Chapter Text
Dean took a deep breath and stepped off the plane with Sam following closely behind him. They carried carried backpacks and winter coats in their hands. Before they left he’d tried to buy them winter clothes with the money he’d made from working at the garage, but he knew they weren’t prepared for the weather here. It would definitely be a shock to their systems. He shot Sammy a forced smile as they walked over to the single baggage claim in this tiny airport. That was another thing they would have to get used to. The Alaskan landscape may be larger and emptier than Kansas, but the cities were much smaller than they were back home.
Since Dean had spent his whole life in Kansas, he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to adapt to living in Alaska. He had to make this work though. He would do whatever he needed to suppress his own feelings about the situation and help Sam feel better. When he looked at his fourteen-year-old brother, he noticed the dried tear tracks still visible on his cheeks. He reached down with the sleeve of his flannel shirt and wiped them away, not wanting John to see them.
After their suitcases appeared on the conveyor belt, the two of them wandered towards the front exit of the airport and ventured outside for the first time to greet the cool September air. It was almost ten in the morning, and the sun had barely risen. The days were shortening as it got closer to winter. During the summer months, the sun stayed above the horizon for weeks at a time without ever setting. During the winter, there were only a few hours of daylight. The rest of the time was spent in darkness, and that was if the sun came out at all. More often than not it would be rainy, cloudy, or snowy. In other words, it was going to be miserable here.
They were moving to a small town called Kotzebue in the Northwest Arctic Borough of Alaska. It was home to only a tiny fraction of the population of Lawrence, Kansas where they were from. He could barely pronounce the name of this new town, much less believe he was about to live there, but they didn’t have a choice.
When their foster mother had gotten sick, he tried his best to take care of her and Sam. He took her to her doctor appointments and made sure Sam always had dinner and finished his homework. It hadn’t been enough. She died one month ago. They'd been shuffled around the system since their birth mother died when he was four, and now, nobody wanted to take them in. They were deemed a 'problem'.
He'd applied to become an emancipated teen so he could try and take care of Sammy on his own, but the courts denied him. During the evaluation, they'd discovered the location of their birth father, John Winchester. He had vague memories of John from back when his mother was still alive, but once she died, he'd taken off. Just up and left. The state said since there was a living biological relative, they had to go stay with him. After he turned eighteen, he could apply to become Sam’s guardian, but for now they had to live with John.
It had been twelve years since he'd seen his father. He still remembered when their mom died. First came the anger, then the drinking, and then too much drinking. One evening, John dropped him and Sam off at the local church before running all the way to Alaska. Now they were supposed to go live with him as if he hadn’t been absent their entire lives.
John waved awkwardly at them when they stepped out of the airport and into the cool morning air. The wind picked up, sending a chill down his spine, and he wrapped his leather jacket more tightly around himself. It was in the forties today, but fall was only beginning. In the winter it wouldn’t be uncommon for it to get down into the negative degrees. He didn't look forward to that at all.
No flights went directly from Lawrence to Kotzebue, so they would have to spend over an hour in the car with John. His stomach swooped at the thought. He ruffled Sam’s shaggy hair fondly and walked towards where John stood next to a mean looking monster truck.
“Dean,” John greeted him with a nod. His father looked grizzlier than he remembered. His beard was graying, and he had more prominent laugh lines than the last time he’d seen him as a kid.
They’d spoken briefly on the phone before flying here. He'd hoped John would say no to them coming to stay with him. Maybe then he would've been granted permission to take care of Sam himself. Unfortunately, John had actually seemed pretty excited about this arrangement when they talked on the phone. He'd also been noticeably upset when he apologized for leaving them all those years ago. He said he'd thought about them every day and had wanted to come get them lots of times, but he'd been worried about disrupting their lives again. Those words did little to change the years of abuse they'd sustained at the hands of the foster care system.
