I entered the Social Action room the next day and took my usual seat. Farren and Connor were in there, Connor's hand buried in his bag, probably petting his dog.

                "Do you bring your dog to school every day?" I said.

                "Jonesy has separation anxiety," Connor said defensively.

                "Yea, I don't think it's Jonesy who has the problem," Farren said. "Look at this! I bought this for $10 and this girl is willing to give me $30 for it all because I talked up the features and gave her a few cute smiles."

                "Ty will be pissed if he finds out you're doing that again," Connor said.

                "And he'll be pissed if he finds out you're bringing your dog to school again, so we're both going to keep our mouths shut to save our asses from his wrath," Farren said.

                "Do you trust his judgment right now? Obviously he's getting emotional with Mallory involved," I said.

                "Farren will get Tyson to pull his head out of his ass," Connor said.

                "Don't put that job on me," Farren said.

                "You're the best suited for it. Besides, if he goes after Mallory, it'll make more work for us," Connor said. "I'm get paid to pull off revenge schemes. Tyson doesn't get to squeeze free work out of me."

                "I'm not all that surprised. Mallory loads money into this school so they treat his two brats like royalty. Of course they let him do what he wants," Farren said. "It's always about the money and influence in the end."

                "What, Mallory?" Talon asked as he and Nyssa entered the room. "All the money in the world wouldn't give him the ability to outrun us or to put up a good fight. He looks like a bitch."

                "You could punch Patrick Mallory. You'd have to punch a lot of people in jail too, though, because he has the cops in the palm of his hand," Nyssa said.

                "True. He donates a lot of money to the cops and made sure to get in with the right connections," Farren said. "They wouldn't go near the guy. He could publicly execute a baby and the cops would turn a blind eye."

                "Everyone would turn a blind eye except Tyson, which is the most ironic thing I think I've ever said," Talon said.

                "Good last words," Tyson said, entering the room and whacking Talon in the back of the head with a textbook. "Lucky for you, you're so brain damaged a little more injury there won't matter."

                "Ow! Nys, you just going to let him treat me like this?" Talon said.

                "I'm your sister, not your bodyguard, Tal," Nyssa said, shoving him at the desk. "Go sit before you make Tyson angrier."

                "Oh, I've got a swell bad mood going," Tyson said, swinging the textbook at Talon again.

                Nyssa caught it with one hand, which was enough force to yank it from Tyson's hand. She tossed the textbook onto a desk and pointed at Tyson's usual seat.

                "You go sit too before we play a stress relieving game of get down Mr. President," Nyssa said.

                "That is not how get down Mr. President even works," Tyson said, but snatched his textbook and took a seat. "Where the hell is Bishopp? I didn't pick him as a teacher advisor so he could be late."

                "You picked me so you could get away with things you otherwise shouldn't," Bishopp said, coming into the room and shutting the door. "I was explaining an assignment to a student."

                "Whatever. We need a real project amongst our other activities," Tyson said. "Something bigger than a sale."

                "Something big enough to upstage Mallory's noise-making about how helpful he is?" Farren said.

                "Something like that, yes," Tyson said. "What do you have for me?"

                "Not much. We've all been focused on our other activities," Nyssa said. "I could do some research."

                "I need something now. Something I can mention to the principal before he gets on my back about any of it," Tyson said.

                "You want a big project that'll upstage Mallory, yea? Why not take his own forces and put them in your pocket?" I said.

                "Normally I like it when you don't say words, but I like the sound of this so far. Go on," Tyson said, nodding his head at me to continue.

                "Well, why not do a big volunteer project for the police department? Or something that gets them involved and gives them good publicity? People aren't always good to cops anymore, so do something to let the community know these are people they can trust, and have them be grateful to you about it," I said. "With Farren's dad, you could figure something out. Doesn't the twins' dad have a company that fixes up housing? You could do a housing project for poor families."

                "That's not a bad idea," Bishopp said. "We could multitask it, too. An extended housing project, and a few smaller projects to fund it. Car washes, raffles, pancake breakfast. Stuff like that."

                "Our dad could lead the project. It'll get his business more exposure," Nyssa said.

