"Hey…" welcomed the second-youngest brother, fourteen-year-old Bradley, his tone hushed, but his eyes with bags under them curious. He was itching for some gripping story, but Ryu wasn't in the mood for telling tales.
"Hey yourself," Clyde groaned, sounding about as exhausted as Ryu felt. He limped forward wincing and found a spot on the wooden floor beside the other boys. Judging by the way Clyde walked and his eagerness to sit, he must have sprained his leg a little from earlier.
"Is Claudia in?" Ryu asked, trying to sound casual, though just posing the question alone was enough to spike his blood pressure.
A shadow appeared long before they could hear footsteps and shortly before anyone could answer. Their nimble-footed guardian, Kazama—Katsuo Kazama, emerged from behind Ryu and Clyde. The pair spun around to see his unreadable stare. They slapped their arms to their sides and bowed reverently at the hip. The others splayed along the floor immediately halted their gaming and froze in place, none daring to make so much as a twitch. The only sound that could be heard was the distant wail of a soldier and the sorry sound of an armoured tank crashing into dynamite. A deep voice boomed, "GAME OVER."
"You're home late," Katsuo murmured. He stared at Ryu and Clyde for what felt like ions, even if in reality it was less than a couple of seconds, then he strolled on by. The sudden rush of fall night air breezed against their backs and the sound of a slamming door jarred their senses. Katsuo had left. He wasn't in a good mood tonight, but so what if they were late? It's not like they could be expected to actually keep a curfew on days like this.
The tension in the air gradually faded, and the boys were finally able to breathe again.
"Whoa, Kit's pissed," Clyde intoned, looking a mixture of amused and horrified. "Kit," short for Kitsune, was Clyde's version of the pet name Claudia had given Katsuo, Ki-kun. Clyde often called him by a name too—though never to his face. "Claudia's late again, ain't she?"
Ryu rolled his eyes. He never understood why Clyde bothered to speak that way. The way the others did. Clyde was a total nerd and besides, of all of them there he had the most normal upbringing.
"Yeah, he ain't mad about Claudia. He's probably madder about Ty," mumbled a sleepy-eyed, fourteen-year-old Dan.
As though he'd been summoned, Tyler came stumbling past the main living quarters. No longer in the Ed Hardy windbreaker and old sweatpants he had worn earlier, he now had on a white sleep shirt and oversized Ed Hardy shorts, the design heavily faded. Not making eye-contact with the others, like they weren't there at all, Tyler went into the kitchen and came out of it, a bag of ketchup chips pinched between his pale, spindly fingers. Then, down the hall he went until he was gone again. It wasn't like him to just walk in and out of a room like a ghost. The kid craved attention. Even in that moment, he probably still wanted it. Most likely his quick exit was because he didn't want anyone to ask him anything. But none of them had to. It wasn't rocket science. Tyler had gotten home first, before Ryu and Clyde, and as Ryu expected Tyler was in deep trouble with Katsuo for his nonsense this time.
The bluish welt glaring on the side of his face made that much clear.
A few short seconds later, the front door opened and slammed again. They all jumped where they stood or sat, nerves on edge. Silently anxious, perhaps all thinking to themselves that Katsuo had returned, they held their breaths. Instead, it was Albert, the last of the four to arrive. They breathed their collective sighs of relief. Yuan, the youngest brother at age thirteen, swore loudly.
"Well, glad that's over," Albert declared with a yawn.
He peeled his brown-black hair from his face like twin drapes as he staggered into the room. He collapsed and joined the other boys on the floor, reaching for an old drink-stained cushion in the corner for his backside. Yuan and Dan resumed their game, upset about having lost yet another tank and three hostages to stealth bombers.
"What's up? Who died?" Albert said teasingly. He directed this to the non-gamers, probably sensing the sombre mood and trying in his usual awkward way to end it.
Who died? David Singh, Ryu wanted to say, but instead he remained silent as he fell back against a wall with crossed arms. Nobody spoke for at least a minute, not until a deep sigh of surrender was heard among one brave soul.
