I checked my appearance in the mirror and fixed my hair. It was Saturday, and I had to head out soon so I wouldn't be late meeting the others at the bake sale.

                Tyson had emailed me the schedule and what I'd be doing. It seemed like I'd be spending most of the day working the raffle booth with Farren. I'd just have to be friendly and try to convince people to buy raffle tickets. That didn't seem too hard.

                I winced as I accidentally hit a bruise on my arm. I hadn't been able to avoid Drew all week, and yesterday at lunch, he'd grabbed me too roughly.

                Oh, god, I hoped he wasn't at the bake sale. The last thing I needed was for him to kick my ass in front of everyone there.

                Checking the time, I pulled my shoes on and left the house. Brian was already gone, off to get coffee with a friend before work. I got in my car, putting the destination in my GPS and heading for the venue the bake sale was at.

                Since we were here early to set up, there was no struggle finding a parking spot. I got out of my car and went into the venue. I was surprised that the bake sale was inside, but apparently, they were also having a few small, local business hold tables and had been worried about the weather.

                I followed the hallway down to a fairly large room. Plain tables were being set up around the room.

                "Hey, the outcast is here!"

                Talon's voice came from above me. I looked up, my eyes widening a little. He and Nyssa were up on high ladders, hanging a banner from the ceiling. Neither seemed concerned by the distance between them and the ground.

                "Hi. High. Hi, you're high up," I said.

                "Word play, I like it. Someone had to risk their life to hang this banner," Talon said.

                "Shut up and finish tying it, Talon," Nyssa said, giving the banner an impatient shake.

                "Hey, you're here. Come with me; we'll get the raffle table set up," Farren said, coming up to me. "Ty! Ty, Nolan is here."

                "Noted," a muffled voice called from behind a door.

                Farren led me back out in the hallway, where a table was set up with a box next to it. Farren took out a sign that announced the raffle and the prices, handing it to me with some tape.

                "Get that centered," he said, digging through the box. "I'll do most of the talking. But if I'm not at the table for some reason, it's up to you to pester every person heading inside to buy a raffle ticket. The prize is an iPad and a gift basket, with second and third place also being gift baskets of varying worth."

                I taped up the sign as Farren began setting up the table. He slung a cloth over it, setting up a lockbox for the money along with the raffle tickets. He unlocked the lockbox and tucked the key into his pocket. He handed me a volunteer nametag sticker with my name on it, which I stuck to my shirt.

                "Go grab us chairs out of the main room. Just take the first two chairs you see in there," he said.

                I went back into the main room, grabbing two of the folding chairs leaned against the wall. I unfolded them and set them at the table, and Farren nodded in approval.

                "Let's help the others get everything set up," he said.

                We went into the main room. Tyson was putting cloths over the tables as the twins continued hanging decorations around the walls and from the ceiling. Connor was sitting in a corner fidgeting around with a camera.

                "We're good on our end," Farren said to Tyson.

                "No one else is. The twins made up a floor plan. Check it and do something useful," Tyson said.

                Farren searched until he found a hand drawn map of the room, detailed with what tables went where. He instructed me on what to do and the two of us helped Tyson set up the tables. Bishopp showed up a few minutes later and got to work helping us.

                As it got later, a few people started arriving to set up their stuff and fix their tables. We did anything we could to help until it was time for the doors to be open to the public. Farren and I went back to our table, taking a seat and watching the hallway as people started to enter.

                "Let me handle the first few. I'll test your salesman abilities in a little," Farren said as a couple approached. He slapped a charming smile on his face. "Hello, welcome to the hurricane relief bake sale! We're raffling away some great prizes tonight, including an iPad. All the money goes towards helping hurricane victims."

                "Oh, I recognize you!" the woman said. "Corr's boy, right?"

                "Yes ma'am," Farren said, smile growing. "My father and several of his coworkers donated baked goods for today's sale. There's a table with goods from the police officers just inside."

                "We'd buy a raffle ticket, but we already have an iPad," the man said.

                "You could win a second and gift it to someone," Farren suggested. "There's also a fantastic gift basket that goes along with it. Gift cards, delicious snacks, and other prizes inside."

                "Well, no harm in trying for luck," the woman said, pulling out her wallet. "We'll take the five ticket bundle."

                "Thank you so much. You're donating to a great cause here," Farren said, tearing off the tickets and handing them to her. "Enjoy the bake sale."

                "You're a smooth talker," I said once the couple had disappeared inside the main room.

                Farren dropped the other half of their tickets into a bucket. "Hey, people are easy to swindle. Make them think it's for the greater good and that it benefits them. I don't even know what's in those gift baskets, I just remember Tyson mentioning something about gift cards and snacks." His charming smile was gone as he flicked through the money she'd given him and dropped it into the box. "Let's see how much I can get off them this time."

