I walked into school the next morning feeling on edge. Mallory might finally come after us today, and we'd played our last move. We were screwed if we hadn't scared him off.

                Tyson and I had spent most of the night together. When it got too late, I'd finally gone home to try and get some rest before we had to face this day.

                I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned, expecting to face Tyson. Instead, I was roughly shoved against the lockers by Drew.

                "One of your bitch-ass friends going to come tell me off?" he asked, hitting me against the lockers again.

                I met his eyes, thinking of Dylan, thinking of what Tyson had told Bishopp yesterday. A new way to fight back.

                "No, I'm going to tell you off," I said, pushing myself away from the lockers. "Hitting me won't raise your grades. Hitting me won't make you feel better. You're a pathetic person if you have to belittle someone to make yourself feel big. Bullying won't get you anywhere in life. So keep pushing me into lockers all you want. I'm going to keep working hard and improving myself. You can't blame others for your shortcomings forever."

                I shouldered past him, leaving him awestruck behind me as I went down to my locker. Staying silent wasn't going to fix the problem. I had a voice, and it was about time I used it.

                I could still be nice and try not to judge people. But I also had to speak up when people were doing something wrong. It was a balance I was still struggling to find, but I would work on it.

                Putting in my combination and pulling my locker open, I knelt down to exchange my books. Two sets of feet entered my peripheral vision and I stood up, facing Tyson and Farren.

                "Done fighting?" I guessed.

                "He wouldn't be the worst cellmate to have, I guess," Farren said.

                "I'd be a fantastic cellmate. I wouldn't even shank you with a makeshift weapon," Tyson said.

                "No one's getting arrested just yet," I said, shutting my locker and following them down the hallway.

                "Yea, give it two hours," Tyson said. "I'll have three dads lined up to kill me. Vinny, Mallory, and Corr."

                Farren let out a too high-pitched laugh. "If my dad has to arrest me, he's going to tighten to cuffs so much my wrists will snap in half."

                "Corr's beloved son living a life of crime," Tyson said. "Your conning would've gotten you caught eventually."

                "I'm a smart business man," Farren said. "You're the one who dragged me into this kind of illegal shit."

                Tyson gave that dazzling smile of his. "I would never."

                "You're Nolan's problem now," Farren said, shaking his head.

                "Where are the others?" I asked.

                "Connor's probably hugging his dog to death in a corner somewhere in terror, and the twins usually don't run into me until class," Tyson said.

                "When do you think he'll make his move?" I asked.

                "Some point during the school day. If I get taken out in handcuffs, he'll want the whole school to see it," Tyson said. "He'd probably call my parents down, too. I'm sure the sick fuck would love to watch my mom's expression when she sees her accident being led away by the cops."

                "Hey!"

                We looked over as Connor hurried up to us. He was wearing glasses, hands gripping the straps of his bag.

                "Where are your contacts?" Tyson asked.

                "I couldn't...my hands were shaking," Connor said. He looked nervous and jumpy. "I had a headache, though. I didn't want to leave without something clearing my vision."

                "That, and you can't legally drive without something clearing your vision," Farren said.

                Tyson raised an eyebrow. "No way. Where's the rat?"

                "Home," Connor said, looking even more anxious as his hand pat at his bag. "If something went wrong, I didn't want them to hurt him. He was scared."

                "Yea, sure," Tyson said. He snatched Connor's phone from him and hit the home button, tossing it back to Connor. "Just stare at his picture until you stop looking like you're going through withdrawal."

                Connor stared at his lock screen, which was indeed a picture of Jonesy. We started walking down the hallway again.

                "Figured we'd find you here," Nyssa said. She and Talon were waiting at the end of the hallway.

                "The gang's all here. Great, I love being annoyed this early in the morning," Tyson said.

                The six of us walked the hallways together in silence, roaming aimlessly. We were all very aware of just how today could go, and any time we had together, we were going to take advantage of.

                But the bell rang and we all nodded at each other before heading off for class. I listened hard for any rumors of the revenge service hitting Mallory, but heard nothing. He must be keeping it under wraps.

                With every passing class, I felt my own anxiety starting to creep towards Connor's level. What if he was only going to call down Tyson? What if he waited until another day to strike? What if he let us think he'd given up, and hit us when our guards were down?

                We thought it'd be so simple. We hit him, and he makes a move the next day. But this was a man who'd carefully led Tyson's mother on for so long, while also maintaining a seemingly honest relationship with his fiancée. He'd spent the past 17 years keeping a watchful eye over Tyson and his family without anyone catching on to his relationship to them. He was careful and calculated.

