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TIMESTAMP: Throughout the day... just read.
@Hey Im Jordan@Melissa@LovelyComplex@smarty0114@Aces Away@Festive
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Some people used their time in homeroom to catch up on homework. Other’s, like Jamie and Decky, used it to catch up on old grudges. Before, Benji would’ve been one of the boys asking Ms. Belmonte about her plans for the weekend, in the vain hope that she might realize her life and career weren’t worth missing out on the charms of a seventeen year old. Now, he used it to listen to music, and text Athena Helmsley. Somehow, that felt like an even less realistic use of his time.
He’d known of Athena for years now, it was difficult not to. For the majority of their relationship however, their text thread had mostly consisted of Benji asking if she knew where Calli was. The switch happened in the early weeks of summer, while he wallowed in a miasma of self-pity, anger, and embarrassment. He was mad at his father for ruining his life. He was mad at his mother for retreating into herself, and he was mad at Aunt Gina for seeming completely unaffected by the whole thing. His phone was full of ignored texts from the Elite groupchat (affectionately named The Bois) and individual messages from Ethan and Mikey and Jack and everyone else in the world who wanted to make sure he hadn’t driven his car into the Pacific Ocean.
He still wasn’t sure why he’d responded to her more than her sister or any of his other friends. Maybe it was adolescent hormones or maybe it was just easier to talk to somebody who hadn’t really known him. Strangers were a lot harder to disappoint.
Whatever his reasons, he and the heiress had gotten close. Despite what people might’ve thought, they definitely weren’t sleeping together. He had assured Calli as much after he received an icy text, shortly before the school year started.“Scout’s honor, I will not bone your sister,” was the exact phrasing. He’d made a promise, and he was trying to keep those. They were friends, which is why he had edited the text he was drafting harder than Trixie peer reviewed English papers.
Finally, after an embarrassing amount of time spent staring at his phone, he pressed send.
Benji tapped his fingers against his desk, staring down at the blue bubble on his screen. Was that stupid? Of course she was coming to the game. He should’ve just said he’d see her there. Opted for confidence. Or he could’ve said nothing, like someone who had promised not to fuck his friends sister might do.
“Big weekend ahead, Benj. You ready?”
Jack’s voice cut through his music, startling him. He turned his phone over, hiding the screen, and looked over at Jack, his free hand coming up for the customary Elite handshake. “As I’ll ever be,” he said, dry and tired.“You know Ethan’s parents are gonna murder him if we fuck that place up tomorrow? They like, love that vineyard dude.”
Jack dapped up his bro before resting his feet on the back of the chair in front of him, receiving a dirty look from the person sitting there. “Pshh it’ll be fine. They know how high schoolers rage,” He interlocked his fingers and rested them on the back of his neck, leaning into his seat casually. “They’re practically inviting chaos by letting us use it. Besides, I haven’t seen Ethan ever get anything more than a slap on the wrist, he’ll be fiiiine.” The blonde reassured his friend. He was about to say something else, but the sound of Benji’s phone buzzing became audible. Jack raised a brow, “Oh, so your phone does work.” He sarcastically commented, still giving Benji a hard time from when he went AWOL this summer.
“Shut up,” Benji said, struggling to suppress a grin conjured up by the phone’s vibration. He flipped the phone back over and scanned the new message.
Benji looked back up, mind clearly down the hall. “Sorry what?” He blinked. “Oh, yeah. Party.” He shrugged, as though whatever consequences the party might bring were beyond his purview. After months of Aunt Gina’s birds, honestly, it felt like they would be. “I mean, I’ll take free booze. I just want my concerns noted, y’know, for the record.”
The blonde gave his friend a knowing look, “A bit distracted there, Benj?” He probed, hoping to get something out of him, anything really. Benji had been, well, different since everything had gone down with his family. Jack wanted his buddy back, the guy who was always up for anything, his partner-in-crime who would always be willing to make crazy mistakes with him. Maybe this weekend would be the return of some normalcy. “Consider them registered. But I’m telling you man, it’ll be smooth sailing.”
It most certainly would not be, but neither of them had any way of knowing that.
He’d known of Athena for years now, it was difficult not to. For the majority of their relationship however, their text thread had mostly consisted of Benji asking if she knew where Calli was. The switch happened in the early weeks of summer, while he wallowed in a miasma of self-pity, anger, and embarrassment. He was mad at his father for ruining his life. He was mad at his mother for retreating into herself, and he was mad at Aunt Gina for seeming completely unaffected by the whole thing. His phone was full of ignored texts from the Elite groupchat (affectionately named The Bois) and individual messages from Ethan and Mikey and Jack and everyone else in the world who wanted to make sure he hadn’t driven his car into the Pacific Ocean.
He still wasn’t sure why he’d responded to her more than her sister or any of his other friends. Maybe it was adolescent hormones or maybe it was just easier to talk to somebody who hadn’t really known him. Strangers were a lot harder to disappoint.
Whatever his reasons, he and the heiress had gotten close. Despite what people might’ve thought, they definitely weren’t sleeping together. He had assured Calli as much after he received an icy text, shortly before the school year started.“Scout’s honor, I will not bone your sister,” was the exact phrasing. He’d made a promise, and he was trying to keep those. They were friends, which is why he had edited the text he was drafting harder than Trixie peer reviewed English papers.
Finally, after an embarrassing amount of time spent staring at his phone, he pressed send.
To:Athena 👑
you coming to the game?
Benji tapped his fingers against his desk, staring down at the blue bubble on his screen. Was that stupid? Of course she was coming to the game. He should’ve just said he’d see her there. Opted for confidence. Or he could’ve said nothing, like someone who had promised not to fuck his friends sister might do.
“Big weekend ahead, Benj. You ready?”
Jack’s voice cut through his music, startling him. He turned his phone over, hiding the screen, and looked over at Jack, his free hand coming up for the customary Elite handshake. “As I’ll ever be,” he said, dry and tired.“You know Ethan’s parents are gonna murder him if we fuck that place up tomorrow? They like, love that vineyard dude.”
