First Day of School (Pt. 5)

--- Jon ---

“Then watch me.”

He knew outright walking up on Chester was probably a bad idea but given how any subtler approaches would just result in Josh getting beaten harder and just waling away wasn’t an option, he didn’t see many other choices.

Seeing that the bully was about to throw another punch on the already downed student, he shot his hand out and grabbed Chester by his shoulder. “Alright. He’s already on the ground, and that’s more than enough of that.”

Chester turned on him with an incredulous glare. “The fuck are you?”

He blinked. “Uh, Jon Whitaker?”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” The blonde teen glared.

“I mean, we did have three classes together last year?” He offered, “And I’m pretty sure we had last class together too?”

Chester looked him up and down. “Really? Because you don’t look all that familiar to me.”

“Yeah…” He sighed, knowing he never had much in the way of ‘presence’ as far as most people were concerned.

“Listen freak I don’t know what you want-”

“For you to stop punching Josh.” He supplied helpfully.

The other teen gave him something between a laugh and a scoffing sound. “You want to take his place?”

“Honestly, I’d rather there wasn’t any violence.” He admitted with a wry grin. “I mean, I’m sure there’s no reason we can’t just talk this out.”

“Really?” Chester grinned in a not-quite-nice kind of way as he reached into his pocket.

“Mm-hm.” He nodded, trying to hide his disappointment with a smile. “Absolutely no reason.”

“How about now?” Chester asked pulling out a balisong knife with a flick of his wrist and a clack of the blade as he aimed at Jon.

“Mm, still don’t see a reason why we can’t talk.” He confessed, “I mean, if you want I can even show you how to do this.”

He plucked the knife from Chester’s -admittedly weak- grip, and made the switch blade dance across his fingers of one hand and onto the fingers of the other before throwing it back to the first that had it twirl across his fingers and leaving the blade closed as he offered it back to the other teen.

Who was just staring at him now for some reason.

(Why is he… Oh!)

“Sorry, that was rude of me.” He apologized flipping the knife open once more as he remembered knife etiquette and offering the knife back with the blade between his fingers.

When the other teen still didn’t take the blade, he returned it to Chester’s still outstretched hand before correcting his grip on the knife in an attempt to cover his (embarrassing) social faux pas.

“There, that’s a much better way to hold a knife if you feel threatened.” While he may not have enjoyed using his knife all that much, he wouldn’t deny it gave him a certain comfort after his time in Blackwell. And as rough as the southside could be for some people, he more than understood how having a weapon could make you feel safe, (but only if you actually know how to use it.)

With knife returned to its still frozen –(why isn’t he moving?)- owner, he turned his attention onto Josh who had been watching their exchange with wide eyes. Something that had him sighing internally.

(Their relationship must be really bad if he doesn’t know how to react to his bully not bullying people…) He couldn’t help but give Chester a disappointed shake of his head.

At least until he noticed the bleeding cut on Josh’s forehead, sending him into an immediate panic.

“Are you alright? Do you need help getting to the nurse?!” He paused when he noticed Josh trying to get up on his own. “No, wait head cuts are really dangerous, let me help you up.”

“Um, uh, thanks?” Josh told him in a bewildered tone, as if it was odd that Jon was helping him.

(I knew the bullying was bad, but did he really expect no one to help him after the fact?) He wondered with some concern, before something else occurred to him. (Or maybe it’s because I’m not Annette, I mean she’s rough around the edges, but I’m pretty sure she’d have gotten him to the nurse.)

“You know how to use a butterfly knife?” Said teenager asked having clearly come over to check on her friend.

“Oh, uh, my ma taught me how to use a knife but the quartermaster at my camp taught me how to make it dance.” He explained, purposely avoiding a few minor details such as how he’d gotten that knife from one of Rosalind’s attackers, that the quartermaster was drunk at the time, and how it was while they were waiting for a particularly nasty group of Corrupted to burn.

“Must’ve been a cool quartermaster…” Annette told him with a touch of shock.

(Rogers threw him a spindle of thread already bound to a needle, “If you’re not going back to the Camp you’re going to have to do something about that hole in your side yourself. And as far as anesthetics and antiseptics go.” The older man placed a bottle of moonshine between them. “Have fun.”)

(He groaned as he found quartermaster Rogers passed out and reeking of alcohol in one of the lake canoes they were supposed to be using for the kids today. Leaving him, once more wondering why Miss Edna hadn’t fired the old drunk.)

(The quartermaster smashed his lantern across the Corrupted’s face before downing a swig of his flask and spitting it out on the monster. An action that caused the few embers on the mad beast to erupt in a small explosion as they came into contact with the potent alcohol.)

“You could say that…” (Since I still don’t know whether I hate or respect that man…)