After accepting Clay’s kindness, I found that school was…actually, not that bad. Having friends…someone to talk to during the breaks, and not being ogled for being the strange loner was something I hadn’t known before. But I liked it a lot. Evans was as cheerful as ever when he announced that we’d share our lunches from now on, right before he gave me one half of his pizza and took away half of my vegetable lasagna. I shot a side-glance at Clay, wondering if he’d told Evans to do so, but the curious look he gave his teammate told me differently. This was just Evans being Evans. 

Whereas the school days became lighter, however, I noticed that the mood during practice had changed significantly. Smiles and fun were being exchanged for frowns and concern; all directed at one of the tall players: Shane Kenner. Despite his tall built and extraordinary muscles, he seemed to be quite a gentle guy who looked out for his friends. But today, his shoulders were slumped, his brows drawn together. And I knew why. 

It had happened during Math. 

“Ewww, something smells like wet mutt.” The girls sitting behind me weren’t even pretending to whisper. 

In a makeshift, I had tried wringing my soaking wet hoodie dry, but it didn’t do any good. As graceful as a three-year-old toddler, I had pulled the hoodie over my head and hung it over the back of my chair.

“Hey, emo, do you own clothes that are not black?” snickered Michelle.

I didn’t reply.

All four of them were part of the cheerleading team and I wondered what they would say had they known that Holland had asked me for help. Not, that I could tell them.

Lucky enough, the door opened, and Mr. Engels entered - but he wasn’t alone. Mrs. Lapels accompanied our old-as-time English teacher which made half of the class groan. The blood-red shoulder bag was an effective means to shut us up. We knew exactly what she was up to. 

Mrs. Lapels loved to do this. Crash another class to return our tests just to pick on the students who failed. Putting the bag onto the brown teacher’s desk, she let her tiger eyes wander over our devastating appearances. 

“Kenji, good job!” She pushed her frameless cat-eye-glasses further up her nose and nodded in encouragement, though, her painted-on eyebrows always made her look a bit skeptically.

Ninety-five percent. Yay!

“Less make-up, more studying is my advice for the four of you.” The snickering bitches behind me groaned about their results.

Karma, baby. Karma.

I put my test into my bag when Mrs. Lapels went to yet another student.

“Mr. Kenner,” sighed our teacher. “I’m sorry, but if your grades don’t start getting better, you’ll have to resign from the soccer club.”

My head shot up. What?

“That…please Mrs. L…”

“The exam is in nine days, Mr. Kenner. If I were you, I’d start taking this matter a bit more seriously.”

So, yes, I kinda got why Kenner was in a bad mood today. 

Friday next week was the scheduled date for our exam, and for Kenner, it had just become more than just a matter of passing or failing. If he failed, he’d lose the Thunderbirds. And the Thunderbirds would lose him. Another player. 

My eyes wandered to Clay who was talking to Coach Simpson. His gaze, however, was locked on the tall defender. I’d written Holland his favorite reads, his habits, his preferred food, and that he couldn’t stand pepper because he’d break out in a sneeze flash. Holland’s response to this was a frown. She probably expected him to be in a secret underground gang or something. Something more…exciting. 

I thought it was exciting because it made him seem…human. 

When the coach ended today’s practice session, I put my English notes down. I was using Clay’s kindness, but now I had finally found a way to give him something back. 

I hurried to put all the pins and balls back into the hut before rushing into the locker room. The showers were still running, most players in the bathroom, but Shane Kenner was standing at his locker, head down, fists balled.

Being in here still made me nervous and the sweat that was running down my spine didn’t result from the heat. Still, I had to do this. The tall boy moved an inch and I jumped unconsciously until I bumped into the lockers behind me. Kenner turned his head, less than happy about the interruption. He looked me up and down with an emotionless face before turning back to his locker. Ripping it open, he tore out a pearl white towel rubbed it over his bald head. 

I gulped. “M…Mr. Kenner?” 

His brows were lifted when he looked at me again. “Mr. Kenner? Who are you? A teacher?” 