Jack dapped up his bro before resting his feet on the back of the chair in front of him, receiving a dirty look from the person sitting there. “Pshh it’ll be fine. They know how high schoolers rage,” He interlocked his fingers and rested them on the back of his neck, leaning into his seat casually. “They’re practically inviting chaos by letting us use it. Besides, I haven’t seen Ethan ever get anything more than a slap on the wrist, he’ll be fiiiine.” The blonde reassured his friend. He was about to say something else, but the sound of Benji’s phone buzzing became audible. Jack raised a brow, “Oh, so your phone does work.” He sarcastically commented, still giving Benji a hard time from when he went AWOL this summer.
“Shut up,” Benji said, struggling to suppress a grin conjured up by the phone’s vibration. He flipped the phone back over and scanned the new message.
From:Athena 👑
yesss I’ll be there !!
a little birdy told me you were in the starting line up! you’ll be great :)
and it definitely wasn’t george michael, just so we’re clear lol
To: Athena 👑
I hope not
If the birds start talking too, i might have to call it quits
Benji looked back up, mind clearly down the hall. “Sorry what?” He blinked. “Oh, yeah. Party.” He shrugged, as though whatever consequences the party might bring were beyond his purview. After months of Aunt Gina’s birds, honestly, it felt like they would be. “I mean, I’ll take free booze. I just want my concerns noted, y’know, for the record.”
The blonde gave his friend a knowing look, “A bit distracted there, Benj?” He probed, hoping to get something out of him, anything really. Benji had been, well, different since everything had gone down with his family. Jack wanted his buddy back, the guy who was always up for anything, his partner-in-crime who would always be willing to make crazy mistakes with him. Maybe this weekend would be the return of some normalcy. “Consider them registered. But I’m telling you man, it’ll be smooth sailing.”
It most certainly would not be, but neither of them had any way of knowing that.
They got through homeroom thanks to discussions of hockey plays, and a lively debate about whether one great white could win against a troop of fifty bears. Benji argued for the shark. “Bro, the shark would never even come onto the bears’ turf, I don’t care how many of them there are–YO MIKEY!” Their conversation had pulled Benji from his shell, so much so that he didn’t even think twice about projecting his voice down the hall as Michael O’Connor turned a corner.
Mikey was in the zone. In his opinion, he had made what was essentially the deal of the century. And part of it was already done! Mikey even reckoned finding Nicky a date was going to be the hard part of the whole deal, so he was really chilling with that out of the way. Sara was perfect, they were going to be the cutest couple ever and MIkey was going to be sure they had a most excellent time at the party. Probably. He wasn’t like, one hundred percent positive they could hang with him and the lads, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.
Benji yelling quickly snapped him out of the zone. There was confusion on his face; he hadn’t spent time with Benji in a while, since Benji had opted to go the way of Bruce Wayne in The Dark Knight Rises and disappear into the sunset. “Dude, Benny what’s up! Man, I would have thought you were dead if it weren’t for you leaving me on read.” He quickly closed the gap between himself and his two friends, and couldn’t help himself. Once he was close enough, he wrapped Benji up in a tight bear hug. “I knew you’d come if I lit the beacon!” He beamed widely as he broke away from the embrace and looked over at Jack.
“There’s not a single other motherfucker in the whole student body who I could see being the distraction other than Benji here. We are locked the fuck in.” This was like the Beatles getting back together, or when Iron Man decided he would break the law of time. Michael, of course, was just assuming that Benji had read the text message he’d sent The Bois earlier, detailing his ‘plan.’ The plan basically consisted of Benji distracting the administration while Mikey, Jack, and Ethan broke into the principal’s office and acquired a long-since confiscated megaphone. Easy money.
Jack extended his arm, fist bumping his buddy, “Let’s fucking gooo,” He responded excitedly, looking from Mikey to Benji with a mischievous grin. When Mikey had texted the group his idea, Jack was immediately invested, ready to bend the rules to get shit done for his friend. Although the boy had been reminded excessively by his coaches to stay out of trouble for the next few months, this was harmless fun. Plus, with such an elaborate scheme, there was no way they’d get caught! “This is gonna be great, Benj you’ve got this bro.”
The football player screwed up his face, confused. He’d just been trying to say hi. “Bro what the fu–” his voice trailed off as he read the text from Mikey, requesting their help. Damn, he really needed to pay better attention to messages not from Athena. “Why the hell do we need to steal a megaphone anyways?” Benji asked, suddenly skeptical. “And why do I have to be the distraction?”
“Well, the thing is… I told this kid if he got me a win in Fortnite, I’d get him a date and let him and the date chill with us at the party. I did that already, but I also told him we’d steal his buddy’s megaphone back. Apparently, it’s a pretty big deal that they don’t have it. It’s important, dude.” Michael shrugged, not thinking he needed to explain his reasoning much further than that. He needed the megaphone, and his best bros were honor bound to help him get it. The distraction part? Oh, that was easy. He beamed a wide toothy grin as he boasted his explanation, “Dude you may have been a lil quiet lately, but that doesn’t change nothing. Nobody is more distracting than Big fuckin’ Ben! We just need you to be like, Benji our loudest friend again and not Benjamin the guy who mopes in the fuckin’ corner. Think you can handle that, for like 20 minutes?”
Benji sighed, but the smile creeping up his face betrayed some genuine amusement. It was surprisingly easy to fall back into the Benji of yesteryear when he was surrounded by his friends. Perhaps that’s why he’d avoided them for so long. “Okay, fine, but we’re gonna need some walkie talkies. They set the tone.” He furrowed his brow as he began churning through possible ways to divert attention from the principal’s office, and her assortment of confiscated materials. “How big of a distraction are we talking here? Great Food Fight of 2021? Also, where are you gonna get a key?”
“Oh, he’s back alright. This is going to be epic.”
Mikey was in the zone. In his opinion, he had made what was essentially the deal of the century. And part of it was already done! Mikey even reckoned finding Nicky a date was going to be the hard part of the whole deal, so he was really chilling with that out of the way. Sara was perfect, they were going to be the cutest couple ever and MIkey was going to be sure they had a most excellent time at the party. Probably. He wasn’t like, one hundred percent positive they could hang with him and the lads, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.
Benji yelling quickly snapped him out of the zone. There was confusion on his face; he hadn’t spent time with Benji in a while, since Benji had opted to go the way of Bruce Wayne in The Dark Knight Rises and disappear into the sunset. “Dude, Benny what’s up! Man, I would have thought you were dead if it weren’t for you leaving me on read.” He quickly closed the gap between himself and his two friends, and couldn’t help himself. Once he was close enough, he wrapped Benji up in a tight bear hug. “I knew you’d come if I lit the beacon!” He beamed widely as he broke away from the embrace and looked over at Jack.