                "Mallory will be chasing ghosts while we leave an impact on the community and get the cops on our side," Tyson said. "I like it. It'll also make the cops less suspicious of us. Farren, talk to your dad tonight. I want a report before I go to bed."

                "On it," Farren said.

                "Twins, talk to your dad. Get him in on the project so I don't have to go through the hassle of finding a professional to lead it," Tyson said.

                "He'll do it," Talon said. "He won't pass up the exposure."

                "He's got to put two kids through college at the same time. Any chance to make more money, he won't let slip by," Nyssa said.

                "You're helpful for a change," Tyson said to me. "Don't let it go to your head, though. I doubt it'll happen often."

                "A 'thanks for the idea Nolan' would be appreciated," I said.

                "You can go back to being quiet now," he said. "And don't forget we have a revenge job coming up. I need you all focused on both tasks. I'm digging up the blackmail I can on Dexter or Derek or whoever the hell we're after now."

                "Dexter," Farren said.

                "Such a stupid name. He's just asking to be a target," Tyson said.

                "We don't pick targets based on their names, Ty," Bishopp said.

                "We should. Who the fuck names a kid Dexter?" Tyson said.

                "Your name is literally Tyson, why are you judging anyone?" Connor said. "I grew up eating chicken nuggets with your name on the box. You can't judge names."

                "Shut it or I kick your bag," Tyson said. "Outcast, psyche yourself up, because I'm going to put a lot more pressure on you this time around for the job."

                "Tyson," Bishopp said nervously. "Don't push him. This isn't something to gamble with."

                "We're not at a casino, Bishopp. Let me run things my way. I haven't fucked up yet," Tyson said. "We're all still here, no criminal records."

                "Let's keep it that way," Bishopp said.

                "Plan to. Any other business? We'll have a longer meeting and go into details about everything once Farren and the twins talk to their dads," Tyson said.

                "I think we're all set," Nyssa said. "Will that longer meeting include the plan for going after Dexter?"

                "It will," Tyson said.

                "Then we're done here and I can go walk my dog," Connor said, standing up with his bag.

                "Don't you dare take the dog out of that bag while you're still in the school," Bishopp said. "Principal Devin would have my head if he knew I didn't report you having that thing here."

                "'That thing' has a name and feelings," Connor said. "Be mindful of that, Bishopp."

                "You guys do remember I'm the adult here, right? The teacher? Respect your elders?" Bishopp said.

                "Good luck with that," Tyson said, patting Bishopp's shoulder. "You're hardly older than us."

                "I'm 28!" Bishopp said.

                "And we're 17," Tyson said. "Go drink away your sorrows in a bar with your friends, kid."

                Bishopp sighed and got up, grabbing his bag. "I'm leaving to go on a journey to find some respect."

                "A hopeless journey. Try not to get lost. We have a meeting tomorrow," Tyson said.

                Bishopp shook his head and left the room, Connor following. The others all began to gather their stuff, but I was trying to discreetly study Tyson's eyes. Something Talon said was getting to me.

                "We'll go talk to our dad," Nyssa said, dragging her brother with her. "Come on, Tal."

                "I'm coming, Nys. You don't have to drag me," Talon said, swatting her hands away.

                "I'll go talk to my dad, too. I'll call you tonight," Farren said, following the twins out of the room.

                I got up and went over to Tyson. He turned and I caught his face in my hands. He seemed surprised at first, but that quickly dissolved into annoyance and he pushed my hands away.

                "This is valuable property. Look, don't touch," he said, gesturing to his face.

                "You're blind in one eye," I said in surprise. "That's a fake eye. That's why it's a lighter color than your other one."

                From a distance, his eye looked real, just a different shade of blue. But up close, I realized it was a fake eye.

                "You're so slow," Tyson said. "It's a glass eye."

                "What happened to the real one?" I said.

                "BB gun accident. Mom always said I'd shoot my eye out," Tyson said, a bitter grin on his face.

                "That's...really disturbing, but also kind of cool," I said in fascination. "It doesn't screw you over when you try to pull off revenge jobs?"

                "Why would it? I've been blind in that eye since I was a kid. I've adjusted," he said. "Now, back off. I don't ask you personal questions."

                I frowned, realizing just how rude I'd been. "I'm really sorry, Tyson. I just...That was wrong of me. I'm sorry."