"Katsuo's pissed-off. You know, the usual Tyler thing," Dan said between hurling one of two remaining hand grenades at a dude that looked a lot like the guy with the nice leather jacket. Ryu frowned. He'd forgotten to grab the jacket for himself before leaving.
What a waste.
"Oh," Albert breathed. He didn't say anything to fan the flames about Tyler. He rolled his shoulders, a little sluggish. "Well, stuff happens."
"It worked out, though. They didn't see it coming at all," Clyde gloated, seeming suddenly more awake than he had been when he first came through the door.
"What do you expect from a guy who goes by 'Wild Dog’? Least original name there is," said Albert.
Clyde punched the air as though re-enacting his part. "I knocked that short, fat one right upside the head!"
"Really? That's–sick," said Bradley, his words slurring together as they often did. "So the briefcase thing really worked, huh?"
Albert threw back his head and hooted.
"Yo, those Vipers are straight-up clowns! A briefcase? Only the biggest cliché ever, and they still fell hard for it. Like, literally, cause I hit 'em with it!"
Ryu groaned at their peals of laughter, leaving the wall to seat himself on the only sofa in the room. He immediately shuffled to the right, ignoring that one wayward spring that always, without fail, stabbed him in the thigh. Sitting on that side first was a habit he wished he knew how to kick.
"Hey, let's not talk about tonight, all right?" Ryu said.
It wasn't a request. It was a command from their aniki, their older brother. Seeming to only now detect Ryu's mood, the boys quickly dropped the topic. Clyde left them for the kitchen while the rest who weren't gaming fought exhaustion and feigned interest in the combat onscreen.
"So those clothes from the church? They seem pretty dope," Bradley began conversationally.
"Yeah. Seriously, there's some really nice jeans and stuff in there. I'm telling you guys, those rich kids are from a whole other world," Dan agreed.
Albert stroked his chin. "There were three bags, right? I need to take a look. I got holes in a couple of mine."
"You'll be okay. All the large stuff will fit you, but Ty wears the same size as a couple of us. And we all know he'll take all the nice stuff first. He even sleeps in them."
Clyde snickered, now returned with a Red Bull.
"Yah, so none of y'all steals it in the middle of the night."
Ryu glimpsed blearily at his watch. It blinked 12:49 AM. Twelve forty-nine. Why was he still up? Why were they still up? Now Clyde had an energy drink? At twelve forty-nine?
Ryu scrambled to his feet, fighting the sinkhole his weight had formed in the couch. He hated this couch and this conversation. And these guys? It was times like this, discussions like this, that made Ryu resent them and this house most of all.
"Hey, Aniki, your friend brought those clothes, right?"
Ryu stopped in his tracks, feeling a vein pulse in the back of his neck. He looked over his shoulder to glare, though a little harsher than he had intended, at Dan.
"My friend? What the hell are you talking about?"
Dan flinched. "C-Claudia said something about you looking like you knew them. You do know them, right?"
"Oh yeah, I heard that too," added Clyde. "That girl wore the same uniform as you. She's from your school, ain't she?"
Ryu had heard enough. It seemed one way or another he'd be firing more shots before daybreak.
"Shut the hell up, Clyde! 'Ain't this,' 'ain't that'—stop trying to sound street—you just sound like an idiot." Then Ryu rounded on the others. "You guys are pathetic. Someone gives you their trash and that makes you happy?"
Ryu str
uck something within Clyde; whatever joy and swagger he had minutes ago packed up and left, only to be replaced with the blank stare of a nerdy, fifteen-year-old kid in oversized clothing. Controllers clattered against the wooden floor. Glowering, Dan and Bradley stepped over. Even Yuan who rarely showed interest in anything without a monitor seemed to be staring hard and listening closely. Albert didn't move as he looked on with his mouth lolled open, forming an "o."
"We're 'pathetic,' now?" Dan said in a tone that sounded way too chill to be credible.