“There’s not a single other motherfucker in the whole student body who I could see being the distraction other than Benji here. We are locked the fuck in.” This was like the Beatles getting back together, or when Iron Man decided he would break the law of time. Michael, of course, was just assuming that Benji had read the text message he’d sent The Bois earlier, detailing his ‘plan.’ The plan basically consisted of Benji distracting the administration while Mikey, Jack, and Ethan broke into the principal’s office and acquired a long-since confiscated megaphone. Easy money.
Jack extended his arm, fist bumping his buddy, “Let’s fucking gooo,” He responded excitedly, looking from Mikey to Benji with a mischievous grin. When Mikey had texted the group his idea, Jack was immediately invested, ready to bend the rules to get shit done for his friend. Although the boy had been reminded excessively by his coaches to stay out of trouble for the next few months, this was harmless fun. Plus, with such an elaborate scheme, there was no way they’d get caught! “This is gonna be great, Benj you’ve got this bro.”
The football player screwed up his face, confused. He’d just been trying to say hi. “Bro what the fu–” his voice trailed off as he read the text from Mikey, requesting their help. Damn, he really needed to pay better attention to messages not from Athena. “Why the hell do we need to steal a megaphone anyways?” Benji asked, suddenly skeptical. “And why do I have to be the distraction?”
“Well, the thing is… I told this kid if he got me a win in Fortnite, I’d get him a date and let him and the date chill with us at the party. I did that already, but I also told him we’d steal his buddy’s megaphone back. Apparently, it’s a pretty big deal that they don’t have it. It’s important, dude.” Michael shrugged, not thinking he needed to explain his reasoning much further than that. He needed the megaphone, and his best bros were honor bound to help him get it. The distraction part? Oh, that was easy. He beamed a wide toothy grin as he boasted his explanation, “Dude you may have been a lil quiet lately, but that doesn’t change nothing. Nobody is more distracting than Big fuckin’ Ben! We just need you to be like, Benji our loudest friend again and not Benjamin the guy who mopes in the fuckin’ corner. Think you can handle that, for like 20 minutes?”
Benji sighed, but the smile creeping up his face betrayed some genuine amusement. It was surprisingly easy to fall back into the Benji of yesteryear when he was surrounded by his friends. Perhaps that’s why he’d avoided them for so long. “Okay, fine, but we’re gonna need some walkie talkies. They set the tone.” He furrowed his brow as he began churning through possible ways to divert attention from the principal’s office, and her assortment of confiscated materials. “How big of a distraction are we talking here? Great Food Fight of 2021? Also, where are you gonna get a key?”
“Oh, he’s back alright. This is going to be epic.”
Kisho worked his jaw repeatedly on the near silent walk from math class to the baseball shed, teeth grinding harshly as he drowned anything other than Álvaro’s presence out with the music blasting from his headphones. His fellow soccer player was not one of his favorite people, and while that was normally fine outside of the soccer field, they didn’t often have to be completely alone together. Yet, here the two were, making their way from class to rendezvous point with the rest of the Elite, and it’s taking everything in him not to race ahead in the small hope that he and the other accented Elite weren’t the first to make it. Unfortunately for the slighter boy, he could see the shed in the distance and there was no one there waving enthusiastically towards them, no other friends in their group as punctual as the oil and royal heirs. Kisho’s already short patience wavered at the empty sight, and his blank face finally fell into a frown as his disappointment showed.
“Damn it all,” He grumbled, not as quiet as he believed it to be because of how loud his music was in his ears. He checked his phone impatiently as they pulled up to the shed and sighed at the lack of activity in the groupchat. It must mean everyone’s on their way, at least. I’m not alone with Theo, at least, he thought in a vain attempt to boost his spirits. Small mercies, lesser evils.
“Ay Dios mío (Oh my God), quit it with the teeth grinding.” Hate. There were no bounds to the level of hate Álvaro held within his morsel of a heart. Across the three languages he spoke, none of the words could quite describe the hate he felt towards Kisho. Around the group, he could keep it contained, like a shaken soda bottle, sealed but ready to blow. But now, alone? He didn’t need to pull his punches.
It was as if the little common boy knew exactly how to make him tick; there was yet another offensive to Álvaro, he couldn’t respect the tranquility of silence. Álvaro leaned his back against the shed, softly tapping his boots onto the dirt below. Álvaro wasn’t one unfamiliar with patience, although he held none for the black hair prole that lay before him. He must have been too caught up in whatever abomination of sounds Álvaro could hear spilling out from the oddly constructed headphones he wore, the only thing that could explain such a blatant display of disrespect to some as regal as himself. As Álvaro approached the boy from the side the size difference between the two became apparent. Álvaro stood about a foot taller than the boy built with a more stocky frame, while on the soccer field, they serve as two sides of the same coin, but off they couldn’t be more different. He gripped the band of Kisho’s headphones and pulled them from his ears, “You aren’t the only one here, cabrón. Quit grinding your teeth, and turn down the fuckin’ noise.”
“Do not touch my shit,” Kisho snapped before he even registered what Álvaro had said to him, unwilling to snatch the item back lest the taller boy hold them too tightly and they break. He couldn’t handle that and being stuck with the prince of pissing him off. Álvaro thought so highly of his standing, but Kisho just saw someone who couldn’t handle being second place in anything. Someone who didn’t know the meaning of being a step below anyone and thus couldn’t put themself in someone else’s shoes. The type of person that would do anything he could to stay on top. A liar, and a bully. Kisho hated bullies. Fists clenched at his sides, he glared at the taller boy, Álvaro’s words finally filtering past the irritation clouding his mind. “You ask too much, ass, I will stop grinding my teeth when I am no longer stuck with you. I will turn my volume down when I no longer have to hear you breathing near me.”
“And I’ll stop ‘touching your shit’ when I no longer have to deal with un desperdicio de espacio (a waste of space) such as yourself.” Álvaro tightened his grip around the band of Kisho’s dear old headphones, almost amused at his riled-up frustration; the best way to get to someone is through something they hold dear. “I ask of you one simple thing even a child can comply with and you are over here throwing a hissy fit like a little ass girl, you really must not want your headphones back.” It was a stand-off between a chihuahua and a pitbull, both unrelenting in their resolve. Álvaro would never back down from a fight, especially one he’s been resisting since the start of the soccer season.
