“We’re not mentioning…”
“That bitches.” Cassidy said,
“…Name.” I finished; Cody sighed.
“You missed band.” Cody whispered, I opened my eyes, then I narrowed them. “He couldn’t give a fuck; he worships the ground you walk on Kennedy.” He said amused, I almost smiled.
“Do you have any weed left?” Theo asked, I turned my head to look at Cassidy as he nodded slowly, tapping his fingers against his lunchbox.
“Don’t use too much.” Cassidy said softly. “Weed doesn’t grow on trees.” He added, I began to laugh. Covering my mouth as my laugh became wheezy. Cody sat beside me, shaking his head as he also laughed.
“That’s literally where it grows baby.” Theo whispered as he sat between us, the paper between his fingers and thumbs. He sprinkled practically a pinch into the paper before rolling it. Licking the edges to close it. He took the lighter out of Cassidy’s lunchbox. Smiling as he looked at it, it was a zippo lighter, gold with Queen engraved into the body, a crown above the words.
He lit the cigarette, inhaling some, then holding it across me to Cody.
“You’ve had enough.” Theo condemned. I pulled my tongue back at him. “Mature.” He teased, I grinned.
“You’ll have to talk about it sometime.” Cody muttered; I shook my head.
“That isn’t today.” I said, turning my head to look at him, he leant his head back on the tree too, looking at me so I sighed. “I will face it, sometime, but not today.”
“Fair.” He whispered then leant his forehead against mine, sighing deeply.
“If you want…” Theo said tapping my knee, I turned to look at him, “I’ll shag you.” He said, I laughed.
“I appreciate it, truly.” I said then tapped his cheek, “but no.”
“I tried.” Theo said to Cody. Cody shrugged.
“Maybe next time.” Cody said sympathetically before taking the cigarette back.
♕
Chapter Two
I, loitered around the football cage.
It was out of the way, a few picnic benches scattered around the cage, and some wooden benches that seemed to be used during training sessions, although I wasn’t entirely sure.
It was quiet, and mostly, people didn’t congregate around the football cage, as it was unseemly to even acknowledge the football team’s existence in our school, so, I sat, ignoring the rest of the school, allowing myself to be invisible for as long as I needed it.
Today, there was a boy in the football cage. He hadn’t seemed to notice me as he ran around in a tank top and a pair of shorts, kicking the ball into the goal over and over, making the cage rattle violently regardless whether the ball went in or not.
I watched him.
He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back and taking a deep breath. His hair stuck up briefly before falling back and then, his foot collided with the ball. I heard the deep thud as his trainer hit the rubber of the ball, and then the entire cage rattled. I watched it shake, before he turned to me.
“If you’re going to watch. You might as well come play.” He said, I almost choked. “Well…” he shrugged and I thought about it. I really thought about it.
Somehow, I stood.
I walked towards the football cage then met his eyes as he scoffed.
“Kennedy Bradford.” He said, “I didn’t think you even knew this part of the school existed.”
I rose an eyebrow at him.
“This is where we play foot-ball.” He said slowly.
I did know him. In fact, I think a lot of the school knew him. His name, Stephen. He’d started in our school in our third year and the rumour mill spun out of control, because people didn’t tend to transfer to boarding schools. Especially not in their third years. there were many different theories;
He had been kicked out of his last school.
His parents were punishing him.
He killed someone.
He was in witness protection.
He bribed someone.
He was on the run.
Of course, none of these were true. He was thirteen, he definitely hadn’t killed anyone, and he wasn’t actually being punished. It turned out, Stephen was trans, and had transitioned. He had chosen to move schools and had just so happened to pick our school.
He’d never been secretive, ever. In fact, he’d been crass and bold telling any rumour spreaders – the choir – where to go, everyone knew because he hadn’t allowed the rumours to get too out of control, even though I’d heard he’d killed someone in his old school by kicking a football at their head.
