, so Ethan turned away and for the first time in a while, he felt that he shouldn’t show his back to this guy. And he wished he’d gotten any other room with anybody else.

  Something tightened in Ethan’s guts, but he took a deep breath.

  Two years and a half. Then I’m out.

  “Oh and do me a favor. Next time, knock before you open the door,” Ed said, without looking up.

  Yeah. We’ll get along, alright.

  Click here to join

  If you want to support me and read ahead, there's 10 advanced chapters.