Kisho recoiled immediately at Álvaro’s words, the offhand comment hitting him like a slap to the face. He made an aborted motion to cross his arms over his bound chest before thinking better of the tell. Because Álvaro may be a part of the Elite now, he may have infiltrated Kisho’s friends, but, He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know. Calm down, deep breaths. Don’t back down. Kisho’s mantra ran over and over in his head as he squared his shoulders and looked up, and up and up, to where Álvaro held his headphones well out of his grasp. He could hear the expensive material creaking under the boy’s vindictive grip, over the beats still pouring from the speakers, and his heart leapt into his throat. If he came home with broken headphones, his family would know something was going on more than Samyan’s knowledge on the matter. If these headphones broke, in particular the outer casing of them that’s really the only remaining original part of the device, then he’d lose the last thing his mother ever gave him before she died. He’s had everything inside the casing updated over the years for the best sound quality and noise canceling that money could buy, but he refused to change the outside at all, the parts that she had held as she handed them over to him from her hospital bed.
“Relax your grip,” Kisho demanded, voice low to avoid any tremor that was threatening to surface. His nails were close to cutting into his palms with how tightly his fists were held at his sides. He stepped up to Álvaro and stared directly into his eyes from his spot so far beneath him, letting the boy know he was serious. “And hand me my headphones, or I will kick you in the balls so hard that there will be no chance for you to create someone worse than yourself.”
“Aww, that one really got you riled up huh? I’m sure you can replace this cheap discount tech section dollar store pair of headphones in no time.” Álvaro stifled his laughter, God, there were few things that brought him more joy than this. “You are going to have to get more creative with your threats, pendejo. I’ve heard the same thing from men way bigger than yourself, women too.” Álvaro eyes glared into Kisho’s, a grin spreading across his face. “I’ll give you one last chance to just turn down the music, or who knows maybe I’ll have to mess around with whatever buttons are on the side, and I don’t think you would like that alternative.” Álvaro squeezed his hand applying pressure to the plastic shell of the headphones. Creaks from the hard plastic begging to be released could be heard from within his hand, anyone could tell that it was on the verge of cracking if not already there. He wasn’t going to surrender to a no-good tryhard whom he held less respect for than a rabies-infected street mongrel. Álvaro lamented the fact that their practice was canceled today because of the game as he wanted more time to mess with the black-haired boy.
“Stop!!” Kisho panicked, voice coming out in an uncharacteristically high shriek as he heard the telltale signs of hard plastic giving way. His eyes were desperately latched onto his precious headphones and his heart was in his throat, cutting off all surface thoughts of propriety and appearance. He could yell and complain as much as he wanted, act like a child in a way unbecoming of him, but he couldn’t do much more. Where the Fujimori name is synonymous with Oil, as is the Borbón name with Coal, and those were two businesses too close together not to breed a deal between the two patriarchs. Anything that happens between the heirs of the two companies could become front page news, and even if their parents covered it up, it would affect inter-business relations. It was just another reason that Kisho had to put up with the royal remnants bullshit and entitlement most times, because the boy was a vindictive fuck and would do anything to mess with Kisho’s life, just typically more behind the scenes than the blatant goading and tormenting he’s doing now.
He also couldn’t jump for it, for completely unrelated reasons. First of all, it was completely undignified and would only make the taller boy laugh and sneer at him more, but that was also not the reason. The real reason was that he was not wearing his sports binder or compressive bra, it wasn’t even a racerback for better movement, just a basic, everyday type. And because of the hot day, it was one of his half tanks instead of the full ones with fabric all the way down his torso. If he were to go jumping and flailing for his headphones, it would only serve to entertain the sneering boy even more, and risk exposing Kisho’s one big secret to the second to last person he ever wanted to know. Unfortunately, the last person he wanted to know already did, and that was a major part of his problem and his distrust and hate.
It was different on the field, especially during practice when they were actually playing against each other. They rammed into each other, tumbled to grass in a flail of limbs and harsh words- both English and their native tongues- before they got back up and went at it again, desperately hoping the other would break a limb or make a mistake they could take advantage of. Álvaro has hit or grazed his chest plenty of times during these spats, but in the heat of the moment on the field with a pissed off rival, no one is thinking about a little extra cushion when they fall on top of you after you sweep their leg trying to get the ball. Whether either of them wanted to admit it or not, the two of them were fairly equal on the field, and given the other boy’s royal superiority complex and need to call Kisho as many degrading terms as he can when they were forced to interact, he was sure that Álvaro would not take the news of Kisho not even being born as male lightly. He could already hear the disparaging ‘like a girl’ comments taking on a whole new meaning if he found out, and it made him sick.
“Kutabare(Fuck you)!” The smaller boy cursed harshly at the taller when another creaking from his headphone broke his restraint, rearing his foot back with every intention of delivering his striker’s kick to his fellow striker’s groin. He hadn’t even had a chance to put any forward swing on his leg when he heard the telltale raucous noise of an Elite conversation. He froze in his position for a moment as he calculated the amount of time they had before the boys rounded the corner of the shed and he and Álvaro glared at each other in contempt when they both came to the same conclusion.
Not enough time.
Kisho lowered his foot back to the ground and calmly fixed his oversized black and red tshirt like he hadn’t been reared back to assault the boy in front of him. Emotionless resting face now back in place with the assurance that his boys would be there in moments, the now recollected Kisho held an expectant hand out to Álvaro, well aware that the manipulative bastard had far more appearance to maintain with the people rounding the corner than he himself did.
“Headphones.” It was a monotone prompt, one the bully likely didn’t even need. Álvaro had no time to break them and make it look like an accident, so both boys knew that it was time to bury the hostility and make face for the friend group.
“Here comes your fucking cavalry brigade.” Álvaro reluctantly dropped the pair of shabby-looking headphones back into the hands of the disparaging sight of the boy before him, sighing at the lack of damage that adorned the glossy surface. “Count your blessings, boy. Lord knows the rest won’t be around to save you next time.” Their eyes held in a standstill, Álvaro could read the boy like a picture book. His shrill outcries of terror and his almost impulsive mistake gave away all he needed to know; the boy was scared. Over a pair of poverty headphones? No, there was more to it. And to Álvaro? He basking in the thrill of making this boy tick more than he usually would be able to. He just needed to know why, and for that he knew the exact person to ask.