                He rolled his eyes. "I didn't want an apology. I wanted the opposite, actually. I wanted you to shut your mouth."

                "Well, I like the sound of my voice. So there's not a good chance of that happening," I said.

                "Can't imagine why. It's not a very good voice, and you don't put it to good use. You're nosy and you, quite frankly, get on my nerves," he said.

                I knew I should play it off with a laugh or a joke. Just let it go and walk away. Keep the smile on my face and remind myself that I don't know much about Tyson and shouldn't judge him.

                But he was such an asshole, my brain and mouth lost touch for a moment.

                "I apologized. You know, something you clearly don't know how to do since you just treat everyone like they're your employees instead of your friends or family. I'm part of this club now, I'm contributing the best I can, and I'm clearly not useless. I'm good about minding my own business, but everyone slips and gets curious sometimes. Keep your attitude in check, because I am a friendly guy, but I'd love to punch you in the mouth," I said.

                To my surprise, Tyson grinned again. "I make you so angry you can't keep the nice guy act up. It's amusing to see. So what's the real you, outcast? You're not a happy-go-lucky nice guy, but you're not strictly an asshole. I can't figure you out."

                My mouth dropped open a little. "You're pissing me off on purpose?"

                "You have the brain capacity of a fish, don't you?" Tyson pulled his car keys out of his bag. "Come with me."

                Flustered that he'd gotten to me like that, I silently followed him out of the classroom. We left the school and went down to the parking lot, Tyson catching my arm as I headed for my car.

                "Follow me means follow me," he said, pulling me towards his car.

                "Are you kidnapping me? I wouldn't blame you, but I would be alarmed," I said.

                "Trust me, you're not someone I'd want to keep," he said, releasing my arm and shoving me at his car. "Get in."

                I got in his car and he started it up, hooking his phone up and playing music as he backed out of the parking lot. He took off down the road, and I wondered if he was going to murder me and leave my body somewhere. I can't believe Tyson was actually kidnapping me. That was so fucking rude.

                "Where are w-" I started.

                "No talking." He turned the volume of his music up to drown out the sound of my voice.

                "As lightning strikes you have to start the fight. You're shifting gears, you're punishing, you step through the night." I leaned back in the seat and listened to Tyson's music, looking out of the window and wondering where he was taking me.

                It was a few minutes before he finally pulled into the parking lot of a café. He parked the car and got out without a word, so I copied him.

                "I'll pay, but only this time," he said, leading me into the café. "What do you want?"

                "I can pay for myself," I said.

                "I'm not generous often, so shut up and take the offer," he said.

                "I'm not picky. I'll get whatever you're getting," I said.

                "This is why I don't bother being nice. You're a pain in the ass even when I try," he said, stepping up to the counter. "Two cookies and cream lattes and two chocolate chip muffins, please."

                Tyson handed the employee his money and waited until the stuff was ready and put on a tray. He picked up the tray and led me to a quiet table in the corner, sitting down across from me and handing me my drink and muffin.

                "Thanks," I said, still wondering what the hell we were doing here.

                Tyson looked around to make sure no one would be able to overhear us. "You didn't make a sound following me around on that last job."

                "I'm good at being quiet, surprise," I said. "When I was little, my parents called me the Invisible Boy."

                "Skills I can put to use," he said, picking at his muffin. "The twins are quick, but they're athletes and they can be noisy. Farren prefers to be a lookout, and Connor never goes in person. I need backup that isn't going to make noise or trip over his own feet."

                "You don't even seem to like me," I said. "Yet you want me to be your backup?"

                "Don't take it personally. I don't like most people," Tyson said.

                "Wow, so edgy," I said.

                "Hey, not true. I am not that edgy guy. I listen to P!nk and Adele, I watch The Walking Dead with my dad, I saw Guardians Of The Galaxy and The Avengers in the theater, and I drink cookies and cream lattes. I can't stand Melanie Martinez's voice, I think Supernatural is boring, I can't stand Captain America, and I think Starbucks is overpriced. So yes, I say things like 'I don't like most people', but no, it's not to be cool. It's because I'm very picky."

                "So what kind of people do you like?" I said. "The ones that go along with your wild schemes?"

