Yep, they uh, they definitely know, Jack thought.

“Suspended on your first day after transferring back. How’d you even manage that?” Chris asked, unwilling to sit up. Dark circles stained under his eyes. Both of his eyebrows were missing in action.

“Picking fights with girls,” Devon said, ashing his cigarette off the table. His smirk was one of interest, not acceptance. His square jawline was tense.

“Not exactly.” Jack laughed nervously. He’d rather not be known as a guy that hit girls.

“What happened then?” Devon asked, unamused.

For a second Jack considered starting from the beginning. He’d explain how summer had been a personal hell in more ways than one. He’d tell them about how his friend made everything worse, how he-

He couldn't finish the thought. Putting the events of the last three months into words was hard on a good day. There hadn’t been one of those yet. If he found the words, he wouldn’t be able to say them anyway. It wasn’t safe.

Devon and Chris were watching as the awkward silence stretched on. They saw how his face changed as his thoughts took him. He had trouble keeping his eyes focused on anything for very long like he was fighting sleep.

“Heather’s been wailing about being assaulted but won't say what you did,” Chris said. He recognized those expressions; a resigned helplessness echoed through all of them. He’d never known Jack to be physically aggressive, not in any meaningful way. His bark was worse than his bite. On top of that, Heather was an infamous exaggerator. Chris made eye contact with Devon; a signal to lighten up.

“Right,” Jack said, breaking out of his head. Another wave of nervous laughter escaped his chest. “It was really stupid.”

“C'mon man, I want details,” Devon said, finding it in him to relax. Jack glanced at the plate in front of him, deciding if he was ready to vent or not. Red sauce pooled around the edges, soaking the thin paper. He wasn’t going to eat either way.

“I was late for school, my foster had to drive me. They don't live near here, so I couldn't take the bus,” Jack said stiffly, trying to cut out unnecessary information. “I walked into bio in the middle of a dissection. The teacher split up a group to pair me with Heather. She wasn't following along and the whole thing really grossed her out. I had to do most of the work-”

“-Wait, why did you switch schools?” Devon asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke away from the table. Jack winced.

“Is it relevant?” Chris asked Jack but was looking at Devon.

“Not really,” Jack said, trying to come up with a better excuse. Nothing came to mind, and the truth wasn't an option.

“Nevermind I guess,” Devon said while looking back at Chris, slightly annoyed. “Heather’s squeamish?”

“Yea, real bad. She kept squealing and when the teacher told her to participate she just squealed closer to me. She grabbed my arm.” He paused to take a breath. “I didn't even think about it, I just-you know. I threw the frog at her.” He wasn't proud of his actions, but it had made the perfect cover story for his ex-fosters to kick him out. “Parts of it uh, stuck to her face.”

“Pfft-“ Chris snorted. 

Devon coughed from laughing. “That's it? That's what got you sent back here?”

“It’s fucking stupid, right?” Jack asked, relieved that someone finally agreed with him.

“You’re an idiot,” Chris said, shaking his head.

“That’s fair,” Jack agreed.

“No-“ Devon coughed, “-you're an idiot ‘cause she was hitting on you.“ Jack froze. 

“What?”

“Think about it,” Chris said. Jack tried. His eyebrows tightened with the effort. 

“I don't get it.” He was pretty sure she was just annoying.

“She acted overly cutesy and made an excuse to touch you,” Devon elaborated.

“That's not flirting,” Jack said as he realized they were probably right.

“Yea it is,” Devon chuckled.

“No wonder Heather-” Chris said, stopping cold. His eyes locked onto something in the woods behind Jack and Devon. “Incoming.”

Leaves crunched under foot behind them. A large hand pressed down into Jack’s hair, aggressively mashing his head from side to side. The anxious knot in Jack’s chest tightened again.

“Look who's back, my little Asian nark! How’ve you been?” Kyle asked, out of breath. Jack didn't have the energy to address Kyle’s attempt at digging up ancient history. He batted Kyle’s arm away and turned to face him. 

His face wasn’t where he’d expected it to be. Kyle had grown over the past two years. He towered over Jack at six feet. His greasy blonde hair stuck to his head against the breeze.

“I’m pretty sure he’s mixed,” Devon said blandly. He took another pull off his cigarette. 

“What, you think you’re some sort of race expert,” Kyle asked. No one moved for a second. The cicadas even seemed to pause. Chris closed his eyes, his brow twitching.

“He just looks kinda white,” Devon said, casually stubbing out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe. If he talked back Kyle would share a snide remark targeting Devon’s skin color. Getting mad wasn’t worth the effort.

“How’s Sunoco,” Jack asked, trying to change the subject. Kyle scooted in on the other side of the bench. Chris pretended to be asleep.

“I don’ know, don’t work there anymore. Another nark. She reminded me of you,” Kyle said, leaning forward against the table. His bulky forearms threatened to enter Jack's personal space. Jack’s ears were hot at the second attempt to dig up ancient history.

“Get over it,” Jack said before he could stop himself. Being the cause of Kyle’s night in juvie had haunted him for four years. Kyle clapped condescendingly.

“Standing up for yourself! I like it! No more crying to Devon,” He asked, grinning with yellowed teeth.

“Kyle,” Devon warned. Kyle looked Devon up and down before deciding that, despite being the bigger guy, he probably couldn’t beat Devon in a fight.

“Alright, I’ll see you guys later,” Kyle said, backing off. He moved to stand. On his way up he lifted the edge of Jack’s paper plate. Wet sloppy Joe slid off and down the front of Jack’s shirt. Red sauce seeped into his basketball shorts. Kyle turned back towards the house, grinning.

“Jack. Don’t.” Devon warned, watching him inhale slowly. 

A lifetime of shame, endless babysitting, a month of humiliation, and now this. He stood while scooping a hand full of meat off his chest. He aimed for Kyle’s back. 

The chunks splattered against the back of Kyle’s head with a sickening smack, coloring his light hair a reddish-brown. The satisfaction only lasted a second. Kyle spun around and took a running start.