‹ Prequel: Calm Before the Storm
You're Kind of Gangster
Shailene
The next few Wednesdays go exactly as the first one. Ean shows up between a half hour to an hour late and then spends the rest of the time on his phone. I sit at the other side of the table regretting signing up for the tutoring program.
At the next one though, I go up to the media center once again, deciding I should try to give Ean a final chance. I sit again alone at a table surrounded by the willing tutors, though this time, Ean comes within twenty minutes. He sits down, looking much less irritated.
"Hi," I say meekly. He barely glances at me as he pulls out a few books from his backpack and pushes them to me across the table. I see the same calculus textbook from our first session. I also see his bio textbook and a world lit paper assignment shoved haphazardly into the outside cover. "You have a paper due next week. Have you started?" He shrugs, pulling out his phone. "Ean, can you at least try to care? Even for an hour?" He glances up from his lap, surprised. Something in his eyes changes after that, almost plotting. I swallow a nervous lump in my throat as he puts his phone away and crosses his arms over the table.
He doesn't do much after that, still not about to stop his entire lifestyle to do homework. I have to guide him through his calculus work which I deem the priority after I saw how much overdue work he had shoved into his bag.
When the session ends an hour later, Ean makes a move to get up and clean his stuff up and race down to the wharf where his friends wait. I stop him as he pushes books into his backpack. I pick up the lit paper assignment I had put aside for the meeting.
I hand it to him, "Look, the paper is a 500 word essay about Nathaniel Hawthorne and his connections to the Puritans. Write this down." I shove a pen into his hand. He stares at me blankly. "I'm telling you what to write about do you want it or not?" He nods then bends down to put the paper on the table so he can write. I go on to explain to him what he needs to write to do well. I remember most of the stuff Matt wrote about from when he asked me to edit his paper, and I add in a couple extra things that I know Ean won’t use anyway. “Got it?" He nods as he finishes writing then stands back up straight. "Not such a goody goody after all, huh?” I mumble.
Ean looks at me blankly for a second before I shake my head. He gives me a smirk, snapping back into character before brushing past me and out the media center doors.
-
"I gave him the answers to that paper about Nathaniel Hawthorne you had to write for English. He looked at me like I was crazy for a second before he remembered he's supposed to be a badass." Matt shrugs, pulling a sweatshirt over his head as we walk out of the ice rink after his practice into the December chill of Michigan. "What was he like before he got into all that stuff?"
"He was actually a pretty good guy. You heard how good of a hockey player he was, right?" I nod. I met Jo when we were seven, and she's been a hockey player since she was eight. I couldn't count how many high school games she's dragged me to, and that's how we met Matt when we were freshmen. From what I can recall, Ean kept playing hockey until a few months before he publicly associated himself with Max and Will three years ago. "We were friends for six years and then he just kind of stopped showing up to practice in the middle of the season freshman year, stopped talking to me. I've seen him in the halls maybe once in the past few weeks; he just kind of vanished. But before all this you could almost never find one of us without the other." He stops walking for a minute, thinking, before shaking it off and catching up to me. "Now- he's pretty much just a want tobe asshole."
"What if he came back? You would still be his friend then, right?"
Matt shakes his head, "It's more complicated than that, Lene. He's changed a lot, and I wish it was that simple but the Ean I knew is gone." I sigh.
"Do you think that means that the Beau I knew is gone, too?" Matt stops once again, though this time he grabs my arm, stopping me too.
"Lene, that's your brother. He got out of that group before it really got to him, and he got himself out of it. He's not gone."
I nod, not completely sure I believe him, but I let it drop, not over what had transpired with my brother more than a year ago. "Okay."
-
"Sam, I'm home!" I call into the house to my adoptive dad. He calls back from the kitchen and I walk into the room to see him cooking dinner still dressed in his cop uniform from his shift earlier today. "What's for dinner?" I ask, setting my backpack down on the breakfast table. I go over to the stove where he stands when he doesn't answer, seeing lasagna in the oven.
"I have to do some paper work and check in on a couple guys so I'll be leaving soon, but dinner's pretty much done."
I nod, used to this routine; Sam's home when I get back from school or when I get home with Matt and Jo. Then he usually leaves before dinner and doesn't get home till late.