John told him he'd already registered the two of them at the local high school and he was going to get him a car since he wouldn’t be around much of the time to take them places. It looked like he planned on taking his job as a father seriously for the first time since he'd bailed on them. He was suspicious but cautiously optimistic when John reached out to pull him into a hug before doing the same with Sammy. Despite his long-simmering anger and resentment, he melted into the hug. He’d been starved for human contact for as long as he could remember, and he hadn’t noticed how bad it had gotten until he was holding back his tears. Sam rolled his eyes before hugging John quickly and getting into the truck without saying anything. He helped John pack their few suitcases into the back and climbed into the passenger seat.
“It’s good to see you, boys. It’s been a long time.” John’s voice was gruff as he started up the truck.
“Too long,” Sam huffed from the back, and he couldn’t tell if he was being serious or sarcastic. Either way, it was the truth.
The truck drove in silence for a few minutes until John spoke again. “I got you a car, like I promised.”
He was surprised but also grateful. “Really?” He knew John probably only did this to try and get back into his good graces, but he wasn't about to complain about not having to walk to school in the snow.
John nodded. “If I didn’t already have my truck, I would probably want it for myself.”
Dean squinted suspiciously but muttered a small thanks. John was probably being overly-friendly out of awkwardness. Sam was dealing with his own awkwardness by stewing quietly in the back and forcing him to make all of the small talk by himself.
“Where did you get it?” He knew John didn’t make enough money to go buy a new car. He wondered where people found used cars in bumfuck nowhere, Alaska.
“I work with a guy named Bobby Singer up at Barrow.”
Barrow was the northernmost city in the United States and one of the northernmost cities in the entire world. John alternated weeks working out in the northern Alaskan oil fields and spending time back at his home in Kotzebue where he picked up hours at the local gun shop. They’d talked about this arrangement during their first phone call. At least that meant he and Sam would only have to deal with John every other week. The rest of the time, he could take care of Sam the way he was used to.
“Bobby got hurt on the job a couple years back, so he's in a wheelchair and doing more management and office work,” John continued. “Since he can’t drive anymore, he offered to sell me his old car. He and his daughter, Jo, did a lot of work fixing it up.” John must've seen the unsure expression on his face, because he got more animated. "It's a classic muscle car! A 1967 Chevy Impala. They don't make them like that anymore. It purrs like you wouldn't believe."
Honestly, he would take anything as long as it ran and had four wheels. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” John stared ahead at the two-lane blacktop in front of them. “I’m glad you boys are here.” John’s voice sounded pinched, and he coughed to clear it. He knew John wasn’t good at expressing his emotions. That was probably the only thing they had in common. He shot a quick look towards the backseat at Sam, who continued to ignore both of them.
The ride didn’t end up being too long compared to what he’d expected. He also hadn’t expected it to be quite this beautiful here. As the sun rose it shot rays of orange, pink, and purple across the mountainous landscape. John said it hadn’t snowed yet this fall, but it probably would soon. He shivered in the warm cab of the truck as he tried not to think about the endless months of cold weather ahead of him. He’d never liked the cold.
Finally, they pulled into Kotzebue. The town was located on a small peninsula, surrounded on three sides by water. No wonder John said he liked to fish so much. It was probably the only thing to do around here. John explained that half of the town was located on the peninsula while the other half spread out into the mainland area that was more forested. John’s house was located on the peninsula with an open view of the ocean. For the first time since they’d started driving, Sam perked up in the backseat.
The high school was situated directly between the peninsula and the mainland, so it had trees on one side and the ocean on the other. There were also some hillier regions further out covered in hardy pine trees. They were technically in the Arctic Circle now. Trees were few and far between, but clusters of evergreens were able to grow on the protected sides of rocky outcroppings. John explained that most of the people in this region worked in the fishing or oil industry. Either that or they hunted in the mountains nearby.
Even though it was beautiful, he felt a sense of unease as they crossed over the bridge that connected the tiny peninsula to the mainland. He’d never been somewhere without any trees. Even Kansas, which was known for its flat farmlands, still had trees. The environment here made it difficult for many plants and animals to survive.
