Full of annoyance, I got there about five, ten minutes before the course.

Of course, the weather has changed. Because why would it be warm and sunny longer than cold and wet? Where else would be the point of fate going against all odds?

With these feelings, I folded the umbrella, placing it next to the entrance. I saw Benjamin sitting in "his" place under the window, leaning on his elbow with his face turned to the book.

Walking up to the place next to him, I involuntarily thought about the wave of misunderstandings and troubles started by this person. How many accusations have fallen on me as a result of his behavior? The annoyance in me rose slightly. Sitting in my chair, I decided to just ignore him. Stay out of his way.

But suddenly my plans went somewhere in the far back of my head, when purple and red flashed between the curly hair of the boy. And after a short while of deep thinking, I realized what I was seeing.

A big swelling around his eye.

Even for the next hour, the boy did not take his eyes off the book. The teacher, surprisingly, did not question him as always, but deliberately chose others to answer. It all came together in an unusual image, which was far from giving me a peace of mind. At that point, I was convinced that the teacher knew Benjamin well. She hadn't seen him in this moment, in this state, for the first time.

Honestly, I expected that at the end of class the boy would catch me or annoy me with something, but this time he just packed his things and left the class without much energy, with his head down.

I frowned, thinking about it for another moment. The fact that he did not come to me was not a reason for relief or joy. All I felt was curiosity. I was stuck in a deep wonder. And then there was this strange feeling in the chest. Pinching.

"Everything alright?"

I turned my head to Mrs. Harrison, who appeared right next to me. She was old, but you could notice a young spirit shining in her sea-colored eyes. Her hair, dyed light blonde, was pulled up in a perfect bun, and her clothes, in the form of a strange, fancy suit, took away a few years from her age. She was beaming with modern aura.

I was about to dodge the question and walk away, but something completely different came out of my mouth.

"You know why does Benjamin have..."

"The black eye?" she finished for me with a sad smile. Then she looked at the door where she had last seen the boy. "I have no idea, and I really wish I did. He's a good boy, though sometimes his impulsiveness can be misleading."

She smiled, and all I could see were pieces of a completely mismatched whole. If the teacher didn't know the reason, where did it lie? There was some truth in what she said, I had to admit. Benjamin's impulsiveness may have led him astray, but it did him a great deal of harm.

"Yes, thank you," I replied, noticing my immobility, and after nodding my head in the woman's direction, I immediately left the building.

A lot of scenarios went through my head, but none of them were enough. There was always something missing.

Always.


"Dear child! What happened to you?!"

I passed by my mother standing in the doorway, but she immediately stopped me, grabbing my wrist. The force of my momentum involuntarily turned me back in her direction.

Her eyes were filled with lightning and fear.

"Did you see yourself? Blood here, swelling there, and I'm asking you, where did you get that?!"

I got out of her grip, full of rage. "None of your business."

And as I was going to the bathroom, I heard her follow me.

"None of my business?! You parade around our neighborhood with your face butchered, and you tell me it's none of my business?!"

"Exactly."

"Ugh!" she screamed as she followed me into the bathroom. She didn't care about violating my personal space.

When I took some dark towel and peroxide water from the third drawer of the dresser, under the sink, my mother broke her silence with another question, full of typical, when it came to her, tension.

"What's that on your hands?!"

I looked briefly at the mentioned place, watching the swollen, blatantly red knuckles of my hand, and more. And then, in a rage that still lingered inside me, I silently started to wipe the blood from under my lip.

"How could you get into any kind of fight?! Did you think for a moment what the neighbors would think? School? Have you even thought about how much this is going to cost us?"

Then I stared blankly at my reflection, losing all my energy. I involuntarily froze in place. She knew where to hit. Always.

"I thought so." And with a slam of the door, she left the room.

She always knew.

Always.

Open air plus rain and cold did not make a successful pair. I would be tempted to say that they were rather an explosive and doomed duet.

But as I stepped out onto an empty field surrounded by trees, I noticed a large, transparent tent hanging over the whole event. And my doubts have been washed away. The makeshift roof was minimally covering, but for the most part was transparent, allowing the image of the beginning of the event to peak through. It had four corners, but as it went up, it had a rather circular shape. There were a couple of entrances, same as to any other basic tent, and I just used the closest one, folding an umbrella along the way.

