Locker

“Your reputation more than precedes you, and no other counselor has the patience to deal with you. So please, for Derek’s sake, and the sake of everyone’s time, shut your mouth and be a supportive parent for at least ten minutes.”

Sorelia shot to her feet. “Filthy—”

“You can sit down, or I can toss you through the window for threatening me,” she said, dragging her gaze over Sorelia. “That shirt definitely isn’t going to survive it. I’m not gentle with overbearing parents, let alone lycans.”

Sorelia snarled. “I’ll have you fired. Derek, get up. Now.”

Counselor Stryder smiled and sat back. “Going to send him cross country?”

“We’ll be back when there’s a better counselor available.”

Sorelia charged out of the office. Dimitri followed just behind, and Derek followed. Counselor Stryder grinned.

“See you soon, Derek. Have a look at the elective catalog, hm?”

Derek just nodded shakily, following his parents out of the office. They took a sharp turn. And charged forward at lycan speed, leaving Derek behind, probably heading to the principal’s office. Derek wouldn't lie and say he wasn’t grateful they were leaving him behind. Finally, he could have a moment alone to let his shoulders slump, his lungs fill, and his mind settle. He leaned back against a locker, sighing.

He took a deep breath of a rich, musky scent coming from somewhere nearby. It was hard to say exactly where it was coming from, but it was soothing. His shoulders slumped. He almost felt like he'd go to sleep right there. He fought back the urge.

“Is someone out there?”

Derek jumped away from the locker where the voice was coming from. The voice was nice, warm, and a little raspy. A boy, he was sure of that.

“Oh my—are you — are you okay in there? How long have you been in there?”

“Probably about thirty minutes. No chance that you'll let me out, huh? Everyone else who was around when it happened seemed to forget the basics of common decency, and I’m hot as fuck.”

His stomach jolted at the way the other said the last word. No one ever cursed around him. He tried to push the thought away, shaking his head.

“Yeah, of course. I'll let you out…” He looked down at the combination lock and winced. “It’s… I don’t know the combination?” He lifted it, trying to see the back of it, but there was nothing there. “I could try to find someone with a key?”

“Takes too long. I am dying. You wouldn't happen to be any good at listening, would you? I can teach you how to figure out the combination.”

Derek blinked. “That seems… illegal.”

“I’ve been wrongfully imprisoned, maybe kidnapped, and definitely assaulted. Teaching you to open a combination lock is the least of the illegalities related to this situation.”

“Are you injured?”

“Bruised, but fine. Think you can do it?”

Derek gulped and nodded. “I’m a fast learner.”

“Great! Pull the lock taut and twist right until you feel it catch.”

“Okay.” Derek did as he was told, the way he always did. His stomach jumped, feeling at once nervous and excited to be learning something he… probably shouldn’t know. His parents would flip out. “Why… exactly do you know how to figure out a combination lock without knowing the combination?”

“Well, I'm from a place where knowing how to do borderline illegal things is useful.”

Derek flinched, not sure if he should let what could potentially be a delinquent out.

The boy inside laughed. “Nervous that you're unleashing and outright menace onto society?”

“Maybe a little.”

“I know how to pick a lock, too.”

“That's not really helping…”

“Jokes aside…my mom was a police officer, she taught me…”

The melancholy and the boy's voice caught him off guard. He could feel the boy's sorrow as if it were his own.

“I'm sorry…”

The boy said nothing for a moment as Derek started twisting the knob the other way.

“Thanks.”

“How long has it been? Are you here with your father?”

“Nope. Uncle and aunt, though they burned off to go deal with their own kids… who are the shittiest relatives. I mean, who just stands there and watches your cousin get shoved into a locker?”

Derek chuckled. He doubted they were worse than his own relatives, considering everything.

“They sound terrible.”

“They are terrible and pure chaos. I mean, I’m not the neatest person, sure, but I at least know where my three pairs of socks are.” Derek laughed, unable to help himself. “Don’t laugh. It’s fucking ridiculous! I don’t know how any of them manage to get anywhere on time. Late waking up. Late picking me up. Late to orientation. Late to register. Late. I didn't even get a chance to eat breakfast, and I’m pretty sure I’m not getting lunch because they’re late to everything.”

“I'm sorry to hear that… Neither did I, if it makes you feel any better.”

He snickered. “Something tells me that was more by choice. A shortage of cooks in the house?”

“No… just… time.” He hummed. The lock clicked again, and Derek turned it back the other way.

“You got the last number already?”

“I think?”

“Well, give it a try. Two left, two right, two left again.”

Derek entered the combination, and to his surprise, the lock sprang open. He unhooked it from the hole and stepped back. A youth made mostly of long, pale limbs flailed out and stumbled forward, nearly running into the other row of lockers before catching himself.

“Freedom! By all the waves…” He bent over, panting and pinching the front of his tank top to fan himself. “You’re a quick learner. Remind me to call you when I need a bailout.”

His tank top was dark with sweat, and Derek grimaced. A tank top in the fall in Washington? Was he trying to catch a cold? Secondly, his jeans looked like they had more holes than fabric, and he wasn't sure that they were all fashionable rips. He winced, feeling a bit elitist thinking that. He knew too well that there were plenty of people who couldn’t afford to replace anything until they had no choice. Maybe this boy was from a poor family.

He let his eyes drift up to his head, where the boy’s long curly hair was gathered in a fluffy-looking bun.  There was a birthmark on his nape, practically glowing, beneath the bright flush creeping into his hairline. Derek could almost see the steam rising off him.

What was he?

“Are you okay? You look… flushed.”

He waved his hand vaguely. “I run hot, so getting hotboxed was not fun.” He stood up straight and turned toward Derek.. “Anyway, thanks, man. I — King of the Sandbox!”

Derek went still, blinking at the nickname that poked at his memories. He got a flash of a little boy, just as pale as this boy was, with mismatched brown and blue eyes and a wide, beaming smile missing a few teeth. It had been years since he’d seen him, but there was no mistaking his eyes, his smile or the way  his whole body radiated positivity.

Nikolias?"

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