“It’s weird being in a place that’s so flat and open,” he said.
John chuckled. “Just wait until we go to Barrow! They’re three-hundred miles north of the Arctic Circle, so they’re fully in the tundra. Absolutely no trees and no vegetation higher than a few inches.” Dean shivered. This was too strange. He felt like he’d stepped into another dimension.
They pulled up to John’s small cabin—a two-bedroom house with a basement that had been converted into a third bedroom. Sam called dibs on the upstairs room, which was fine with him. Once he’d learned that there was a window in the basement, he said he’d be fine with staying there. It would be nice to have some distance between himself and the others when he inevitably needed alone time. He was seventeen, after all.
He got out of the truck when John stopped it behind the old car already parked in front of the house and gasped. John had been right. She was a thing of beauty.
"Wow, Dad, I love it!” He exclaimed. Sam’s head shot up in surprise at his reaction, and John's expression softened. He realized a second too late that he'd called John 'Dad', but he couldn't exactly take it back now.
“You’re welcome,” John said, sounding flustered. He scratched a hand through his short hair and helped them unpack the truck. It only took one trip with the three of them to bring everything inside. They didn't have many belongings. Being shuffled around in the foster care system for years taught them how to pack light.
He made sure Sam was settled upstairs before venturing downstairs to the basement. A dark wooden wardrobe matched the desk on one side of the room, and a double bed with navy blue sheets took up most of the rest of the space. He also noticed a dusty acoustic guitar in the corner that he vaguely remembered his mother playing while she sang Hey Jude to him. John must've taken it with him when he moved here. The space wasn’t really decorated, and he smelled a fresh coat of paint, but he appreciated John going through this effort for him.
“I hope it’s okay,” John muttered from behind him on the stairs.
“It’s good.” His tone was unenthusiastic, but that had more to do with the situation in general than the state of the bedroom.
Thankfully, John left him alone to unpack, and he didn't have to hide his sadness any longer. Now that he was alone, he could let the force of his depression cover him like a weighted blanket. It was always present, but he’d gotten good at pretending it didn't exist when he was around other people. He slowly moved around the room, unpacking his meager belongings, so he’d be prepared to start school the next day.
Like everything else around here, Kotzebue high school looked tiny compared to his school back in Kansas. In small towns like this, everyone knew each other. The students here had probably been in the same classes since kindergarten, and their parents were probably all friends. He and Sam would be the new kids—the weird foster kids from Kansas.
He sighed as he finished putting his clothes away in the old dresser. Everything in the basement smelled a bit musty. He opened the suitcase where he'd packed all of his bathroom stuff and stepped into the half bath in the basement. The only other bathroom was on the second floor. He’d have to take his showers up there, but he was glad to see he wouldn’t have to climb two flights of stairs to piss in the middle of the night.
After he laid his things out in the bathroom, he checked himself out in the mirror. He used to consider himself somewhat handsome, or at least not ugly. He didn’t really like his many freckles, but he did like his green eyes. His hair was slightly messed up from the wind, and his skin looked a bit sallow. He couldn’t tell if it was due to the stress of the move or the terrible lighting in the bathroom, but hopefully he’d look more presentable in the morning.
His anxiety spiked when he thought about starting school tomorrow. A familiar itch sizzled beneath his skin, and his hand automatically moved to grab his razor from his bag before he stopped himself. He couldn’t give in to the urge to cut on his first day here. He left the bathroom, rubbing absently at the long-sleeved shirt he wore to cover up the expanse of scars along his arm in various stages of healing. The urge to hurt himself passed eventually, but his anxiety didn’t.
He and Sam were joining the semester a month late, which was sure to make the transition even worse. He wasn’t good at school. He got decent grades, but he didn’t fit in well with other students. Unlike Sam who always had a million friends, he tended to keep more to himself. He wasn't purposefully antisocial; it just happened. He didn't expect to make any friends here, since he was used to being alone. As long as he had Sam to talk to, he would be fine.