I decided to stay away from him – granted a little out of fear, because unlike Cassidy, if he wanted to, he could probably eat me alive.
“Football.” I repeated, he cocked his head at me, “isn’t that the one with the sticks?” I said, he laughed, then looked away as if trying his damn hardest not to show that I even amused him. I smiled to myself. “You said I might as well come play.” I said, he shrugged softly.
“Really?” he said,
“That’s what you said.”
“You might scuff your loafers. What are they, Gucci? Louis Vuitton?”
“Doc Martens.” I said, Stephen met my eyes as I frowned at him, “you’re talking to the King, not the Queen.” I added, “and you’re here so I’m presuming you’re a Rich Kid too, what are yours?” I said, looking down at his trainers, he also did. “They’re Kurt Geiger.” I said, then I laughed. “And you’re a hypocrite.”
“I thought you said you weren’t the Queen.” He said raising his eyebrow at me, I did it back.
“So, I can’t know brands?”
“You’re more than meets the eye, huh?”
“Can even play football.” I said, he snorted.
“What’s the offside rule?” he asked, I shrugged my blazer off.
“A player will be offside if the ball is played forward to them in the opposing teams half, and there is no opposing player between them and the opposing goalkeeper during this sequence of play.” I said, he choked. I widened my eyes at him as I walked towards the goal,
“How dare you know about football. This is my turf.” He said dramatically, I smirked as I lamely kicked the ball too him. He stopped it quite easily.
“Tell me what instrument I play.” I said, he looked at me, I laughed. He kicked the ball at me. Somehow, I saved it from going in.
“You blow into it.”
“Well done.” I said applauding him,
“It’s big.” He said, I gasped.
“Thank you.” I said, he shook his head as he ran his fingers through his hair.
“What position do I play?” he asked,
“Where?” I asked, he smirked.
“In the football team, you know, the Ravens… of Ravenwood Academy.”
“Our football team is called the Ravens?” I repeated, he nodded. “You’re centre forward.”
“I am not.”
“You play the… flute.”
“I do not.” I said, he rose an eyebrow at me, I did it back. “I guess we don’t know each other as well as we thought.”
“Why’d you know me?” he asked shaking his head at me,
“You’re Stephen, you killed a guy with a football when you were twelve.” I said, he laughed out in shock.
“You’re the King.” He replied, I nodded to him. “You’re an asshole.” He said, I touched my chest.
“Ouch.” I whispered, he shrugged.
“Just the facts.” He said, I shook my head at him going to reply then frowned at my pocket. Lifting my phone out as it vibrated telling me it was probably time I headed back to reality.
“I’ll prove you otherwise.” I said, Stephen laughed, “but, I’ve got to go.”
“Back to your royal subjects.” He said bowing sarcastically to me. I nodded my head.
“Go be sarcastic in your Geiger trainers somewhere else.” I said, he smiled slightly as I unhooked my blazer from the cage,
putting it back on.
Cody leant outside the orchestra room, his cello case resting beside him. Looking very cool and relaxed as he lifted his blazer sleeve and read his watch.
“Almost late your Majesty.” He said, as he held my case out to me. I smiled at him as I took it.
“Thanks.” I said softly, “wouldn’t want to lose my head.” I added, he smirked, picking up his cello and opening the door to the orchestra room. I stepped through.
“Oh, thank god. I was worried after your disappearing act Kennedy.” Our orchestra teacher, Mr Thwaite, Otis, said as I leant my case on my seat.
“I’d never leave you Otis.” I said, he preened, it looked pleased before he began to evaluate the room. He tapped his baton against his stand, most of the room stood up straight. I opened my case, checked my reed then held my saxophone out in front of me. Otis smiled at me, I smirked back as he tapped out a countdown on his stand.
“Let’s take it from the top.” Otis requested, so we did.
The room filling with the rich sound of our instruments blending together. We were well practiced, perfectly tuned. There was never a note misplayed, never a piece of music out of place.