"Not everyone could be the Chosen One like you," Bradley derided, hands clutched at his sides.
Ryu truly didn't care at this point. He threw his arms in frustration and turned from them. He trudged through the hall Tyler had disappeared into and headed for the staircase.
"Yeah," he barked over his shoulder. "I'm the 'Chosen One.' Chosen to deal with you tools."
Ryu had made a mistake trying to at all argue with them. He just wanted to sleep. He just wanted this night and this week to be done.
Haruna didn't understand Ryu Debiru.
There was a certain meanness to him that she never experienced from anyone before. It was a meanness she never wanted to get to know any further because anyone touched by it was left with a scalding, stinging hurt. All her years at the Academy she had committed herself to avoidance of him. No questions. No second guesses. But the fact that Ryu was a resident of this mysterious place called "Heaven," piqued her interest. She had always imagined him to be a spoiled brat with busy parents—but a kid with no parents? No family? In light of this discovery, though she loathed to admit, Haruna wanted to know it all. She wanted to know everything. That hoodie he wore over his uniform, often, whenever he had the chance; was that just another something someone had donated to the orphanage? A boy who lived in something like a group home, who lived on the east side of Campbelton, who rode the city bus—why would he go to an expensive private school on the west? Why even bother?
"It's simple," Mani had said when she had relayed her thoughts to him during the drive back to the church on Friday evening. "Obviously, his parents had enrolled him into the school before they passed away. And the money from his inheritance is paying for his tuition."
Money was one matter, but grades were another. Ryu always seemed out of it, never too driven or focused on anything. How did he maintain his grades?
"Well that's easy," Mani explained on Saturday evening, right after rehearsals with the Youth Choir. "The fact that he's an Academy student doesn't mean he's smart, either. He's probably a charity case. Every private school's got at least one. Who wants to kick out an orphan? It would make the administration look nasty."
But the more Mani would explain, give justifications and provide reasons, the more Haruna had questions. The answers made sense, but Ryu—Ryu didn't make sense.
"Just don't worry about it. Get some sleep, babe," Mani said tiredly on Sunday evening when she had called him after their long day at church together. Each time they had discussed it and closed the topic for the day, Haruna would respond dimly with "I love you's" and "good night's." That night, she didn't bother. She clicked the hang-up button on her cell and tossed it onto her dresser.
The mattress gave way to a gentle creak as she shifted to stare at the ceiling, her hand at her chest fiddling with her golden tear-drop necklace. Don't worry, Mani said. She wasn't worried—she was confused—and no matter how she tried, she couldn't stop wondering about it. She remembered like yesterday that September years ago when she first started at the Academy. She was twelve-years-old. Ryu was that weird kid who she'd ignore or pass cautiously in the halls, that kid whose parents were always late to get him. Was it possible that Ryu's parents weren't late those days? Weren't late because they didn't exist?
Haruna's entire weekend, starting from the minute their eyes met at the gate of that large old house, felt surreal. She shut her night lamp off and closed her eyes. She definitely needed sleep and though sleep came easy, rest did not.
Haruna was starting to lose count of how many times she had attempted to speak to Ryu since that Friday evening visit. Though a part of her yearned to ask about why, how he had even managed to keep that part of his life secret from the entire school all these years, she also felt something like guilt creep up now and again. Guilt, because for all the years that she had assumed so much about him, she was beginning to realise his hardened ways must have been from being orphaned. Maybe tragically. Someone like that needed support. And real friends, role models and guidance, unlike the slackers he was always hanging around with.
She thought of the past Sunday homily, emphasizing mercy and the need to help others. Maybe she needed to help him? Yet more than this, their assignment loomed in the forefront of her mind like a nagging beast. She wished Ryu would take it seriously, and yet she couldn't even approach him. He was always surrounded by his friends, and they were always smoking something—and she wasn't about to make the mistake again of triggering an asthma attack. It didn’t help that since her past trip-up in the halls, a couple of them had taken to making catcalls.
