Chapter Text
Chatter fills the hallways of the school. Students head in and out of different classrooms, talking and laughing with one another about weekend plans and schoolwork. The majority of students, however, are all discussing the upcoming prom.
In her office, Principal Bailey sits behind her desk. Her brow furrows deeper as she listens to Mr. Katt explain the locker incident and what the nurse had told him about Wybie. In all her twenty years as a high school principal, she's seen and heard it all. There's the old school bullying with stealing homework and forcing the more academically gifted students into doing it, maybe a group of mean girls take their comments way too far, and she's even met some teachers who were out of line.
This? This is just brutal.
The whole Lovat family- all that remains- has always been odd. She doesn't recall much of Michael and Wybie's parents, only that they were a rather private and religiously devout couple. Long before Wybie was born, they homeschooled Michael until the school board forced them to put him in regular school, and like his brother, he kept to himself. But unlike Wybie, everyone steered clear of Michael like the plague, never bothering to harass him like the current students do with his younger brother.
After they died, Michael was a legal adult and took up the role of Wybie's guardian. He tried to do the same as them and homeschool his brother, but the school board wouldn't allow it. And frankly, she thought it was for the best.
She was there during the 'Rain of Stones,' having lunch with a friend when she heard that poor boy screaming. The next thing she knew, she was outside and nearly hit on the head with a rock. It's an event most of the people in Ashland don't talk about anymore; they prefer it stay in the back of their minds.
"A UTI?" She echoes.
Mr. Katt nods, his expression calm but his eyes hold frustration. "The nurse said that's why he was bleeding. I don't understand it, either. You'd think it wouldn't happen to someone his age, but here we are."
"She's sure it wasn't a cut?"
He sighs. "No. There was blood coming from his... Roberta, he didn't even know what it was. Until a few moments ago, he thought he was dying and it was some sort of punishment until the nurse and I had to explain to him what was going on. He was terrified and still is."
Principal Bailey sighs, leaning back in her chair. "Know what? This is on that brother of his." She cuts him off, "You know I'm right. Keith, he's picking up what his parents instilled in him. That boy is seventeen and should know about his health. Hell, he should be getting treated. Not as long as Michael..."
"You know we cannot interfere with people's beliefs," Mr. Katt reminds her. "I don't like it, either. And as for those boys," he starts today.
"Let me guess, Thomas Aarons?"
The coach sits down on the couch. "Wybie's always his scapegoat. But the thing is, these other three- Norman, Kubo, and Neil weren't involved."
"They didn't do anything to stop it, either," she says matter-of-factly. "I'm just saying, anyone who was in that locker room and was a witness should get what's coming to them. As for Wybie? Send him home for the day."
As if on cue, the door to the office creaks open, and Wybie steps in. He's wearing his usual dark clothes, an old hoodie and jeans, and old Converse sneakers. Around his neck is a silver cross that rarely leaves his body. His eyes remain glued to the floor, and his shoulders slump as he approaches the desk.
"Have a seat, dear," Principal Bailey says, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. Wybie hesitates for a moment, then walks over and sits down, his gaze fixed on the floor. "... How are you feeling?" Wybie momentarily lifts his head to spare her a glance before looking back down at the floor.
Mr. Katt, meanwhile, goes over to the water cooler and pours a cup of water before handing it to Wybie. He takes a small sip before placing it on the table. The coach sits beside him in the other chair, watching with a concerned expression. "Wybie, we need to talk about this. You are free to go home for the rest of the day, but first, we'd like to talk about the incident."
Wybie shakes his head ever so slightly. Right at that moment, the water in the cooler begins to ripple.
"Wybie, we need to talk about what happened in the locker room," Principal Bailey begins, her tone firm but not unkind as she pulls a small blue slip out of her desk and proceeds to sign it. "If you could tell us who started it, then we can help you."
Wybie still doesn't respond. His posture is stiff and his hands are clenched in his lap. The thought of talking about what happened, of saying who tormented him- He deserved it. He must have deserved it somehow. Micha told him he was a sinner, that he had sinned many times. The blood, the torment- It's because he sinned, and when Micha finds out...
Mr. Katt glances at the water cooler, which now appears to be bubbling. The jug even begins to shake.
Principal Bailey sighs, frustration creasing her brow and unaware of Wybie's inner dread. "Wybie, if you won't tell us what happened, that's fine. But, I am going to have to call your brother and-"
"NO!" Wybie's head snaps up to meet Principal Bailey's startled gaze when her hand just barely hovered over the phone, but then there's a sudden, sharp cracking sound. A gallon of water gushes onto the floor. The coach and principal stand and step away from the shattered hug and the rapidly forming puddle.