It took him ages to fall asleep that night. The whistling wind against the basement window kept him awake until the early hours of the morning. Sam snuck into the basement around two after probably having the same difficulty sleeping in a new place. He scooted to the edge of the bed to give Sam room to climb in. He finally fell asleep around three, but he was woken up a few hours later when his alarm went off. He felt completely unrested and just as anxious as he had been the night before.
They met John upstairs for breakfast. He wasn’t due back at the oil fields until next week, which worked out pretty well. He’d be here to help them settle in before he took off again. Dean looked out the window over the kitchen sink and was startled by the pitch blackness outside. It would definitely take some time to get used to that.
“Sun is rising at around ten and setting around six right now,” John explained, taking a bite of cereal.
Dean grabbed two bowls and poured some cereal for himself and for Sammy as well. He wasn’t feeling particularly hungry, but he figured it’d be better to eat. He was only able to force down half of the bowl because his stomach felt too queasy to risk eating more. When they finished with their silent breakfast, he corralled Sam to get ready for school. He didn’t want to be late on their first day. They said goodbye to John and rushed out the door. The crunch of gravel under his boots was an unfamiliar sensation. John had explained how most of the roads around here weren’t paved because of the permafrost. Gravel roads did better on the constantly frozen ground.
A glimmer of excitement rushed through him when he saw the Impala. He’d almost forgotten about his new car! The Impala’s doors squeaked when they pulled them open to get inside. It had a distinct smell to it: leather, engine grease, and a hint of whiskey. He pulled out of the driveway very carefully, not wanting to get in a wreck on his first day of driving it. John had given them directions to the school, but it wasn’t hard to find it. There were only two main roads in town, and one of them passed right by the high school. They crossed over the bridge from the peninsula back over to the mainland side where the school sat. Then he parked the car in a mostly empty lot in front of the building.
“Alright, Sammy,” he sighed, grabbing his backpack and stepping back out into the cold. The two of them walked to the front entrance. Back in Kansas, they’d gone to separate schools, but now that Sam was a freshman, they got to go to the same school. That meant he’d still be able to keep an eye on him.
Class didn’t start for another thirty minutes, so there weren’t many students around yet. They both breathed a sigh of relief when they stepped inside and felt the heaters on full blast. The front office was the first door on the left. He shrugged at Sam before opening it. There was a waiting area in the office with a couple of chairs. Sam immediately went to sit down while he walked to the front desk.
A woman with a knowing smile on her face watched them enter. “Can I help you?” She asked him, though it was clear she already knew he needed help.
“Hi, I’m Dean Winchester, and that’s my brother, Sam.” Recognition crossed her face. Clearly, she’d been expecting them. It was September 19th, and school started over a month ago. He wondered if the two of them showing up late would cause a stir. That was the last thing he wanted. He hated being the center of attention. He wanted to blend into the background until he turned eighteen and could take Sam and get the hell out of here.
“Of course! My name is Donna Hanscum.” She pulled out a file hidden under a stack of papers on her desk. “Here are both of your schedules.” After she handed him the schedules, she let him know he could come speak to her about any problems he might have. She was also the counselor on staff, not just the receptionist. She gave him and Sam slips of paper to have all of their teachers sign and turn in at the end of the day.
He tried to smile, but he knew it probably came out more like a grimace. He handed one of the schedules and attendance slips to Sam and made sure he was alright before he went off to find his own first period class. It took Sam snapping at him that he could handle walking to class by himself before he realized he was mother-henning a bit too much. Usually he did that when he was nervous. He let Sam head off to his class but still watched him until he was out of sight.