                "You're enjoying this way too much," I said.

                He grinned a little. "I like a little challenge."

                He wasn't kidding. Each person that passed by, Farren had that charming smile and reassuring words for them. He changed up his tactic depending on their gender, age, and if he knew them or not. Some seemed excited to see the "Corr boy", while others smiled politely and listened as he convinced them to hand over their money. I was a little afraid and a little impressed by the amount of tickets he managed to sell.

                After nearly two hours, he leaned back over the chair to stretch. "I'm going to head inside and see how they're doing. You're in charge of selling the raffle tickets while I'm gone."

                "I doubt I can live up to you," I said.

                "Try." He pat my shoulder before heading into the main room.

                So I did. As people came in, I smiled and cheerfully told them what the raffle was for and what they could win. I didn't have Farren's charm or familiar surname, but I did manage to sell a few tickets.

                The cheerful smile dropped off my face as I watched the three familiar faces walking down the hallway though. Oh, shit.

                Drew and his friends, Kayla and Marco, approached me. Drew eyed me with distaste.

                "Volunteering for the Social Action Club?" he said.

                "I'm a member of the club," I said.

                They all looked shocked. Drew shook his head, his shock turning to anger.

                "That's impossible," he said. "They don't let any other students into the club. It's been the same five since it was founded."

                "Egotistical assholes," Kayla grumbled. "They keep the club small and take all the credit so they look good."

                "How did you get in?" Drew demanded.

                "The door," I said.

                He slammed the table with his hip so that it hit me in the stomach and I winced. "You know what I meant. Don't play dumb. How did you get into that club?"

                "Ow, don't break my stomach over it," I groaned. "My academic advisor spoke with the teacher advisor to the club and got me in. I'm the chosen one. Call me Harry Potter. Oh god, just don't give me the scar to go along with that name. Forget I ever said anything."

                "Problem out here, Nolan?"

                The three looked up at Tyson. He was leaning in the doorway, eyebrow raised as he watched the scene.

                "I'll ask you not to assault a club member," Tyson said, pushing away from the doorway. "I'll also ask you to either buy a raffle ticket or get out of my sight."

                "You're not better than everyone else, Strazio," Kayla said.

                "That's the thing; I'm not better than everyone else, but I'm better than you." He grinned and gestured to the main room. "Go buy some baked goods, friends. It'll lighten your moods. Or not. Either way, it'll get you away from me."

                They shot him dirty looks but went into the main room. Tyson took Farren's seat and looked at the money in the lockbox, letting out a whistle.

                "Farren's running his mouth again," he said, leafing through the bills in there. "Not bad, not bad."

                "He's good at it," I said.

                "He's a convincing person." Tyson glanced over his shoulder before facing me. "They always give you problems?"

                "Mostly Drew," I said with a sigh. "It's fine, I can handle it."

                "You know, there's a rumor around school that for the right price, bullies get taken care of," Tyson said, voice low.

                "I hope you don't mean there's a hit service for bullies," I said.

                He shook his head. "No, not a hit service. A revenge service. They say if you're getting bullied, you can pay to have someone take revenge on them. No one knows who does the revenge, but it's happened plenty of times."

                "Revenge?" I frowned. "What kind of revenge?"

                Tyson shrugged. "Private humiliation, public humiliation...rumor has it, you leave a note of what they've done to you and what you want done to them. It gets taken care of."

                "That can't be real," I said in disbelief.

                "It is," he insisted. "Ask around. Plenty of bullies suffered from this revenge thing."

                "That's..." What, crazy? "Two wrongs don't make a right. No one gets hurt, right?"

                "Not that I've heard of," Tyson said, shaking his head. "Just a little eye for an eye embarrassment."

                "I...I guess that's not..." I stopped and thought for a moment. "I know when it comes to bullying, you should try to be the bigger person. But sometimes that doesn't work, or just pushes it onto someone else. As long as no one is getting hurt in any way, maybe teaching a bully a lesson isn't that bad of a thing.

"

                Tyson smirked, just a little. "Someone gets it. Think it over."

                He got up and went back into the main room. I sold a few more tickets before Farren came back out and sat down, setting a small bag of cookies between us.

                "Help yourself," he said. "Complimentary bag from the police table."

                "Your dad's a cop?" I said, picking up a cookie.

                Farren nodded. "Officer Corr, beloved policeman around the town."

                "Farren...is it true that there's a revenge thing around the school?" I asked.

                "Feeling blue, twenty will do," he quoted. "That's the saying. If you decode it, you can hire the revenge service around school. Or so the rumor goes. Pretty solid rumor, though. Lots of solid evidence the revenge thing really exists."

                "So people like Drew are targets? How have they not found out who's behind it?" I said.