“N…no.” I winced. “S…sorry.”

He snorted. “You can call me Kenner, everyone does.”

“Kenner,” I nodded. 

“Whataya want?”

“I…it’s about English.” 

His eyes darkened. “What about English?” 

“Iwannahelp.”

He drew in his dark brows. “Huh?” 

Take a deep breath, Kenji. “I…I want to help you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Help me how?” 

Yeah…how. Shivering from head to toe, I put my backpack down and reached for my test. Wordlessly, I held it out to him. 

He blinked. “Wow, that’s impressive, I guess… Why are you showing me this?” 

I hesitated. “I…if you want to, I’ll help you…study?” 

Kenner regarded me curiously. “You want to help me pass the exam?”

I nodded. 

He made a step closer to me. So close that I could smell the sweat coming from his bare chest that was on eye level with me. “Why?”

I had to put my head back to see his face. “What do you mean, why?”

“I…we didn’t stop Drake when he…”

Oh. That’s what he was getting at.

I could’ve let him drown right then and there, but I didn’t. “But you also didn’t join them.”

“That doesn’t make it any better!”

“No, it doesn't,” I agreed. “But it could’ve been much worse.”

At that, he just kept staring at me. 

Silence expanded between us. Until…

“What’s going on here?” A hand closed around my wrist and suddenly it wasn’t Kenner’s sweaty chest in front of my face, but Clay’s bared back. Little drops of water from his shower were streaming down his perfect skin into the towel that was hanging loosely around his slim hips. His posture was stiff, and I could only imagine what must’ve gone through his head when he saw me with another one of his teammates in this unholy locker room. “Kenner?”

His teammate grumbled. “He offered to help me.” 

“Help you?”

“With English.”

Clay relaxed when he turned his head in my direction. “You did?”

Nervously avoiding his silver eyes, I nodded. “Yeah, I did. But…I don’t want to force him.”

“Force him?”

Oh boy, this felt too much like a game of questions and answers. 

“To spend time with me.” 

Clay released my hand to run his own through his damp hair. There was a pained expression on his face. “Ken…”

“Did you mean it?” 

My puzzled gaze moved from Clay to Kenner, who was still eyeing me with suspicion. 

“Will you help me study, so I’ll pass that stupid exam.”

Gulping, I nodded. 

“Okay, cool.” He closed his locker. “So…how’re we gonna do this?”

I needed a moment to realize that he’d just accepted my offer…and that I had no clue how to tutor another student. “We don’t have much time left before the exam…guess we should study every day?”

Kenner nodded eagerly. 

“Okay, so…I’ll go home and prepare some stuff and we’ll start tomorrow after practice? The library closes at seven…which gives us two hours…Then on the weekend, I’m working from…” I kept on mumbling more to myself than to Kenner but in the end, we had a decent study plan on our hands. 

Satisfied with the plan, Kenner went towards the bathroom but stopped. “I’m sorry,” he looked over his shoulders. “I mean it, Ken.”

I nodded, what else was there to do?

“You ready?” 

While I’d been talking to Kenner, Clay had changed back into his usual outfit of jeans and t-shirt and was waiting at the door for me. 

I nodded and for the first time, I was confident enough to tell Clay to drive me straight home. He seemed surprised about my address, probably knew our district only from criminal news on TV, but he didn’t comment on it. One block away from our apartment, I told him to stop the car. 

“Thanks for the ride,” I mumbled when getting out. 

“You’re welcome,” he said quietly; his eyes were locked on the rotten exterior of the apartment buildings that were closest to us. 

I had managed to make no more than three steps away from his car when I heard the slamming of a door. Turning around, I was drawn into a tight hug that I hadn’t expected. 

“Thank you,” Clay croaked. “Thank you, Ken.” 

Startled, the only thing I found myself capable of, was patting his broad back lightly. 

Closing my eyes, I let him embrace me. 

I’m sorry, I thought. So, so sorry.

Chapter 6 - End