This high school was less than half the size of their school back home, so it shouldn’t be difficult at all to find his own classroom. First, he went back outside to move his car. Ms. Hanscum had instructed him to park in the student lot on the west side of the building. She’d also given him a sticker to put on his windshield to show he was a student. By the time he got back out to his car, other students were arriving. He followed a beat-up Ford into the student parking lot, glad to see his car didn’t stand out around here. A lot of people were driving older or used cars. The exception was a navy-blue Maserati parked at the far edge of the lot. He rolled his eyes at the thought of a teenager driving a fucking Maserati to high school.
He parked the Impala and quickly cut the engine so its noise wouldn’t draw too much attention to him. He already loved the car, but he wanted to keep a low profile, and a rumbling muscle car in the student parking lot probably wasn’t the best way to go about doing that. Grabbing his backpack, he took a deep breath and stepped once again into the frigid air. John’s old leather jacket didn’t do much to cut the chill, but he wasn’t about to toss it. It was the one piece of his father he’d carried with him all of these years, and now that he finally fit into it properly, he never wanted to take it off. They would have to go shopping for some better winter gear before it got really cold though. Their clothes from Kansas weren’t going to cut it.
He took another deep breath as he neared his first class of the day and followed closely behind two teenagers walking into the room. It was smaller than his classrooms back home, but everything seemed smaller here. The people in front of him stopped by the side of the room to hang up their coats on the rack. He didn’t want to part with his jacket, but he did pull it off. He figured he could put it under his seat once he got one.
He took his slip up to the front of the room where a woman stood. According to his schedule, her name must be Eleanor Visyak, and she taught history. She stared at him for a moment when he said his name. That wasn’t a good sign. People had definitely been waiting for the Winchester boys to arrive. So much for keeping a low profile. She sent him to an empty seat after handing him a syllabus.
He scanned the syllabus quickly after he got to his seat. United States History. He’d taken the class last year, but he’d failed it. Reading textbooks and completing homework assignments hadn’t exactly been his priority back then. He doubted this year would be much different. The teacher droned on in the background, but he didn’t pay too much attention to her. He was too nervous about the rest of his first day. He was most nervous about where he would sit come lunch time. He didn't want to be the freak forced to eat lunch all by himself again. The bell finally rang, signaling the end of the period, and he was approached by an attractive girl with dark brown hair and chocolate-colored eyes.
“You’re Dean Henry, aren’t you?” She asked him. She looked like she might be a cheerleader. Girls like her usually didn’t approach him unless they had deep-seated self-esteem issues. He knew he was reasonably attractive, but he also looked like a poor foster kid and had Daddy Issues written all over him.
“It's Dean,” he corrected, and everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at him. His middle name was Henry, and he wondered if his full name was listed on all of his school documents. That would be annoying to have to correct each time.
“Where is your next class?” She asked with a smile. She had very straight, white teeth.
He had to check the schedule in his bag. “English Literature in Room 13.”
“I’m heading to Room 15! I could show you where it is if you want. I’m Lisa, by the way.”
His heartbeat quickened a bit as she kept staring at him. “Okay. Nice to meet you, Lisa.”
She smiled beautifully at him while she grabbed her coat and backpack. It was now nine-thirty, and the sky was finally starting to lighten outside. He noticed the lights inside weren’t the typical fluorescent fixtures seen in a high school. Instead, they were the kind of lights that mimicked natural sunlight. It was probably to try and maintain a normal sense of time, but he doubted it helped. He felt like he should be asleep in bed. They walked to his next class, and he could’ve sworn multiple people were walking behind them closely enough to try and eavesdrop on their conversation.
“So, this is a lot different from Kansas, huh?” Lisa asked.
“Yeah.” He wasn’t quite sure what to say.
“In what ways?”
“Well, Kansas is sunny for one,” he joked.
Lisa giggled musically. “It’s sunny all day in the summer! It’s weird at first, but I promise you’ll get used to it.” He didn’t plan on staying here long enough to get used to it, but he didn’t want to tell her that. She ended up walking him all the way to the door of his next class even though it was clearly marked. “Well, here we are. I hope we have some more classes together!”