As the volume of the typical Elite frivolity increased, Álvaro broke the silence one more time before the group fully arrived, “Oh yeah, one last thing.” Álvaro placed his hand on Kisho’s shoulder and leaned into his ear so that only he would hear. “I promise you, if you ever raise that weak little shooting leg at me again I will make sure that the only thing both legs will be useful for is sitting in a wheelchair.” His tone was harsh, and his grip was harsher. If you knew Álvaro, you knew that he kept his fucking promises. And he wasn’t one usually to get his own hands dirty, there were lesser, more expendable types to handle such activities, although at a worse quality than if he would simply undertake it himself. Álvaro only ever fought to prove a point, and goddamn did he believe Kisho need to learn a few despite his father’s direct orders to spare the boy. It was one of the few things that kept Álvaro limited in his actions toward the boy, his aggressive playing style wasn’t the only reason he held the unofficial record for red cards in the school’s history. On the field Álvaro was unstoppable, and he would be damned to let Kisho stand in the way of his god-given glory, I mean the man was baptized by the pope himself. The tension between the two often has the rest of their teammates ready to jump in at a moment’s notice, but Álvaro restrains himself as a good son must.
Álvaro released the black haired boy from his grasp, taking a step to expand the distance between them. He took a breath, plastering the same fake smile he wore undetected (for the most part) for these four he’s run with the Elite; if this school was a movie, he would win the Academy Award for best actor.
He shot a quick wave over to the rest of the boys as they rounded closer, “It took you all long enough!”
“Sorry for the delay, Your Highness,” Benji called back, oblivious to whatever tension remained in the air. He waved his newly acquired set of walkie talkies (courtesy of Dash Day, thank God for kids with ADHD) over his head like some sort of trophy, before explaining, “We had to stock up.” While he had spent the morning securing communications, Mikey and Jack had secured their entry: the master key. “I just hope everyone knows that if they get detention today, it’s because Mikey sucks at Fortnite.”
“Dude, I’m not even that bad! It’s hard! I can’t crank 90s like those goddamn Fortnite zoomers.” As the saying went, Benji spoke of the devil and Michael appeared on the scene, shaking his head. He wasn’t even present and he was getting dunked on by his friends over the video games! Mikey chose to believe it was becuase there was simply nothing else to make fun of him for. And besides, Mikey had to let Benji get his licks in. The dude went ghost for like an entire summer, which was practically a lifetime. Easing him back into society was the right thing to do, even if that meant taking the hits on the chin.
Mikey held up his hand, a golden brass key glinting in the light. “And just like that, O’Connor seals the deal again. One master key, locked, loaded, and ready to get down to business.” He beamed around at the group, pausing only briefly on Kisho to furrow his brow at the uncharacteristically disheveled look the other boy held. Michael made a mental note about that, reminding himself that he would have to check on it later. That was the older brother in him. But the Elite in him couldn’t help but brag, “until they re-key the school, we’re the kings, boys.”
Jack materialized beside Mikey, a dumb and goofy grin plastered onto his face. He patted his friend reassuringly on the shoulder, leaning in towards Álvaro and Kisho with his other hand cupping the side of his mouth, like he was telling a secret. “Duuuude, Mikey is that bad. I’m not even a decent Fortnite player and I can beat him. He needs all the help he can get.” He laughed, moving back and sniping the keys from his friend’s grasp. The blonde pulled a rolled up piece of paper from his back pocket and unfurled it, revealing a diagram. Blueprints to the administration wing of the building, which included the Principal’s Office. “That Janitor came in clutch, we’re not even going in blind. Feast your eyes, boys, because this is how we’re getting the job done.”
“This is about…Fortnite,” Kisho reiterated blandly to his far more energetic friends, unsure if he'd heard correctly as he had been returning his headphones to their resting place around his neck after a subtle check for damages. Coming out of this, his shoulder is likely to show more injury from the royal pain’s grip than his headphone’s sturdy plastic. He'd noticed Mikey's glance though, and did his best to fix both the wrinkled fabric near his shoulder and his face, and counted his blessings once more that Álvaro was more interested in fucking with him than actually paying attention to him, because the boy almost had another clue to Kisho's life via his grip on the smaller's binder strap. Props to blind anger. As Jack pulled out the blueprints, Kisho also registered Benji's walkie talkies and Mikey’s key, then did his best not to openly stare at the large paper in resignation. “I am risking getting punished by my father for Fortnite? Boys, how did you even get all of this?”
Jack exhaled audibly, feigning fatigue. “Bro, it was not fucking easy, let me tell you.”
Hours Earlier...
The blonde blew a raspberry. “That guy drove a hard bargain.” He nudged Mikey giddily, “But the dream team made it happen.”
“Dude, seriously. We’d better get some use out of this thing. Where’s El Capitan?”
As if a choir of angels were singing his name, Ethan Green, with his arm over his brother’s shoulders, strolled down the gravel, high as a kite. He could see his brothers-in-arms at a distance, minus Theo who didn’t want to partake in such tomfoolery (lame excuse, but whatever). He locked eyes with Jack and gave a nod, before continuing his spiel with his older brother. “Now if you want to win Amy over, you need to get out of your comfort zone, my dude. What better way than stealing something from the principal’s office?” Ethan pressed on, wanting Andy to join in on the fun. The younger Green twin could smell success in the air with his brother at his side. This gave them a higher chance of succeeding in their heist, and aiding Mikey at his horrible gameplay in Fortnite. Success was all that Ethan wanted (and to watch good films). A new era for his twin and he was going to be part of the ride, from start to finish. Till death do they part. Green brothers FOR LIFE. “Like check it, what if we find something that belongs to dad’s in there? Do you know how happy dad would be if we found his old phone or game boy or whatever? Bruh, this could guarantee the vineyard, I’m sure of it.”