And it was much warmer here than outside.

Because of the temperature, the smells of the party hit me with bigger force, similar to the one in the club itself. Relieved, I took off my wet coat and stayed in my gray sweater. Fortunately for me, it was not thick, because there was a difference between the summer cold breeze and the usual cold. I wasn't dressed for winter, but I was forced to roll up my sleeves to my elbows.

I immediately noticed that the wooden tables were set up on the outskirts of the bar and food booths, and they were occupied by a large part of people.

"Cool idea, huh?"

Smiling Britt appeared out of nowhere, looking where I had a second ago. I think she herself felt the temperature rising and gave up her sweatshirt, just wearing the burgundy T-shirt. Which is weird, because I've never seen her take it off at a club. And to make things weirder, she left her beanie on, and for a moment I was wondering if she wasn't getting too hot under it.

The coworker did not wait for my answer, saying:

"We don't have to serve them there, and there's more room for dancing."

I looked around again and in fact, it was possible to notice a reduction in people dancing through the added tables, which paradoxically gave the whole space and air. As I was looking around the busy area, I noticed Britt's friends. They talked cheerfully to each other, laughed at each other, and gesticulated vigorously with their hands, making the others even more amused.

However, one of them did not quite share the mood of the group.

Kendrick.

"Yeah, right," I said, ending the conversation. I was pulled out of an earlier trance by a girl
walking up to a bar.

The next hours of customer service, besides occasional dish washing, one conversation with
the vice-manager about my well-being and sitting in a bar chair, I spent on analyzing Britt's friends. I was connecting the dots, crossing out the wrong hypotheses in my head, and interpreted the behavior of honey-eyes guy.

All this time, he was acting different from the rest. Maybe that was his nature, but it was not enough explanation for his pensive look and gaze stuck everywhere but on his friends.

Britt once again ran off to ask the vice-manager about something, and I had practically nothing to do for 12 minutes. My phone's screen showed one o'clock yet again when I looked at it for the fourth time in one minute. I really wanted to serve someone so I wouldn't just sit around.

And what happened next momentarily interrupted my Sudoku game.

A loud bang of hands on one of the tables.

If it weren't for the heads turned in that direction and Kendrick standing over the tattooed guy in pure anger, I wouldn't have found the source of the sound so quickly. His hand was in front of a guy who reciprocated the murderous gaze, ready to burn down whole villages with it alone. The tension between them I could feel being a good dozen of feet away. The slightly slanted eyes narrowed at Kendrick's gesture, and I knew what that meant.

Which is why I got up from my seat, not entirely convinced of what I was doing just yet. I moved in their direction quickly, but calmly enough not to be conspicuous. I put my hand up to the security guard who was alerted next to me, letting him know that I had everything under control.

Although this I was just about to find out.

I reached the group a little exposed to the light of glances all around. However, I did not let the situation get me carried away or annoyed. All I wanted was for them to stop drawing the attention of others and stop alienating them with their behavior. The clients were valuable. That was my priority.

Or at least that's what I kept telling myself, as I approached the tense fight between the two
boys' stares, and I stopped right next to them.

"Can you solve your problems anywhere else? You're scaring the customers," I spoke quietly, but coolly. The less security intervention, the better for the club.

The three people excluded from the conflict looked at me in surprise. The first person I heard was Peacemaking Perfectionist.

"Guys, come on. Is this discussion really taking place?" She looked at the two of them standing dead still, and then directed the question to the rest of her friends. Her black, short hair swayed for a moment from the sudden movement of her head.

A dark-skinned guy scratched his neck, genuinely worried and confused by the situation before his eyes.

"I knew we should have gotten them more drinks."

I stopped the eye-roll the very last second. Right after that statement, drunk Valentia stood right in front of the two of them, facing me on the other side. Her annoyance was almost as intense as the boys' anger. She pointed to the table behind her, speaking in a firm and sharp voice.