He gives me a quick smile before disappearing downstairs. I go upstairs to my room to start my homework after turning off the oven. As I pull out my world lit homework, I think about if Ean will write his paper.
At the next one though, I go up to the media center once again, deciding I should try to give Ean a final chance. I sit again alone at a table surrounded by the willing tutors, though this time, Ean comes within twenty minutes. He sits down, looking much less irritated.
"Hi," I say meekly. He barely glances at me as he pulls out a few books from his backpack and pushes them to me across the table. I see the same calculus textbook from our first session. I also see his bio textbook and a world lit paper assignment shoved haphazardly into the outside cover. "You have a paper due next week. Have you started?" He shrugs, pulling out his phone. "Ean, can you at least try to care? Even for an hour?" He glances up from his lap, surprised. Something in his eyes changes after that, almost plotting. I swallow a nervous lump in my throat as he puts his phone away and crosses his arms over the table.
He doesn't do much after that, still not about to stop his entire lifestyle to do homework. I have to guide him through his calculus work which I deem the priority after I saw how much overdue work he had shoved into his bag.
When the session ends an hour later, Ean makes a move to get up and clean his stuff up and race down to the wharf where his friends wait. I stop him as he pushes books into his backpack. I pick up the lit paper assignment I had put aside for the meeting.
I hand it to him, "Look, the paper is a 500 word essay about Nathaniel Hawthorne and his connections to the Puritans. Write this down." I shove a pen into his hand. He stares at me blankly. "I'm telling you what to write about do you want it or not?" He nods then bends down to put the paper on the table so he can write. I go on to explain to him what he needs to write to do well. I remember most of the stuff Matt wrote about from when he asked me to edit his paper, and I add in a couple extra things that I know Ean won’t use anyway. “Got it?" He nods as he finishes writing then stands back up straight. "Not such a goody goody after all, huh?” I mumble.
Ean looks at me blankly for a second before I shake my head. He gives me a smirk, snapping back into character before brushing past me and out the media center doors.
-
"I gave him the answers to that paper about Nathaniel Hawthorne you had to write for English. He looked at me like I was crazy for a second before he remembered he's supposed to be a badass." Matt shrugs, pulling a sweatshirt over his head as we walk out of the ice rink after his practice into the December chill of Michigan. "What was he like before he got into all that stuff?"
"He was actually a pretty good guy. You heard how good of a hockey player he was, right?" I nod. I met Jo when we were seven, and she's been a hockey player since she was eight. I couldn't count how many high school games she's dragged me to, and that's how we met Matt when we were freshmen. From what I can recall, Ean kept playing hockey until a few months before he publicly associated himself with Max and Will three years ago. "We were friends for six years and then he just kind of stopped showing up to practice in the middle of the season freshman year, stopped talking to me. I've seen him in the halls maybe once in the past few weeks; he just kind of vanished. But before all this you could almost never find one of us without the other." He stops walking for a minute, thinking, before shaking it off and catching up to me. "Now- he's pretty much just a want tobe asshole."
"What if he came back? You would still be his friend then, right?"
Matt shakes his head, "It's more complicated than that, Lene. He's changed a lot, and I wish it was that simple but the Ean I knew is gone." I sigh.
"Do you think that means that the Beau I knew is gone, too?" Matt stops once again, though this time he grabs my arm, stopping me too.
"Lene, that's your brother. He got out of that group before it really got to him, and he got himself out of it. He's not gone."
I nod, not completely sure I believe him, but I let it drop, not over what had transpired with my brother more than a year ago. "Okay."
-
"Sam, I'm home!" I call into the house to my adoptive dad. He calls back from the kitchen and I walk into the room to see him cooking dinner still dressed in his cop uniform from his shift earlier today. "What's for dinner?" I ask, setting my backpack down on the breakfast table. I go over to the stove where he stands when he doesn't answer, seeing lasagna in the oven.
"I have to do some paper work and check in on a couple guys so I'll be leaving soon, but dinner's pretty much done."
I nod, used to this routine; Sam's home when I get back from school or when I get home with Matt and Jo. Then he usually leaves before dinner and doesn't get home till late.
He gives me a quick smile before disappearing downstairs. I go upstairs to my room to start my homework after turning off the oven. As I pull out my world lit homework, I think about if Ean will write his paper.