We were the best, and that was undeniable. You only made it into the senior orchestra if you were successful in the junior orchestra, and you only got into the junior orchestra if you excelled in first year.
The orchestra was triple the size in first year, but I was the only saxophonist and had been for the last seven years, so there was no doubt that I was at least going to advance from first year. It just, helped, I suppose that Otis was fond of me. Which, also meant he spent time rearranging pretty much every piece we played to have a heavy saxophone section.
This had led to multiple wins, as we had an edge over other orchestras who didn’t have a saxophone player, or didn’t have a very good one. As the saxophone was the easiest instrument to get a noise out of but the hardest to learn how to play correctly. It had thoroughly impressed Otis when I’d started in this school, aged eleven with the ability to play my saxophone, practically flawlessly.
Okay, so sometimes I still squeaked, or lost my breath and caused my saxophone to sound like it was dying, but I was eleven, I still had some learning to do. Which I of course did because Otis threatened, multiple times, that he’d downgrade me to the recorder if I didn’t improve, so I worked my ass off because I was not being downgraded to the recorder. Ever, that’d be like Cassidy being downgraded to tree!
“Bring us home Kennedy.” Otis said happily as slowly everyone else stopped playing around me, leaving just my saxophone, filling the orchestra hall with the rich sound.
“Very nice.” Otis practically purred, “lovely sound you make there Kennedy.” He said, I nodded to him as I took a deep breath, turning to look at Cody as he smirked at me, plucking his C string. The low sound not too loud.
“As I’m sure you all appreciate, the showcase is coming up. You’re all able to, encouraged even, to perform as soloists or in duets. You can also perform any of your instrument repertoire. Kennedy, I look forward to hearing what you’re going to perform on your recorder.” He said, I laughed, it still sounded slightly breathy.
“Fuck off Otis.” I said, he smirked at me.
“Lost your breath there son.” He said, I shook my head as I turned over the page of my music sheet.
“Kennedy…” Otis beckoned me as we packed away. I clicked my saxophone case shut, turning to him. I walked to him as I shrugged my blazer on.
“Am I in trouble?” I asked, Otis shook his head, amused.
“When are you ever? Did you have a good birthday?” he asked, I nodded.
“Big party.” I said, “might still be drunk.”
“Ah, that’s why you’ve lost your breath.” He said, raising his eyebrow at me amused. I shook my head as the room cleared out. We both watched as the last few left. “I heard about what Devon did.” He said, I looked down at my loafers.
“Yeah, I think the entire school heard.” I muttered,
“Are you okay?”
“No.” I said, honestly, because this was Otis. I’d been in Otis’ orchestra for seven years. He’d given me tuition for the last six years, which consisted of playing the saxophone for ten minutes then sitting and talking through everything and anything for the remaining fifty minutes. Sure, the tuitions had become fewer and further between as I had gotten older, and our decisions had become more social without the facade of it actually contributing to my education.
“No.” he repeated, he sounded sad so I shrugged.
“It’d have been fine if sex hadn’t been involved, but it was, and man I feel like shit.”
“I thought you’d like to know, that I spoke to their director. We won’t be liaising with the choir anymore.”
“You can do that?” I asked, he nodded almost frowning at me,
“You might be the current King Kennedy, but someone had to reign before you.” He said, winking at me, I laughed.
“You’re badass.” I stated,
“Yes. Yes I am.” He said, “and I look after my boys.” He said, it sounded fierce. I smiled.
“Thank you, Otis.” I said nodding,
“Anytime…” he said, and I believed him, “and Kennedy, if you need to talk to someone about, Devon…”
“I haven’t even spoken to Cody about Devon.”
“Have you spoken to Cassidy?” He asked, I nodded.
“But we were getting increasingly stoned as we did, so who knows if the actual words came out of my mouth.” I said, his smile held a quiet laugh.