                I tried to focus on my lessons and lectures, but I just couldn't. I was too worried about Tyson. For all I knew, I could be taking notes while he was being shoved into a cop car.

                Even if Tyson did out Mallory as his father, it wouldn't change the trouble Tyson was in. It would only drag Mallory down with him. The threat only held if Mallory let it.

                When the final bell rang, I hurried to my locker to exchange my things. I made my way to the Social Action room, seeing Bishopp, Connor, and the twins in there. But no sign of Tyson or Farren.

                Bishopp looked up as I entered. "I haven't heard anything about the police being here today. But if they suspect me, they might be keeping me in the dark."

                "He and Farren were fine last time we saw them," Nyssa said. "But I don't know if anything happened since then."

                "They're probably fine," Talon said, but he didn't say it with his usual dismissive tone. "Why would they only call those two down? Why not all of us?"

                "Talon has a point. Let's not panic. Sometimes Tyson is a little late to meetings," Bishopp said, checking the time.

                Relief poured over me as Tyson and Farren entered the room together. Tyson's eye looked around until it came to rest on me, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

                "We're all still alive, I see," Tyson said.

                "He might not act today," Farren said.

                "We're all still alive and optimistic, I see," Tyson said.

                "What now?" Connor asked, clutching his phone in his hands.

                "Now we wait. There's nothing else for us to do," Tyson said with a shrug. I knew he was just as nervous as the rest of us, but he hid it well to ease our anxiety. "No meeting today. Connor looks like he's going to die if he doesn't have that rat in his hands in the next ten minutes. Besides, I promised my parents I'd help them bake today."

                "Tyson, is there anything else we can do to stop him from going to the cops?" Bishopp asked.

                Tyson shook his head. "Nothing. But I have been using my time fairly wisely. I went over some possible candidates for future Social Action Club members last night. We'll talk tomorrow, Bishopp."

                I glared a little. He hadn't done that when I was with him, which explained why he looked so exhausted right now.

                "I'll see if I can get any information out of my dad," Farren said.

                "So it's a waiting game now, huh? I never was very patient," Talon said.

                "Keep a cool head and don't do anything until Mallory makes a move," Tyson said. "Once we know his game, we'll go from there. If we're not going to spend time with a judge and jury, I want to do one last revenge job before we close up shop for good."

                "Come on, Tal. We can go to the gym and workout," Nyssa said.

                "Now you're speaking my language, Nys," Talon said, grinning and getting up. "Bet I can bench more than you."

                "In your dreams," Nyssa said, also getting up. She looked over at Tyson. "Call us if anything happens. I wouldn't mind punching Mallory in the face as a warmup."

                "Prepare for trouble and make it double," Talon said, punching his fist against his palm. "I'd love to deck that guy right across the jaw."

                "Don't mess up his face too much. We need it to prove I'm his," Tyson said, gesturing to his own jaw. "But once we have that proven, beat him unrecognizable. I won't protest."

                Bishopp laughed a little and shook his head. "I can't believe that the charming freshman kid from my study hall would drag me into a situation like this."

                "Hey, you agreed to be our teacher advisor," Tyson reminded.

                "It was probably a mistake, but I can't say I regret it." Bishopp got up and grabbed his stuff. "I'll see you guys tomorrow. I think I'll act my age and go out to the bar tonight. God knows I need a drink."

                "A drink or two or ten," Tyson said. He dug in his bag and flicked $5 at Bishopp. "Have one or two on me."

                Bishopp tried to push the money back into Tyson's hands, but Tyson stepped back. He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall and pointing at the door.

                "Out. I'm not generous often. Take it while you can," he said.

                "I never would've pegged you as a problem student," Bishopp said, but he pat Tyson's shoulder on his way out.

                "Catch you later, Ty," Talon said as he and Nyssa left.

                "Go on. Go see your dog," Tyson said to Connor. "Congratulations on making it through the day without him."

                "It's not something I want to try again for a while," Connor said, getting up and heading for the door.

                "But you did it," Tyson said.

                "I guess I did. I'm going to go hug him and tell him I'll never leave him again," Connor said, scurrying out of the room.

                "They've all got a way to go," Farren said with a sigh. "But you did it. You got Connor to leave his dog at home without having a mental breakdown, and you got Talon to worry about someone other than himself or his sister."

                "And I got you to go against your selfish instincts, you prick," Tyson said.