Out of his comfort zone. Easier said than done, but Andy was pretty confident he could do it. He was also pretty confident he needed a nap, and some Cheetos. As Ethan mentioned finding something of their father’s to guarantee the vineyard for their personal use, Andy looked over at him and tilted his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard dad say no. To anything. Have you?” Andy asked the question genuinely, but as he thought about it… he shrugged. While he had never heard his dad say no… Ethan probably had. “Yeah, I mean he’d probably be more up for it if we find a GameBoy! Maybe he’s missing a beloved Pokémon or something.” Andy beamed at his older brother and gave him a thumbs up. He’d have to figure this out, since it was clearly a pretty big deal to his older brother that they secure the deal for the vineyard party. Andy didn’t get it, but high school politics were more complex than they seemed! Besides. He had a girl… friend now?
Yes he was ignoring her texts, but he’d get there eventually. “Do you guys actually have a plan?”
While Henry Green did not say no often, if at all, the vineyard was a different story. For some reason or another, Eden Springs was a forbidden jewel in their family. Off limits to outsiders. Strictly family. No one told him why. Not even his dad and his dad told him everything! Ethan was flabbergasted that not even his father threw a party there which only made him want to throw a party there even more. This is why the golden boy absolutely needed this mission to go off without a hitch. “Of course we have a plan!” If they did have a plan, Ethan did not know of it, he was only assuming, out of the faith he had in his band of brothers. “Starting with our crew. As Reuben Tishkoff said in Ocean’s Eleven: ‘Ya gotta be NUTS. And you’re gonna need a crew as nuts as you are!’ I think we’re off to a fiiiiine start, right boys?”
“Damn it all,” He grumbled, not as quiet as he believed it to be because of how loud his music was in his ears. He checked his phone impatiently as they pulled up to the shed and sighed at the lack of activity in the groupchat. It must mean everyone’s on their way, at least. I’m not alone with Theo, at least, he thought in a vain attempt to boost his spirits. Small mercies, lesser evils.
“Ay Dios mío (Oh my God), quit it with the teeth grinding.” Hate. There were no bounds to the level of hate Álvaro held within his morsel of a heart. Across the three languages he spoke, none of the words could quite describe the hate he felt towards Kisho. Around the group, he could keep it contained, like a shaken soda bottle, sealed but ready to blow. But now, alone? He didn’t need to pull his punches.
It was as if the little common boy knew exactly how to make him tick; there was yet another offensive to Álvaro, he couldn’t respect the tranquility of silence. Álvaro leaned his back against the shed, softly tapping his boots onto the dirt below. Álvaro wasn’t one unfamiliar with patience, although he held none for the black hair prole that lay before him. He must have been too caught up in whatever abomination of sounds Álvaro could hear spilling out from the oddly constructed headphones he wore, the only thing that could explain such a blatant display of disrespect to some as regal as himself. As Álvaro approached the boy from the side the size difference between the two became apparent. Álvaro stood about a foot taller than the boy built with a more stocky frame, while on the soccer field, they serve as two sides of the same coin, but off they couldn’t be more different. He gripped the band of Kisho’s headphones and pulled them from his ears, “You aren’t the only one here, cabrón. Quit grinding your teeth, and turn down the fuckin’ noise.”
“Do not touch my shit,” Kisho snapped before he even registered what Álvaro had said to him, unwilling to snatch the item back lest the taller boy hold them too tightly and they break. He couldn’t handle that and being stuck with the prince of pissing him off. Álvaro thought so highly of his standing, but Kisho just saw someone who couldn’t handle being second place in anything. Someone who didn’t know the meaning of being a step below anyone and thus couldn’t put themself in someone else’s shoes. The type of person that would do anything he could to stay on top. A liar, and a bully. Kisho hated bullies. Fists clenched at his sides, he glared at the taller boy, Álvaro’s words finally filtering past the irritation clouding his mind. “You ask too much, ass, I will stop grinding my teeth when I am no longer stuck with you. I will turn my volume down when I no longer have to hear you breathing near me.”
“And I’ll stop ‘touching your shit’ when I no longer have to deal with un desperdicio de espacio (a waste of space) such as yourself.” Álvaro tightened his grip around the band of Kisho’s dear old headphones, almost amused at his riled-up frustration; the best way to get to someone is through something they hold dear. “I ask of you one simple thing even a child can comply with and you are over here throwing a hissy fit like a little ass girl, you really must not want your headphones back.” It was a stand-off between a chihuahua and a pitbull, both unrelenting in their resolve. Álvaro would never back down from a fight, especially one he’s been resisting since the start of the soccer season.
Kisho recoiled immediately at Álvaro’s words, the offhand comment hitting him like a slap to the face. He made an aborted motion to cross his arms over his bound chest before thinking better of the tell. Because Álvaro may be a part of the Elite now, he may have infiltrated Kisho’s friends, but, He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know. Calm down, deep breaths. Don’t back down. Kisho’s mantra ran over and over in his head as he squared his shoulders and looked up, and up and up, to where Álvaro held his headphones well out of his grasp. He could hear the expensive material creaking under the boy’s vindictive grip, over the beats still pouring from the speakers, and his heart leapt into his throat. If he came home with broken headphones, his family would know something was going on more than Samyan’s knowledge on the matter. If these headphones broke, in particular the outer casing of them that’s really the only remaining original part of the device, then he’d lose the last thing his mother ever gave him before she died. He’s had everything inside the casing updated over the years for the best sound quality and noise canceling that money could buy, but he refused to change the outside at all, the parts that she had held as she handed them over to him from her hospital bed.
“Relax your grip,” Kisho demanded, voice low to avoid any tremor that was threatening to surface. His nails were close to cutting into his palms with how tightly his fists were held at his sides. He stepped up to Álvaro and stared directly into his eyes from his spot so far beneath him, letting the boy know he was serious. “And hand me my headphones, or I will kick you in the balls so hard that there will be no chance for you to create someone worse than yourself.”
“Aww, that one really got you riled up huh? I’m sure you can replace this cheap discount tech section dollar store pair of headphones in no time.” Álvaro stifled his laughter, God, there were few things that brought him more joy than this. “You are going to have to get more creative with your threats, pendejo. I’ve heard the same thing from men way bigger than yourself, women too.” Álvaro eyes glared into Kisho’s, a grin spreading across his face. “I’ll give you one last chance to just turn down the music, or who knows maybe I’ll have to mess around with whatever buttons are on the side, and I don’t think you would like that alternative.” Álvaro squeezed his hand applying pressure to the plastic shell of the headphones. Creaks from the hard plastic begging to be released could be heard from within his hand, anyone could tell that it was on the verge of cracking if not already there. He wasn’t going to surrender to a no-good tryhard whom he held less respect for than a rabies-infected street mongrel. Álvaro lamented the fact that their practice was canceled today because of the game as he wanted more time to mess with the black-haired boy.
