The short ride from school is so familiar that I barely look around, keeping my eyes on the road. Still, something catches my eye. A bunch of guys turning into a narrow alley. Nothing special, just a group of schoolkids heading home.

Except that one of them is wearing a "Fake Drug" hoodie. A black one. Like the one Raven had on this morning.

It's not like he's the only one wearing such hoodie, and it's not like I'm supposed to follow him around. I'm not his babysitter.

Still, I pull over at the first available spot and get out of the car. It might be ridiculous to chase every person wearing a "Fake Drug" hoodie, but if it's him, I want to know what he's up to. He's been behaving surprisingly well in the last few days, and the better he acted, the more suspicious I got. When he was being an asshole, at least I knew what I was up against. He's still an asshole, has to be—people don't just change all of a sudden. He's up to something, and if he's going into a deserted alley with a bunch of guys instead of heading straight home, I must find out what that's about.

I reach the alley between two red brick buildings, and step into the shadows, breathing in the rotten scent emanating from the garbage bins by the wall. It's a blind alley, and at the end of it, I can see a small circle of people standing under the wall. I can make out some muffled voices and sounds, and I can see they're moving, but not what they're doing. Then I realize they are kicking someone lying on the ground.

"Hey," I yell, and begin to run.

Before they even turn to me, I burrow into the circle. In the center of it I find a figure in a black hoodie, curled into an embryo position, covering his head with his hands.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I turn and glare at the six guys around me. They're roughly my age and size, some of them a bit shorter. They step back, frowning at me.

"Who are you?" says a blond guy with a sharp chin and a piercing in his left nostril.

"What's that to you?" I snap. "What do you want with this kid?"

"He's not a kid. He's a damn faggot. He sucks cocks for money."

"Does it make you sad?" The boy on the ground coughs and looks up, and now I can see for sure that it's Raven. "That you can’t afford me?"

"Maybe we'll make you do it for free," the guy snaps.

"If you want to lose your dick, sure." Raven gets slowly on his four, and then up to his feet, helping himself on the wall.

"If you want to lose your teeth --"

"Hey, hey," I say, raising my hands. "Raven, shut your mouth. And you—he doesn’t do that, okay? He doesn’t do it for money or anything. As for him being gay, it's none of your business."

The guy frowns. "Are you his boyfriend or something?"

My fist shoots out before I'm aware of it, and connects with his cheekbone, sending him stumbling back. There's a general exclamation of awe from his friends. I hold my fists ready in case any of them try to attack, but they seem reluctant to act without their leader. The blond guy holds his hand to one side of his face and glares at me with one eye.

"You fight like him." He nods at Raven. "Distracting attention, and then—boom! Are you relatives or something?"

I shrug. This is not the time nor the place to go into explanations.

"As far as it concerns you, consider me his brother," I say. "And if your only problem is him being gay, you better keep it to yourself. Next time you bother him, I'll smash your face in."

"He does that all the time," Raven chimes in. "I just tell him who's bothering me, and he comes over and --"

"Shut up," I snarl.

"He called me a chipmunk," the blond guy says.

So, this must be Alvin. That explains, if not justifies, this whole situation.

"Raven!" I turn and frown at him. "Calling him names is bullying."

"Seriously?" He gapes at me. "I've just been jumped by six guys here, and you call me a bully?"

"You are, and they are, and all of you are—bullies!" I snap, my patience hitting its rock bottom. "Just stop this! I'm not supposed to teach you how to behave! If you don’t get along, just stop talking and ignore each other at school, that will solve the problem. Should I notify the school about this?"

"No," Raven and Alvin say in unison.

"Great," I say. "Now, we go home." I grab Raven by the scruff of his neck and pull him out of the circle. He stumbles after me, trying to turn and look at the guys remaining behind.

"And if you don’t leave me alone," he shouts at them, "then he will come with his huge baseball bat and --"

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up," I say, dragging him out of the alley.

Even once we're out on the main street, I keep pulling him after me under the shocked stares of the occasional passersby.

"You can let go now," he says, stumbling after me. "Come on, James, you can let go. Stop being mad. This wasn't my fault. It was them picking on me, all right? James?"

I let go and stop, glaring at him. "How do you always get into shit?"

"Not always." He shrugs, smoothing the fabric of the hoodie. "But what could I do? They followed me. It's not like I did anything to provoke them." He grins mischievously. "Apart from being myself, that is."

"All right," I say. "From now on, you go to and from school with me. And while you’re at school, make sure you keep to places where other people can see you. Don’t let them catch you alone again. Clear?"

"Yep," he says, and his grin gets wider. "All clear, brother."