Whether ornot the werekanima expected him to go ahead and do as he had told him to wasnâtcertain. But one thing was; he didnât fight back, he didnât try to block any ofthe hits. Everything screamed at him was a scorn on his cold heart, taking itas it were. Not something very characteristic for him, given that usually theroles were reversed in such situations. Jacksonâs ears had been ringing andwerenât focusing, at least not enough to hear those new voices. What wasnâtsurprising was that no one had come to him, no one had comforted him when hewas left bloodied on the floor. The numerous wounds made them slower to heal,and heâd remained there on the classroom floor until he could move again.
âââââââââ-
The nexttime the two boys met each other was in the locker room. Jackson had stayedback later than the rest of the team, trying to wash off the residue from theirvictory. It didnât feel that good anymore, or at least not nearly as good as ithad before he was a co-captain. He heard a sound or two coming from theopposite side of the lockers, the row closer to Coachâs office, but ignored it.Jackson just dried off, pulled on his sweats and was heading towards the sink,shirt half pulled over his head when he quite literally ran into Isaac.
Tugging theshirt down now, nearly getting an elbow in the face (his own), his gaze landedon the other teenager and he almost froze. It had been all awkward silences andavoidance since that day, and if it were possible Jackson had grown evencolder. On some level he was preparing himself for another beat down, so hejust..stared.
        Isaac was putting off the walk home. Derek had been extra quiet since his fight with Jackson, and he hadnât really thought Derekâs company mattered much until it was even colder than usual. He usually just stayed up in his bed playing phone games, but he could play phone games in the locker room, too, so he did that instead. Change of scenery, he told himself despite the stench of sweat.
     He wasnât really paying attention to his surroundings, but his 15% battery warning popped up, so he was standing, walking, saving his progress-- when he bumped into something that was definitely half-naked. Before he could look up and register who the hell was still in the locker room so late, his phone toppled out of his hands and onto the tile floor. It landed face down, and he prayed it wasnât cracked.
     But he didnât stoop down right away because he knew who heâd bumped into now. His glare was immediate and instinctive. Even though all the wounds were healed, obviously, a guilty knot he refused to think about sort of twisted in his gut, and he sure as hell wasnât going to let Whittemore know it.
        âWatch where youâre going, snake,â he snapped, then dropped down to grab his phone. It was cracked and dark. Figures. His glare returned to Jackson. âAnd you owe me a new phone.â