“Stop!!” Kisho panicked, voice coming out in an uncharacteristically high shriek as he heard the telltale signs of hard plastic giving way. His eyes were desperately latched onto his precious headphones and his heart was in his throat, cutting off all surface thoughts of propriety and appearance. He could yell and complain as much as he wanted, act like a child in a way unbecoming of him, but he couldn’t do much more. Where the Fujimori name is synonymous with Oil, as is the Borbón name with Coal, and those were two businesses too close together not to breed a deal between the two patriarchs. Anything that happens between the heirs of the two companies could become front page news, and even if their parents covered it up, it would affect inter-business relations. It was just another reason that Kisho had to put up with the royal remnants bullshit and entitlement most times, because the boy was a vindictive fuck and would do anything to mess with Kisho’s life, just typically more behind the scenes than the blatant goading and tormenting he’s doing now.
He also couldn’t jump for it, for completely unrelated reasons. First of all, it was completely undignified and would only make the taller boy laugh and sneer at him more, but that was also not the reason. The real reason was that he was not wearing his sports binder or compressive bra, it wasn’t even a racerback for better movement, just a basic, everyday type. And because of the hot day, it was one of his half tanks instead of the full ones with fabric all the way down his torso. If he were to go jumping and flailing for his headphones, it would only serve to entertain the sneering boy even more, and risk exposing Kisho’s one big secret to the second to last person he ever wanted to know. Unfortunately, the last person he wanted to know already did, and that was a major part of his problem and his distrust and hate.
It was different on the field, especially during practice when they were actually playing against each other. They rammed into each other, tumbled to grass in a flail of limbs and harsh words- both English and their native tongues- before they got back up and went at it again, desperately hoping the other would break a limb or make a mistake they could take advantage of. Álvaro has hit or grazed his chest plenty of times during these spats, but in the heat of the moment on the field with a pissed off rival, no one is thinking about a little extra cushion when they fall on top of you after you sweep their leg trying to get the ball. Whether either of them wanted to admit it or not, the two of them were fairly equal on the field, and given the other boy’s royal superiority complex and need to call Kisho as many degrading terms as he can when they were forced to interact, he was sure that Álvaro would not take the news of Kisho not even being born as male lightly. He could already hear the disparaging ‘like a girl’ comments taking on a whole new meaning if he found out, and it made him sick.
“Kutabare(Fuck you)!” The smaller boy cursed harshly at the taller when another creaking from his headphone broke his restraint, rearing his foot back with every intention of delivering his striker’s kick to his fellow striker’s groin. He hadn’t even had a chance to put any forward swing on his leg when he heard the telltale raucous noise of an Elite conversation. He froze in his position for a moment as he calculated the amount of time they had before the boys rounded the corner of the shed and he and Álvaro glared at each other in contempt when they both came to the same conclusion.
Not enough time.
Kisho lowered his foot back to the ground and calmly fixed his oversized black and red tshirt like he hadn’t been reared back to assault the boy in front of him. Emotionless resting face now back in place with the assurance that his boys would be there in moments, the now recollected Kisho held an expectant hand out to Álvaro, well aware that the manipulative bastard had far more appearance to maintain with the people rounding the corner than he himself did.
“Headphones.” It was a monotone prompt, one the bully likely didn’t even need. Álvaro had no time to break them and make it look like an accident, so both boys knew that it was time to bury the hostility and make face for the friend group.
“Here comes your fucking cavalry brigade.” Álvaro reluctantly dropped the pair of shabby-looking headphones back into the hands of the disparaging sight of the boy before him, sighing at the lack of damage that adorned the glossy surface. “Count your blessings, boy. Lord knows the rest won’t be around to save you next time.” Their eyes held in a standstill, Álvaro could read the boy like a picture book. His shrill outcries of terror and his almost impulsive mistake gave away all he needed to know; the boy was scared. Over a pair of poverty headphones? No, there was more to it. And to Álvaro? He basking in the thrill of making this boy tick more than he usually would be able to. He just needed to know why, and for that he knew the exact person to ask.
As the volume of the typical Elite frivolity increased, Álvaro broke the silence one more time before the group fully arrived, “Oh yeah, one last thing.” Álvaro placed his hand on Kisho’s shoulder and leaned into his ear so that only he would hear. “I promise you, if you ever raise that weak little shooting leg at me again I will make sure that the only thing both legs will be useful for is sitting in a wheelchair.” His tone was harsh, and his grip was harsher. If you knew Álvaro, you knew that he kept his fucking promises. And he wasn’t one usually to get his own hands dirty, there were lesser, more expendable types to handle such activities, although at a worse quality than if he would simply undertake it himself. Álvaro only ever fought to prove a point, and goddamn did he believe Kisho need to learn a few despite his father’s direct orders to spare the boy. It was one of the few things that kept Álvaro limited in his actions toward the boy, his aggressive playing style wasn’t the only reason he held the unofficial record for red cards in the school’s history. On the field Álvaro was unstoppable, and he would be damned to let Kisho stand in the way of his god-given glory, I mean the man was baptized by the pope himself. The tension between the two often has the rest of their teammates ready to jump in at a moment’s notice, but Álvaro restrains himself as a good son must.
Álvaro released the black haired boy from his grasp, taking a step to expand the distance between them. He took a breath, plastering the same fake smile he wore undetected (for the most part) for these four he’s run with the Elite; if this school was a movie, he would win the Academy Award for best actor.
He shot a quick wave over to the rest of the boys as they rounded closer, “It took you all long enough!”
“Sorry for the delay, Your Highness,” Benji called back, oblivious to whatever tension remained in the air. He waved his newly acquired set of walkie talkies (courtesy of Dash Day, thank God for kids with ADHD) over his head like some sort of trophy, before explaining, “We had to stock up.” While he had spent the morning securing communications, Mikey and Jack had secured their entry: the master key. “I just hope everyone knows that if they get detention today, it’s because Mikey sucks at Fortnite.”