He gave her a small wave and stepped inside of the next classroom. The rest of the morning passed in the same way as the first class. He gave the slip to each teacher to sign and sat at the only empty desk in each room. A boy named Kevin was in both his third and fourth periods. When it came time for lunch, Kevin asked if he wanted to sit at a table with his friends. The freshmen had a different lunch period, so he agreed to eat with Kevin since he couldn’t eat with Sam.
The two of them walked through the cafeteria line, but he just grabbed a ginger ale to calm down his nervous belly. Kevin brought him to a long table filled with his friends and introduced him to everyone. He only recognized Lisa from his first class. She came to join them with a girl named Meg. The two of them slid their trays across the table, so they could sit next to him when Kevin got up to grab seconds.
He was trying to shift the focus off of himself and pay attention to the rest of his table mates when he noticed a group sitting at a table on the opposite side of the room. That table was smaller than the rest of the ones in the cafeteria, and only five people sat at it: a girl who had the reddest hair he’d ever seen, a second girl who was gorgeous enough to be a model but looked like she’d tear apart any guy who tried to hit on her, a short boy with shoulder-length brown hair, a girl with dark brown hair and bangs, and finally a younger-looking boy with black hair. Once he noticed them, he could tell all five of them stood out amongst the rest of the student body. They were the kinds of people he could picture starring in a movie or modeling in a fashion magazine, not sitting in a cafeteria in a random small town in Alaska.
From this far away, he couldn’t make out their features very well. None of them seemed to be talking. They just sat and stared in different directions. These people looked like they could be in college or maybe even young teachers. The only ones who looked even remotely high school aged were the red-haired girl and the black-haired boy. As he watched them, the red-haired girl got up smoothly and dumped her tray of food in the trash before leaving the cafeteria. She glided across the room with the grace of a professional ballerina.
“Who are they?” He asked Meg since she happened to be the person sitting closest to him. He figured everyone must know who they were. How could anyone not notice a clique this different in such a small town?
Meg looked to see who he meant, and at the same time, the black-haired teenager glanced up at her for a fraction of a second before his eyes slid over to him. He didn’t look curious like everyone else Dean had met today. He actually looked almost bored. Maybe even annoyed. The teenager looked away almost immediately, but something about that quick interaction left him feeling uneasy.
Meg giggled in embarrassment. “That’s James, Gabriel, Hannah, and Katie Novak. The girl who just got up and left is Charlene Novak. They all live in a house on the outside of town with Dr. Novak and his wife.”
He glanced back towards the strange family, not a clique apparently, and saw the black-haired teenager speaking to the others while he tapped long fingers on the tabletop in a quick rhythm. He was beautiful. Dean turned away quickly, his face heating when he realized he'd just thought of a boy as beautiful.
“They are very… interesting.” He struggled to find a word that could capture the strange fascination he felt when he looked over at them.
“They’re gorgeous, right?” Meg gushed, immediately understanding the unspoken words behind his statement. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper as if the family would be able to hear her from all the way across the cafeteria. “They’re all dating though—Hannah and Charlene, and Katie and Gabriel, I mean—and they live together. It’s kinda creepy.”
Her tone indicated this family was the subject of much of Kotzebue's gossip. Then again, he had to admit it would be very weird back in Kansas as well. He put his soda down, feeling a bit sick at the idea that there were incestuous couples going to the same high school as him. At least Meg seemed to agree it wasn't normal.
“And they’re related?!” He shuddered, feeling queasy again and not just because he’d barely eaten anything all day. “They don’t look related.”
“No, they're are all adopted foster kids. I probably should’ve said that first.” She giggled nervously. “Dr. and Mrs. Novak are both really young, but I guess they couldn’t have kids of their own or something.”
Foster kids, huh, he thought. Maybe he had something in common with them after all. He'd admit it was weird that they were dating each other when they lived in the same house, but hopefully they hadn’t grown up together. Throughout the conversation, he couldn’t keep his eyes from straying back to their table. “Have they always lived here?”