"Sit down, before I do the first hook. Not kidding." And when none of them listened to her, and practically ignored her, she looked at Orange T-shirt guy. "Ken, don't you think you're overreacting? Chucks..."

"We don't need a mediator," he replied, looking at her briefly, but did not say it with venom in his voice. "I'm leaving anyway."

And with that sentence, he passed everyone, while doing something he definitely shouldn't have done.

Without looking back, he deliberately bumped Tattooes Fan, Chucks, with his shoulder.

And he didn't take that very well.

Chucks grabbed him by the back of his shirt, holding him in place. And I think it was a miracle that I noticed Kendrick's fist clenching.

Because I stopped his hand not too far from Chucks' face.

He looked at me for the first time since I got here, and I realized what I'd done. Everything just stopped. It was so instinctive that it momentarily threw off all my pretense. My hand was firmly holding his elbow, which was boiling with emotion.

His eyes, still angry, were shooting golden sparks. He frowned heavily confused, noticing what I had done. He put on his analytical face. He noticed something. And it brought me back to my typical attitude. It restored my stoicism. With the coolness of my aggravation, I spoke quietly and without emotion at the same time.

"I'll walk you out."

And without waiting, I let go of his arm, heading for the nearest exit in the transparent shield. I knew he was right behind me when, halfway through the crowd of dancing students, he was walking along with my pace. I could feel his anger. But he hid it well under the monotonous expression of his face.

I was annoyed myself. Exposed. At risk. Agitated. I was all of those bad emotions just because I did it again. All it took was a reflex. And I felt like there wasn't much I could do to stop the hand clench. It filled me with annoyance. I hated that helplessness. The moment when I was caught off guard without any control. The moment I was forced to brace myself with patience again. Stoicism. Humility.

The moment I could have fallen.

And I think something finally wiped off of me when we got to the exit. I've been waiting for him to disappear from my sight, taking his piercing curiosity away from me. But what would life be like if it fulfilled our requests?

The guy stopped in front of the curtain, looking at the old drops frozen still on its outer side. It's stopped raining. The party lights bounced off the slippery material, landing on his stoic face.

"I'd hit him if I wanted to."

He didn't look at me, but I knew what he was trying to tell me. My arm wasn't strong enough to stop the blow. I wasn't the main stopping factor.

"Distrust works both ways," I said after a moment with a slight exasperation. "I'm not taking any chances."

Only then did he turn his head in my direction. The analytical gaze of the hazel eyes was back.

"I noticed."

And that look got me agitated. He did it again.

"One of your loved ones being hurt doesn't excuse you from hurting the others."

The words flew out of my mouth, partly out of my control, but after saying them I did not feel bad. What I saw that afternoon on the course, I could connect with the just-ended dispute. And when Kendrick frowned again, once again caught off guard, I knew I had hit the nail on the head.

After a moment of thought, his face became relaxed, filled with sudden realization.

"You Saw Benjamin."

And while I didn't feel intimidated by his gaze, I turned my own away, to the crowd of people.

"Yeah."

I didn't know why, I felt that stupid pinch around my heart again. Before my eyes I saw the purple and red of a boy's face. I didn't even know if he was the attacker or the attacked. Whether it happened to him at school or somewhere else. And despite all that, the sting was still there. Needles in the heart. They annoyed me.

"He told me you weren't from around here."

I couldn't help but tense up at that sentence.

"When he started talking to me after he took your pencil case," he finished a sentence with a strange sound.

I dared to turn my head to raise a brow at him. I masked my reflexes with a certain look. I had to find out what he was after.

"And?"

"And for some reason he trusts you. Without knowing you or even your name."

I frowned, adjusting my glasses involuntarily.

"Why are you telling me this?"

I was really curious. I didn't need that information. I didn't like the way Benjamin talked about what he knew. Even though he was just a kid, and that was to be expected. I didn't like the path of our conversation or the way Kendrick looked at me. He studied my movements, my emotions, and every word I said. I didn't like how little it took to get someone's unwanted attention. To make someone suspicious.

And when he finally spoke, looking away in aggravation, I began to sincerely doubt my hearing.

"I need your help."