“Dude, I’m not even that bad! It’s hard! I can’t crank 90s like those goddamn Fortnite zoomers.” As the saying went, Benji spoke of the devil and Michael appeared on the scene, shaking his head. He wasn’t even present and he was getting dunked on by his friends over the video games! Mikey chose to believe it was becuase there was simply nothing else to make fun of him for. And besides, Mikey had to let Benji get his licks in. The dude went ghost for like an entire summer, which was practically a lifetime. Easing him back into society was the right thing to do, even if that meant taking the hits on the chin.
Mikey held up his hand, a golden brass key glinting in the light. “And just like that, O’Connor seals the deal again. One master key, locked, loaded, and ready to get down to business.” He beamed around at the group, pausing only briefly on Kisho to furrow his brow at the uncharacteristically disheveled look the other boy held. Michael made a mental note about that, reminding himself that he would have to check on it later. That was the older brother in him. But the Elite in him couldn’t help but brag, “until they re-key the school, we’re the kings, boys.”
Jack materialized beside Mikey, a dumb and goofy grin plastered onto his face. He patted his friend reassuringly on the shoulder, leaning in towards Álvaro and Kisho with his other hand cupping the side of his mouth, like he was telling a secret. “Duuuude, Mikey is that bad. I’m not even a decent Fortnite player and I can beat him. He needs all the help he can get.” He laughed, moving back and sniping the keys from his friend’s grasp. The blonde pulled a rolled up piece of paper from his back pocket and unfurled it, revealing a diagram. Blueprints to the administration wing of the building, which included the Principal’s Office. “That Janitor came in clutch, we’re not even going in blind. Feast your eyes, boys, because this is how we’re getting the job done.”
“This is about…Fortnite,” Kisho reiterated blandly to his far more energetic friends, unsure if he'd heard correctly as he had been returning his headphones to their resting place around his neck after a subtle check for damages. Coming out of this, his shoulder is likely to show more injury from the royal pain’s grip than his headphone’s sturdy plastic. He'd noticed Mikey's glance though, and did his best to fix both the wrinkled fabric near his shoulder and his face, and counted his blessings once more that Álvaro was more interested in fucking with him than actually paying attention to him, because the boy almost had another clue to Kisho's life via his grip on the smaller's binder strap. Props to blind anger. As Jack pulled out the blueprints, Kisho also registered Benji's walkie talkies and Mikey’s key, then did his best not to openly stare at the large paper in resignation. “I am risking getting punished by my father for Fortnite? Boys, how did you even get all of this?”
Jack exhaled audibly, feigning fatigue. “Bro, it was not fucking easy, let me tell you.”
Hours Earlier...
Mikey squinted at the janitor he and Jack had managed to find. “Come on, dude. What if…” He ruffled around in his pockets and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. He held it up between two fingers in front of the staff member, “...my good friend Andrew Jackson was here to persuade you? Just tell them Levi bullied you into giving him the key. They’ll believe you and just give ya a new one, seriously.”
The janitor gave the two boys an incredulous look. These kids thought he could be bribed? He didn’t get paid enough for this shit. “For 20 dollars? Are you two stupid?” He shook his head. “No shot.”
Jack leaned over Mikey’s shoulder, snapping another bill in front of the man, “Well, what if the esteemed President Lincoln joined the party?”
The janitor gave the two boys an incredulous look. These kids thought he could be bribed? He didn’t get paid enough for this shit. “For 20 dollars? Are you two stupid?” He shook his head. “No shot.”
Jack leaned over Mikey’s shoulder, snapping another bill in front of the man, “Well, what if the esteemed President Lincoln joined the party?”
The blonde blew a raspberry. “That guy drove a hard bargain.” He nudged Mikey giddily, “But the dream team made it happen.”
“Dude, seriously. We’d better get some use out of this thing. Where’s El Capitan?”
As if a choir of angels were singing his name, Ethan Green, with his arm over his brother’s shoulders, strolled down the gravel, high as a kite. He could see his brothers-in-arms at a distance, minus Theo who didn’t want to partake in such tomfoolery (lame excuse, but whatever). He locked eyes with Jack and gave a nod, before continuing his spiel with his older brother. “Now if you want to win Amy over, you need to get out of your comfort zone, my dude. What better way than stealing something from the principal’s office?” Ethan pressed on, wanting Andy to join in on the fun. The younger Green twin could smell success in the air with his brother at his side. This gave them a higher chance of succeeding in their heist, and aiding Mikey at his horrible gameplay in Fortnite. Success was all that Ethan wanted (and to watch good films). A new era for his twin and he was going to be part of the ride, from start to finish. Till death do they part. Green brothers FOR LIFE. “Like check it, what if we find something that belongs to dad’s in there? Do you know how happy dad would be if we found his old phone or game boy or whatever? Bruh, this could guarantee the vineyard, I’m sure of it.”
Out of his comfort zone. Easier said than done, but Andy was pretty confident he could do it. He was also pretty confident he needed a nap, and some Cheetos. As Ethan mentioned finding something of their father’s to guarantee the vineyard for their personal use, Andy looked over at him and tilted his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard dad say no. To anything. Have you?” Andy asked the question genuinely, but as he thought about it… he shrugged. While he had never heard his dad say no… Ethan probably had. “Yeah, I mean he’d probably be more up for it if we find a GameBoy! Maybe he’s missing a beloved Pokémon or something.” Andy beamed at his older brother and gave him a thumbs up. He’d have to figure this out, since it was clearly a pretty big deal to his older brother that they secure the deal for the vineyard party. Andy didn’t get it, but high school politics were more complex than they seemed! Besides. He had a girl… friend now?
Yes he was ignoring her texts, but he’d get there eventually. “Do you guys actually have a plan?”
While Henry Green did not say no often, if at all, the vineyard was a different story. For some reason or another, Eden Springs was a forbidden jewel in their family. Off limits to outsiders. Strictly family. No one told him why. Not even his dad and his dad told him everything! Ethan was flabbergasted that not even his father threw a party there which only made him want to throw a party there even more. This is why the golden boy absolutely needed this mission to go off without a hitch. “Of course we have a plan!” If they did have a plan, Ethan did not know of it, he was only assuming, out of the faith he had in his band of brothers. “Starting with our crew. As Reuben Tishkoff said in Ocean’s Eleven: ‘Ya gotta be NUTS. And you’re gonna need a crew as nuts as you are!’ I think we’re off to a fiiiiine start, right boys?”