                "I'm not selfish. I'm just logical," Farren said. He shrugged at Tyson. "If we're not in jail, we're having chicken this weekend. Bring Nolan. Let him try it."

                "No way, then I have to share it," Tyson said. "Saturday night?"

                "I'll tell dad to fire up the grill. See you guys," Farren said, leaving us alone in the room.

                "There's another reason you called the meeting off, isn't there?" I said.

                "Let's go out the front door this time," he said, heading out the door.

                I followed him, walking alongside him. I had a guess of what he was doing, and I had no idea if it would end well.

                Sure enough, Tyson slowed his steps as we neared the office. The door opened and Mallory stepped out, looking down at his phone. Tyson steeled himself and took a loud step forward.

                Mallory turned, anger and disgust hitting his face at the sight of Tyson. Tyson sliced a bitter grin across his face.

                "All I really got were her eyes, and I couldn't even keep both of them," he said. "Blackmail is the only relationship we'll ever have."

                "I don't know what you're talking about," Mallory said coldly. "You're just that delinquent brat who runs a cover-up group."

                "'Social menace' was the term I believe you used," Tyson said. "It's over for both of us. I'll shut my mouth if you shut yours. I'll stay away from your family if you stay away from mine. Your other son really should clean out the mess under his bed."

                Tyson walked past Mallory towards the front door. Mallory looked like he wanted nothing more than to kill Tyson on the spot, but he didn't make a move towards him.

                "I might've lied when I said your son was a good kid. He's got a good heart, but a shit attitude. Good thing his parents raised him right," I said as I walked past Mallory.

                We left the school and walked down to the parking lot. Tyson leaned against his car, pinching the bridge of his nose.

                "That's the first conversation I've ever had with my own father," he said at last. "Probably the last, too."

                "You're really going to keep it a secret?" I asked.

                Tyson shook his head. "No. But I'll wait until his kids are out of the house to go to college. I don't want them to see the nasty shit that'll go down when Mallory's wife knows the truth. I won't let him get away with this. By the time I out him, it'll be too late for his blackmail to work against me. Everyone will have forgotten about the revenge service by the time his daughter is away from home."

                "He doesn't deserve the life he has," I said.

                "He won't get to keep it. It's not fair to his wife, his kids, or my mom," Tyson said. "He did horrible things, and I won't protect him. But I will protect Simon and Carly. I'll give them their childhoods with a full family before I tell the truth of what happened."

                "You're not as bad as you pretend to be," I said, offering my hand to him.

                He took it in his. "He was angry, but it's over. He knows I'm serious. And he knows if it gets out that he has a bastard, a little brat conceived when he was engaged, it'll wreck his career and his family. He'd never recover from that getting out."

                "So we're safe?" I said.

                Tyson nodded. "We are. I'll tell the others." He looked down at our hands. "I've spent the last four years so focused on revenge, and now I have it."

                "Build something new for yourself," I said. "Build something more stable."

                He squeezed my hand. "I think I already did."

                "Good thing you didn't 'cast you out, outcast'," I teased.

                He dropped my hand, glaring at me. "I found a new revenge goal."

                "You're going home now, right? Baking and all that," I said.

                He reached out and caught my tie, pulling me forward so he could kiss me. "You're coming with me. We're going to learn how to bake together."

                We got in our cars and drove to Tyson's house. He led me inside, where his parents were waiting in the kitchen.

                "Oh, you brought Nolan!" Mrs. Strazio said, perking up.

                "Why do I get the feeling you like him more than me?" Tyson said.

                "Because he doesn't throw clean clothes on the floor," Mrs. Strazio said. "Go get changed. I don't want you getting food all over your uniform. Let Nolan borrow clothes."

                "Is it alright that I'm here? I don't want to interrupt your family time," I said.

                "It's fine! Since you're not living at home this year, we'll take on the job of teaching you how to bake," Mrs. Strazio said, leaning against her husband. "I won't even threaten to kill you if you drop food on the floor, deal?"

                I laughed. "Deal. Thank you."

                Tyson and I went upstairs, Tyson tossing me clothes to change into. I pulled my blazer, tie, and shirt off, setting them on Tyson's bed. He came over, his own chest bare.

                "Someday," he said, kissing my shoulder before pushing a shirt into my hands.

                "Someday," I agreed, and pulled the shirt on.

                Once we were changed, we went downstairs to where his parents were. His dad put on music as we got to work, trying to bake cookies and cupcakes together.

                We made a mess, but we laughed as we did it. His parents started a chocolate chip war with us, which accomplished nothing but wasting a bag of chocolate chips and making a mess of the floor. It left the two of us hiding behind chairs, and Tyson's parents hiding behind the counter.