                "Because the people who want the service are incredibly secretive about it. If they find out how the riddle works, they guard the answer. If they think someone is catching on, they warn whoever is behind it. They want the bullies taken care of," Farren said.

                "I'd never heard of it until Tyson said something," I said.

                "That's because only idiots talk about it openly. The school has been trying to figure out who's behind it. Cops, too. Whoever is behind it has some trespassing on their hands," Farren said.

                "That's insane," I said. "How could something like that even work without anyone finding out who's behind it?"

                Farren shrugged. "Good question."

                He was distracted as he tried to convince a few people entering to buy raffle tickets. We ate the cookies he'd bought and he told me a little about the past fundraisers the club had done.

                Farren let me take a break at one point to walk around and check out the fundraiser. I'd brought money with me to buy Brian the baked goods he wanted from Talon's and Nyssa's grandma.

                "Hi," I said, finding a table with several older people at it. They looked like they ranged from their 60s to their 90s. I was a little concerned some of them might drop dead at any second. "Is anyone here the grandma of the Social Action Club's twins?"

                "That would be me!" One of the younger people at the table moved forward, looking like she was in her 60s or 70s. "I'm their grandma. What can I do for you?"

                "I'm Brian Montanari's nephew. He wanted me to get baked goods from you," I said.

                "A Monty!" she said. "I know your family. Tell you what, I'll sell you some of my brownies for half price, just for Brian."

                "Cutting deals?"

                I looked over my shoulder as Tyson approached. The twin's grandma waved her hand dismissively.

                "Oh, you, piss off. I'll run my business how I want. They're my brownies," she said. "Go harass my grandson. I heard he keeps taking his clothes off at random times. Whack some sense into that boy for me." She handed me a bag with brownies in it, taking my money. "Run along, you."

                "Always a pleasure," Tyson said, guiding me away from her. "That whole family is a headache to deal with. I hope you don't have plans of running out of here when it ends. The volunteers will do most of the cleanup for us, but the club itself has a quick meeting in the backroom to go over how the sale went."

                I checked the time. "It's almost over. I noticed it was starting to clear out. It had a big turnout."

                "We're pushy advertisers with all sorts of connections. I have a theory that Farren's dad pulls people over and instead of giving them tickets, he gives them flyers for our events," Tyson said. "Anyways, get back to work. I'll see you in a bit, and we'll see if you pulled your weight."

                I went back to the table with Farren. The raffle happened just a little before the end of the sale, so we only sold a few more tickets before shutting down our table. I helped Farren put the table back in the storage room and carry the money and leftover tickets to the backroom we were having our meeting in.

                Farren took a seat once we were in the backroom. "The volunteers will start picking up while we hold our meeting. No reason for us to go back out now that our jobs were done. You're a friendly guy. Not too bad at being a salesman."

                "I like people," I said with a shrug.

                "Someone has to," Farren said, taking out his phone and dropping the conversation.

                I sat down and waited a little while until the others came into the backroom. Once everyone was in, Bishopp shut the door.

                "We did well today," Tyson said. "A good turnout. We'll count up the money and report on the sales at the next meeting. Connor will go through his material and work with everyone to make sure our accounts are updated with pictures and videos."

                "We have other projects to get working on, Ty," Talon said.

                "I'm working on it. Everyone do your research and figure out topics for our next big project. Connor, I want a report on what we discussed," Tyson said.

                "Great work today, everyone. Tyson and Farren will stay behind to help load the decorations. Talon and Nyssa, you guys are free to go once you get the stuff down from the walls and ceiling. Connor and Nolan, you guys can head out now," Bishopp said.

                "I'll speak to Farren about your performance, outcast," Tyson said. "Get out of my sight, you two."

                "That's not hard to do," Connor said, picking up his bag and pulling it on.

                "You're lucky I didn't call you out for bringing the rat," Tyson said.

                Connor glared. "Fuck off. I don't need this abuse and neither does Jonesy. Goodbye."

                He left and I waved to the others before following after him. Connor didn't wait up for me, instead heading off to gather his equipment. The volunteers were moving around, taking down tables and packing things up.

                I left and went out to my car, getting in and leaving the parking lot. I'd like to think I did pretty well to help Farren today. Surely he'd have fairly decent things to say about me to Tyson.

                I drove myself back to Brian's and got out of the car. I went inside, a little surprised that he was actually home.

                "Here," I said, handing him the brownies. "The twin's grandma seemed to know the family."

                "Friends with my parents," Brian said, setting the brownies on the counter. He had the newspaper spread out in front of him, his eyes never leaving it.

                This conversation didn't seem to be going anywhere, so I just smiled at him and left the room. I went up to my room, sitting on the bed.

                It had been such a busy day. But of all the things my mind could be focused on, there was only one that was standing out.

                Feeling blue, twenty will do.