Monday
September 3, 2018

Dmitri looks at the large arm hanging off his shoulder and feels a strange warmth bloom in his chest. Thomas “call me Thommy” Prescott is a cheerful, cute boy outside the classroom and he seems both shocked and grateful that Dmitri has come to his aid without a word. His dark eyes are shining brightly as he practically carries Dmitri through the precinct, waving through the maze of desks and cops. He’s a good boy.

It didn’t take much to get the cops to let him go. They had no real evidence and Thommy was still a minor, which meant that they could not force him to say anything without his parents’ or — as Edison’s rules dictated — Dmitri’s permission. Which Dmitri refused to give, of course.

“You’re a real unfair guy, by the way,” Thommy comments just before they reach the bullpen’s double doors. “You ride in with your badass trench coat flying behind you like some cape and then somehow rip that bastard dog a new one with your fancy big words. How am I supposed to hate you this way?”

“How about you don’t?” Dmitri asks, raising an eyebrow at the giant boy. Seriously, how can a sixteen-year-old brat be over a head taller than him, an adult? “I’m not your enemy.”

“You’re a teacher,” Thommy says it as if it explains everything and maybe it really does. Or at least should. But sadly, no one has informed Dmitri about the reason his kids seem to despise teachers as a default.

“Aww, come on we’re not monsters. I’m here for you guys. Didn’t I just prove that?” He goes as far as jutting his lower lip out in a sulky pout. Thommy laughs and smashes him against his side.

“Yeah, which? Unfair.”

“Should I have left you in there to be grilled by the mu—dogs?”

“Dude, no! If my old man got wind of this…” Thommy shakes his head, a frown marring his face.

Dmitri tries to remember if he knows anyone named Prescott besides his student. It’s not an uncommon name in the elite circles, politicians, prosecutors, judges, and even some stuffy aristocrats bear it with pride and the better than thou attitude that’s so typical for the rich and entitled. Taking a better look at the boy’s face, he still cannot place him despite his better than average memory, but for now, it’s enough that he knows that Thommy is afraid—at least to some degree—of his own father.

“You’re safe… for now. You and your friends are under my care for the time being.” He offers a wide smile full of teeth that only widens when Thommy visibly blanches.

“Don’t get full of yourself,” Thommy warns, but he doesn’t let go of Dmitri’s shoulder. “Just ‘cuz you were real cool in there and I owe you one… if you don’t get Rhys’ seal of approval, you’re dead meat.”

“Rhys, huh?” Dmitri muses just as they walk through the double doors. It’s easy to pick out the two Edison students sitting on the otherwise empty chairs with an officer. Eerie green eyes find him almost instantly, and a horrible thought starts to form in Dmitri’s mind. “Rhys?”

“Rhys! Jamie-boy! Who’s gotta the jailbreak card?” Thommy yells at the same time, confirming Dmitri’s fears.

It’s not too much of an exaggeration to say that his dreams about having an ally, maybe even a confidant in his new class, shatter to a million pieces before his very eyes. Rhys Martinez, his supposed prodigy student, is currently rising to his feet, his cold, flat eyes piercing through Dmitri with distrust despite the grin he plasters on his lips to meet Thommy’s enthusiasm. He would gladly lie to himself and believe that helping one of his students will be his golden ticket to Charlie’s Chocolate Factory, but even he isn’t that naive. Hell, no one can be that naive.

“Officer,” he chooses to address the cop standing apart from his students, badly trying to hide her embarrassed, shameful look. “Thank you for looking after my students.”

“No, no!” She shakes her head, her tight ponytail flying from side to side, nearly blinding her in the process. “It was a pleasure, really. They are really nice young men and they were—” she cuts herself off, blushing. “I mean you must be proud of them.”

She’s fishing for information, which makes Dmitri wonder just what kind of bullshit his brats have spewed while he was doing his best to get their friend off the hook with the coppers. He gives her a vacant smile, slightly more professional than her semi-flustered one, and a noncommittal shrug.

“Always.”

“Even when they get into trouble?”

“Especially then.” There might be more force to his words than needed, but he always hated nosiness and this young thing is really getting ahead of herself. “And even more when they are targeted innocently by adults who should know better.”

She recoils and his students fall silent. James has his mouth hanging open while Thommy’s eyes are wide, openly projecting their shock. Rhys, on the other hand, is much better at concealing his feelings, hiding behind his almost familiar bored expression, and not showing the slightest sign of thawing towards Dmitri. The cheeky little brat.

“We were just doing our job,” the officer tries to defend her colleagues.

“Hm… I’m sure you were. Now if you excuse me, I have three students to safely escort to their homes. I’m sure you understand.” He nods at her, trying to remain civil despite the need to give her a proper dressing down as he did with her boss. Then again, cops have always rubbed him wrong with their hypocrisy and gallant heroics.

She doesn’t reply, which is for the best probably, and Dmitri places his hands on Thommy’s and James’ arms, knowing better than to try to touch Rhys. They understand his silent command to start moving, and for a change, they didn’t try to get smart with him and allow him to lead them out of the building and at least a block away from the precinct before either of them speaks.