“No, they moved here a couple years ago from some place in Canada."
A wave of sympathy rolled through him. Even though this family had lived here for a couple of years, it was obvious they didn’t fit in. Just like him. As he continued staring at them, one of the Novaks—the one with the black hair—looked over at him again. Dean turned away quickly.
“Which one is the guy with the black hair?” He asked.
He tried to sneak another quick peek across the room and was surprised to see that the Novak boy was still staring at him. It was almost like he’d never been told that prolonged eye contact was creepy. He had a furrow in his brow and looked frustrated for some reason.
“That’s James.” Meg’s voice turned frosty. “He’s obviously attractive, but I’ll give you some free advice. Don’t waste your time because he doesn’t date.”
He almost laughed because it was clear Meg had been rejected by James in the past, but then his brain screeched to a halt when he realized what she was implying.
“Oh, I’m not gay,” he exclaimed, probably a bit too forcefully. His face heated again. It didn’t seem like she’d heard him. He snuck one final look at the odd family and watched as the remaining four of them stood up simultaneously and left the cafeteria right before the bell rang.
Meg had Anatomy with him next period, so she showed him to the right room. When they entered the classroom, it was already mostly filled with students. They’d stayed in the cafeteria a bit late. Lisa waved at him from the back of the classroom, but her lab bench was full.
“I’m sorry, we have assigned seating in here,” Meg said before leaving him to go to her seat.
He stood awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot while he waited for the teacher, Mr. Ganem, to come in. When he did, Dean handed him the attendance slip to sign and waited to be pointed to his seat. His nervous butterflies came back full force when he realized the only empty chair was the one next to James Novak. He couldn't say why this guy made him so uneasy, but he did not look forward to having to sit next to him.
He walked along the aisle towards his new lab partner and watched him stiffen in his seat. James stared at him again, but this time his face was filled with a level of fury he’d never seen on another human being before. The phrase if looks could kill flashed through his mind. He’d been nervous about sitting next to James before, but now he was outright terrified. He didn’t look over as he sat down awkwardly in the seat and opened his textbook. Out of the corner of his eye he saw James leaning away from him. It was like he wanted to get as far away from him as possible, which wasn’t far given that they were right next to each other.
Mr. Ganem lectured to them about the muscular system, but he wouldn’t have been able to keep up on a normal day. His stomach felt stuck in his throat somehow. What the hell had he done to piss this guy off? They hadn’t even spoken to each other.
He couldn’t stop himself from occasionally peeking at Novak only to find that every single time he looked, he stared at him with the same terrifying look in his eyes. The guy didn’t bother taking notes, and it didn’t even seem like he was paying any attention to the lecture. That made two of them. Without looking over at him again, Dean kept his attention focused on him. James had his hands clenched into fists in his lap. He wore a plain white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms that were also tensed. The tan trench coat he’d been wearing earlier hung from the back of his chair, not on the coat rack in the front of the room.
The class seemed to drag on and on. He couldn't tell if it was because the school day was almost over or if it was because of the tension sizzling between him and James. He kept waiting for James to relax, but he never did. He sat so still it looked like he wasn’t even breathing—like he was a wax figure instead of a living person.
What is wrong with him? He’d hastily judged Meg for being jealous earlier, but maybe her hostility towards the Novaks was warranted. He had no idea if this was James’s usual behavior. All he knew was whatever caused his rage couldn’t have anything to do with him.
He looked over one more time and immediately regretted it. James’s eyes were a dark navy blue, so dark they almost appeared black. He’d never seen eyes that color before. The thing he noticed immediately after the strange color was that his eyes were also still filled with what could only be described as hatred. Dean flinched away from him, wishing more than anything he could disappear and then immediately feeling ashamed for letting a teenager intimidate him like this.