Wybie doesn't waste a second. With their attention on the jug, he grabs the blue slip and dashes out of the office before Mr. Katt can call out to him.
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"Can you believe Katt?" Tom huffs and leans against a hallway locker. He still refused to let the incident in the locker room go. And who could blame him? It was Wybie, of all people. "I'll deal with you soon," he says in a deeper voice to mock the gym teacher. "Acting like we had anything to do with Wyborne getting his period!" The boys around him nod in agreement or laugh at the memory, sneers across their faces.
All except one.
"I mean, we were just messing with the guy," chimes in Francis, another one of Tom's lackeys. He smoothes his still-wet black hair back. "He's the one who got all mental over a bit of blood. Did you see his face?!"
Another one, Gavin, snorts, "Who can forget a mug like that?" He lets out a loud laugh, slapping Francis on the back as he does and making the taller of the two stumble a bit. The group burst into laughter one more, their voices blending as each one chimes in with an insult or humiliating story about Wybie.
"Remember in eighth grade? He got down on his knees and prayed in the middle of the cafeteria!"
"What about in fourth? Everyone thought he was having a seizure, but the idiot just said, 'I was speaking in tongues.'"
"Hey, who remembers this? Prayin' Wyborne, the one everybody scorns! His bones should be broken and his hair torn!'"
As the laughter grows louder, Norman Babcock remains quiet, standing a little off to the side and hoping the others don't look his way and notice he's not joining in. His gaze remains fixed on something, anything in the hallway, to try and take his mind off of the guilt and discomfort eating him alive right now.
Norman had never liked the way Tom and the others treated Wybie. He recalled their younger years when Wybie was the quiet kid who never quite joined in with the other kids. He'd keep to himself, and whenever it looked like he wanted to play with someone, he'd quickly go in the other direction. They never saw him at the park or even playing out in the front yard of his own home.
Norman had never been close to him when they were kids, but he never had anything against him either.
He doesn't know what happened. As they got older, the other kids began to notice that Wybie was... Different. He dressed in dark clothes, murmured things under his breath, and flinched at the quietest of sounds. It didn't mean Tom had to terrorize him the way he did... It also didn't mean he had to join him so he wouldn't be lumped in with the "class freak."
"Hey, Babcock."
Norman snaps back to the present when he feels something nudge his arm.
"You with us?"
He nods quickly. "Yeah. Yeah, I am," he says, forcing a hollow-sounding laugh. Tom gives him a long look, but then turns his attention back to the group when the insults continue.
"Oh, and that brother of his! He's a fucking nutcase! Always ranting and screaming about how everyone is going to hell!"
"Well, except for him and his 'precious baby brother'"!
Gavin laughs and slaps his knee. Mimicking Micha's stern voice, he says, "The Lord is watching, and He doesn't like what He sees! Repent, ye filthy sinners!" He theatrically waves his arms, drawing more laughter from the group. Norman forces out a laugh as he continues to listen to them mock Wybie and his brother.
He'd been around Wybie's neighborhood a couple of times and overheard the things people said- how Wybie used to be such a cheerful kid, but Micha kept a tight leash on him until he became a shadow of his former self. He heard mentions of screaming, doors slamming, and glass breaking coming from the Lovat house, but no one's ever done anything about it.
"Alright, alright." Still laughing, Tom holds his hands up, gesturing for the others to be quiet. "Enough. There will be plenty more people with plenty more stories about Wyborne at Amber's party later today, alright? Don't be late!"
Norman forces a smile. Right. Amber. The Queen of Ashland High with a wallet as thick as her hair. She's Tom's girlfriend and pretty much a female version of him, only she makes the lives of female students miserable with her band of harpies, as he, Kubo, and Neil like to call them... Well, Harpies featuring Coraline.
... He doesn't have an excuse. He was a stupid kid, and that's it. But Coraline just... That was just cruel. He could tell she never wanted to say those things. It almost seemed to physically hurt her... But did she have to do it in front of their entire class?
As the bell rings, signaling the start of the new class, Norman lingers behind as his "friends" walk off, still joking and laughing. Hearing a thud followed by laughter, he turns and sees a few students laughing as Wybie picks his belongings up off the floor before dashing down the hallway. He sighs, feeling a pang of guilt but doing nothing to quell it.