                "I'm not being bested by my own son," Mrs. Strazio said, chucking a handful of chocolate chips at Tyson.

                "Your aim sucks, and that's coming from the guy with one freaking eye!" Tyson said, throwing chocolate chips right back at her.

                "Surrender or we tell Nolan all your embarrassing childhood stories," Mr. Strazio threatened.

                Tyson peeked his head out so he could narrow his eyes at them. "You wouldn't dare."

                "Let's see; there was that time when you were little and you slipped on ice outside of the store, and you made me wait outside with you while you were crying so you could..." Mr. Strazio started.

                "Stop, stop, I surrender!" Tyson said, throwing his hands up and coming out from behind the chair. "You're going to give me emotional trauma if you keep talking."

                Mr. and Mrs. Strazio grinned at each other before lurching out from their hiding place. Mr. Strazio restrained Tyson's arms so Mrs. Strazio could pour the rest of the chocolate chips on him.

                "You lying fiends," Tyson said, trying to struggle out of his dad's grasp. "I trusted you."

                "Wait, I want to know how that story ends," I said, poking my head out from my hiding place. "Preferably without getting attacked."

                "Right, so it was December and I brought Ty to the store with me. There was this old lady inside that Tyson was talking up a storm to and trying to help her shop. So we checkout and leave the store, and I wasn't holding Ty's hand because I had the bags. And Tyson slips on a patch of ice, takes a pretty nasty fall, and started crying. I set my groceries down to make sure he's okay, and he made me stand out there comforting him so he could warn that old lady about the ice when she came outside. Tyson had me set him down so he could help her walk to her car, all while he's still crying from his fall," Mr. Strazio said, ruffling Tyson's hair. "He hates when people know how nice he used to be."

                "I was little," Tyson grumbled.

                "He was...five or six? Bruised himself pretty badly with that ice. I put his favorite blanket in the dryer when we got home and wrapped him up in it to make him feel better," Mr. Strazio said.

                "See, my son used to have a heart," Mrs. Strazio said to me. "Not so much anymore. Puberty sucked the soul right out of him." She laughed at Tyson's expression. "I'm kidding, mostly. I know you'd still help an old lady to her car even while injured and crying. You're a pain in the ass, but you're a good kid."

                "If I slipped on ice, he'd just laugh at me," I said.

                "Well, you're not an old lady," Tyson said.

                I rolled my eyes at him, but smiled. Tyson was a good person, I didn't need a story to know that. But hearing about how patient and kind his dad had been with him growing up, it warmed my heart.

                I was glad Mallory had taken himself out of Tyson's life. A sick man like Mallory didn't deserve a good son like Tyson. He would've been bad for Tyson, probably resenting him for being born.

                Instead, Tyson got to be raised by a mother and father who loved him and wanted the best for him. I knew it would always hurt him inside, the knowledge of what Mallory had done and how Mallory felt about him. But he had a mom and dad who would wrap him in a warm blanket and make sure he was okay at the end of the day.

                I stepped forward as Mr. Strazio gave Tyson a one-armed hug and brushed chocolate chips out of Tyson's hair. Tyson moved over to me and I plucked a chocolate chip off his shoulder.

                "It's a familiar place, but it's not the one I've been in since I found out what Mallory did to my mom," he said quietly.

                I kissed his cheek. "Let's bake. And keep your focus full. You never know when your parents are going to attack."

                "Let's go! We need to get this done so we can make an actual dinner," Mrs. Strazio said.

                "I'm thinking pizza. Look at this mess our son and his boyfriend made," Mr. Strazio said, gesturing to the kitchen.

                Tyson snorted. "Oh, sure, it's my mess. You threw the first chocolate chip and declared war, dad."

                "Remember, I can ground you whenever I want," Mr. Strazio said pleasantly. "Now, come help us bake. We're down a bag of chocolate chips, but we can make it work."

                We went over to his parents, who both patiently taught us how to bake. Tyson smiled at me, and it wasn't his cocky grin or his dazzling smile. It was a pure, genuine smile that was nothing less than purely inherited from his mother. It was happiness and love and the promise of a warm blanket to soothe the pain. It was chocolate chip wars and kisses by the pond. It was Tyson Strazio, all masks off and only the truth laid bare.

                I held my hand out to Tyson, covered in flour and bits of dough. Tyson didn't hesitate to reach out and grab it, that smile lighting up a room already full of love and laughter and healing.