Before he could summon the courage to ask what the hell his problem was, James stood up fluidly, grabbing his trench coat and books in one motion. He almost made it all the way out of the classroom by the time the first bell rang. He moved with a speed and grace that was unnatural, much like his foster sister had earlier when she’d left the cafeteria. Dean sat frozen in his chair for a few moments, his mind reeling, as the rest of his classmates gathered their things and got ready to leave. When he managed to do the same, he noticed Lisa staring at him with concern. He grabbed his bag and jacket before walking over to her.
“Do you want me to walk you to your next class?” She asked.
“I have gym next actually,” he said, his voice shaking outside of his control. “I can probably find it on my own.”
“No way! I have gym too!”
He knew he’d eventually get used to having so many classes with the same people. It was bound to happen in a school this small. The two of them walked towards the gym, and he debated asking her about the Novaks. He couldn’t get the look on James’s face out of his mind. It was stupid, but he felt legitimately terrified of his classmate. He couldn’t let anyone know or they’d assume he was some kind of pussy. Scared of a scrawny teenage boy? Dean was slightly taller than him, and probably more muscular as well. He’d fought kids way bigger than him back in Kansas, and he was scared of one nasty look? He didn't end up needing to broach the subject, though, because Lisa did it herself.
“So, did you run over James Novak’s dog or something? I’ve never seen him act like that.”
Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who had noticed his odd behavior. Lisa’s reaction was also proof he didn’t normally act this way. He decided it was best to play dumb. “Was he the guy I sat next to during Anatomy?”
“Yeah,” Lisa said. “He looked like he was angry about something.”
That was the understatement of the year. “Huh, I don’t know. I didn’t say anything to him.”
“That family has always been a bit weird.” Lisa pulled open the door to the gym and let him walk inside first. “If I had been able to sit next to you, I would’ve talked to you.”
He shot her a smile, hoping any of his residual fear didn’t show through it, and headed to the boys’ locker room. He was actually excited for gym class. He’d always excelled athletically, so this should be easy for him. They were going to be playing volleyball this week. It wasn’t one of his favorite sports, but he could hold his own.
When the final bell rang for the day, he almost walked out of the building before he remembered he had to turn in his attendance slip. He got to the front office and almost turned around and walked back out. James Novak stood at the counter talking quietly with Ms. Hanscum. Whatever they were talking about seemed to be getting a bit heated. He knew he shouldn’t, but he tried his best to eavesdrop. He wanted to figure out why James had been so angry earlier in class.
After listening for a few seconds, he understood the gist of their argument. James wanted to transfer out of Anatomy into literally any other class. He couldn’t believe this! There had to be some other reason he wanted to transfer out of the one class they were in together. This couldn't be about him.
The door opened again when a student stepped forward to drop off an envelope. As she walked past him, she displaced the stagnant air, leaving a cool breeze in her wake. James’s shoulders tensed beneath his trench coat much like they had earlier in class. He whipped around, looking at him with the same barely contained fury as earlier. For a second, a wave of hair-raising fear flowed through him. It made him shiver despite the warmth of the office. The stare only lasted a second before James turned back around.
“It’s fine,” James muttered tersely. “Thank you for your help.” His voice was very deep for a high schooler. He exited the office with the same sort of speed he’d left the classroom with earlier.
After the door closed, Dean stepped shakily forward to the desk. Ms. Hanscum stared after James with an odd expression on her face, but it immediately switched to kindness when she saw him standing there. He handed her the attendance slip at the same time as Sam stepped into the office to hand in his own.
“How was your first day, boys?”
“Fine,” he lied. His voice cracked, and Ms. Hanscum gave him a look like she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t press him further. Sam only shrugged.
Sam didn’t talk to him as they trudged through the cold back to the Impala. By the time they got to the car, it was one of the only ones left in the lot. Already, it seemed like home to him—or at least as close to home as he could get around here. Sam watched him curiously as he turned the key to start the car. It roared to life, and he turned the radio up, blasting the classic rock cassette tape he’d brought with him so he wouldn’t have to talk to Sam on the drive home. He didn't want to have to explain why his hands were still shaking.