“Whenever you need to talk Kennedy, come find me.” he said, then he pointed at me, “and we had a deal, if you have weed, you let me know.”
“Emergency weed.” I said, “dyer circumstance, we didn’t even tell Cody or Theo.”
“That makes me feel better.” He said nodding,
“Thank you Otis, seriously, and, one day we will sit and have a beer and you’ll tell me about your reign.”
“Glady.” He said nodding as I turned, picking up my saxophone. I nodded to him as I left the orchestra hall. Cody jumped as I left, standing from the wall and picking his cello up.
“Are you in trouble?”
“Deeply.” I said nodding. “Detention for the next month and everything.”
“Shit.” Cody said, dramatically. I almost smirked. “What did you even do?” he added, I struggled. “This is where the differences between Cassidy and you come to light.” he said almost smugly as we walked towards the boarding house. “If I were talking to Cassidy, right now, he’d have written, and choreographed a three-act performance about his fake detention.” He smirked at me, I laughed because he so wasn’t wrong.
He placed his card to the door, opening it and leaning on it, looking at me as I read the notice board. It proclaimed, in capital letters on a laminate;
RAVENS VS HAWKS
FRIDAY!
KICK OFF 5:30
“Hey.” Cody said, I dragged my attention back towards him. “Coming?” he asked, I nodded stepping through after him towards the boarding house.
♕
Chapter Three
The football pitch was full. I guess. The fold out chairs that surrounded the pitch were mostly full. The two teams lined either side of the pitch. It wasn’t as enthusiastic as, say, a band concert or the overture of the musical. There was life for sure, people chatting, so many people you couldn’t really make out anyone’s conversation.
There were bright blurring lights as the nights were now getting darker, they lit up the entire football pitch and audience (?), crowd (?) washing everyone out with the bright white light.
A few people had paper horns, whether they were makeshift from the programme – do football games have programmes? – or whether they were being handed out was yet to be seen, but regardless they were being blown loudly and constantly without any effort to create some sort of tune.
I sat on the HAWKS side, a sea of black and yellow as
the opposing schools’ fans cheered and hollered towards their players. The RAVENS side was a bit sparser, a few people sporting the double blue attire of our team. I couldn’t really figure out who it was here supporting the team.
There were some of the younger years, all sporting our school scarves wrapped up, and sat close together to share the heat – much like penguins. There were few from my year, although I was pretty certain I’d spotted someone from my Maths class. None of the theatre boys were here, none of the choir, none of the band.
They were all otherwise occupied at a sit in, that I’d be joining them at when the ninety minutes were over. I’d told Cassidy I’d see him later, I’d told Cody I had a date, as I knew Cassidy would ask after me when I didn’t turn up on time. I figured he’d squeal and become excited at the thought of me getting over Devon, and it gave him something to brag about until I got there, at least.
I knew, that Cassidy knew I wouldn’t put out, I wouldn’t have sex on first swipe, so when I still had time to join them afterwards, it wouldn’t be suspicious.
Which was also the reason I was sat on the HAWKS side, because what was more suspicious than the King being sat watching the football match. It was not the done thing. It was always going to be the root of gossip, and I wanted to avoid that.
I looked up when a whistle was blown harshly. The volume increasing to one hundred, as the two teams ran onto the field. My eyes searching out, until I spotted Stephen. He was laughing as he high-fived a few of his team members then ran into the goal. He strapped the huge gloves onto his hands, hitting his fists together, then reaching up to the goal and knocking the top with his fist.
He seemed happy with the results of his punches then nodded to his team. Holding his hands out, so it looked as if he was about to go into a fierce routine of jazz hands. I doubted it, although it’d definitely make things more interesting.
I mean, football is just a whole lot of running, from one end of a field to another chasing a ball, but, Stephen – the goalkeeper – was pretty good at his job. He never let one slip, none of the balls that came flying at him hit the back of the net. He appeared amused, almost cocky, especially when he stood and laughed at the balls that bounced off the goal.
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