                "The ones who don't get on my nerves. A tragic few, really. But that's not what we're here about. On our next little mission, I want you to be my backup. Or, well, I suppose you'll be a bit more than just backup. I want you to help me and make sure neither of us get caught. We'll keep the twins hidden away for distractions if something goes wrong, but I think with two of us, we can do more." He had a gleam in his real eye that had me both excited and uneasy. Just what was he up to? "We need to pull off quite a few of these revenge jobs. We need to show the school, the police, and Patrick Mallory that we're not afraid and that we're not going to be brought down."

                "Tyson, you're getting too personal with it. This isn't about showing up Patrick Mallory," I said. I still had no idea what the situation was between the two, but Tyson couldn't let it go to his head. He needed to focus on the job, not on what statements he could use the job to make.

                "I know that. This isn't about my personal feelings. It's about showing we're unafraid as a group. They have nothing on us, and we're careful enough that they never will," he said. "With you, we can go after bigger targets and make a bigger impact. There are some students we get requested to deal with that we put off because we know our methods will only make them angrier, and they'll just create more problems. With your help, we can shut those students up. So Dexter will be the practice, but we can really make an impact after that if it goes well."

                "I want to stop the bullying problem," I said.

                "That's what we're doing," Tyson said.

                "I'd work for free," I said.

                "Good, then I don't have to worry about splitting the profit with you. Call us greedy if you want, but we needed the money to get us started," he said.

                "How did you get started?" I asked.

                "A story for another day." He checked the time and wrapped his muffin in a napkin. "I'll take you back to your car. My parents will wonder where I am if I get home too late."

                "And then your mom will threaten to murder you," I said, then frowned. "I never told my Uncle I'd be back a little later."

                "If he's anything like my mom, he'll strangle you to death the second you walk through the door," Tyson said, getting up and handing me a napkin.

                I wrapped my muffin in it and also got up. "No, he probably didn't even notice. He works all the time. But he's still responsible for me while I live with him, so I should let him know where I am."

                We left and got in his car. He turned the music down a little as he drove. "My turn to be nosy since you asked about my eye. Did you come to Braxton because you had a place to stay, or was it the school your heart was set on and you just got lucky you had an Uncle here?"

                "A little of both. I wanted to go to Braxton, but I was also looking at schools where I'd have a secure place to stay," I said. "My grandparents live near another school I was looking at. But I chose Braxton in the end. It had good results for its students." And it was far enough away from home that I could start over. That was the important part.

                "It's not that great," Tyson said.

                "You're wearing the Braxton uniform," I pointed out.

                He gave that dry grin. "I have my reasons for being a student at Braxton. There were a lot of private schools I could've gone to. Braxton High School, Kennedy High School, Constance Academy, Brimsey Academy, Belmont High School. I had a lot of options, but I wanted to go to Braxton."

                I didn't ask him his reason. If I did, it opened the door for him to ask my reason, and that was a path I didn't want to stray down.

                Tyson realized the conversation was dead and turned his music back up. He pulled back into the parking lot a few minutes later and parked next to my car.

                "I'm casting you out, outcast," he said.

                "That was the lamest joke you've ever made and I'm going to blackmail you with it the rest of my time here," I warned.

                "They wouldn't believe you if you told them I said something that lame," Tyson said. "Get out of my car. I make the threats, not you."

                "I think you'll find I'm not intimidated by you just because you have the title of President," I said, getting out of his car. "Thanks for the muffin, the drink, and the blackmail material."

                I shut the car door and dug my keys out, unlocking my car and getting in. I set the muffin and drink down, turning my car on.

                So Tyson wanted to use my Invisible Boy status to his advantage. If we could take down the bigger problem bullies at Braxton, we could help a lot of kids. A lot of victims. It would be frustrating to work with someone who came off as strong as Tyson did, but I'd endure it if it meant helping others.

                I unlocked my phone, opening the message app. My eyes scanned that message over and over again.

                I'm going for a run. I'll come over when I get back. Can I borrow your hoodie tomorrow? I don't want them to say anything again.

                I'd help Tyson and the others. I'd take down the bullies at Braxton. I'd make a difference and do the right thing for once.

------------------------------------

A.N.- Updating early because Max guessed something right and earned it (See Mika, Max can carry three times an ant's weight you fake fan)