Ryu himself was a master of allusiveness, appearing in the hallways and disappearing again as though he'd never been there. After their fifth period class, Haruna's only remaining opportunity to find him, he was always in a rush. Gone. Frustrating didn't begin to describe what this was.
Then the thought finally hit.
She knew where he lived. Why not go there? As Haruna stared intently at the clock, Mr. Lee droning away, she waited for the bell to ring. When it did, again Ryu was gone. So she was too, snatching up her belongings and racing like a cheetah through the halls. She checked where he and his usual friends hung out after school—and there they were, all of them. She decided to kill time in the study hall with some other homework. At quarter to five, she made up her mind to head out. If Ryu wasn't home when she got there, she would remain there anyway. She would wait for him.
CHAPTER six
disturbing the peace
The foul, suffocating stench of burnt rice and too much fish sauce made all of 893 Wood Valley Crescent reek for hours on end. As soon as Ryu had crossed the gate and entered the house he could feel his senses overload as the vapours stung in the back of his nostrils. It seemed most of the boys save for Yuan, who was sensitive to sounds and smells, had become numb to the odour which had lingered since morning. It took all the willpower Ryu had to refrain from lashing out at Dan for his persistent attempts at trying to cook.
All of the boys took turns cooking, and some were worse at it than others. Ryu wasn't bad, but he was lazy. Tyler had done the usual thing, dodging his responsibilities as the oldest boy. This included cooking when no one else had. So Dan had taken matters into his own hands.
Now it was dinner time, and it seemed the leftovers from "breakfast" were once again on the menu.
"Konbanwa, Aniki," Clyde greeted Ryu as Ryu skulked deliberately past them.
"Your pronunciation sucks," Ryu groused, then he looked at the others in disgust. "Why can't you guys just make a sandwich or something?"
"I wanted real food!" protested a pouting Dan. "Not my fault nobody ain' ever showed me how to use the stove right."
It really wasn't his fault.
After a long day of pretending school and homework were the only things they had to do within twenty-four hours of any given day, it seemed only fair that one of the adults would help.
Fair was never an option.
Katsuo had always insisted the boys needed to be responsible for themselves in every way, including being fed. Ryu suspected that Katsuo was probably a worse cook than even Dan was, and Claudia didn't care if any of them ate. Though she always seemed to be eating something tasty and aromatic to match.
So by the time Ryu had come home from school, Dan was eating whatever crap he was passing off as food and Clyde and Bradley were taking turns daring each other to taste it. Predictably, Yuan saw no humour in their little game as he
sat off to the side, eating the same thing he always did, instant noodles. Albert was nowhere in sight—probably late from school or off doing a job. Ryu figured he would be skipping dinner that night, so he bee-lined up the stairs for the room he shared with Tyler. He breathed a sigh of relief, glad that Tyler wasn't in it. He threw his school bag to the floor and collapsed onto the stiff mattress of the bottom bunk. He drifted off, his slumber bringing forth a peaceful dream. A peaceful dream that suddenly featured a voice that was unmistakably Clyde’s.
The dream at once was robbed of its peace.
Yuan was the first to react to the strident ping of the front gate. It was rare that the intercom ever went off so the one-off noise triggered his angry, profanity-laden outburst. It was that outburst that drew the others' attention to the CCTV screen.
"Yo, it's that girl again!"
"Did she bring more stuff for us?"
Bradley stared at the tiny monitor. He stroked his chin as Dan hovered ponderously over his shoulder. Standing before the gates was the teenage girl from the West Campbelton church. She was dressed in the uniform Shady Glenn Academy students were known for, green plaid and navy-blue. Over her shoulder was an expensive-looking Coach messenger bag.
"I dunno," intoned Clyde between bites of what was supposed to be stir-fry and sticky rice. He stared sceptically along with them. "Should we let her in?"
"Too late," chuckled Dan, who had already pressed the release button and from inside they could hear the old rusted gates slide and swing open. The boys hightailed for the door. Yuan held back, content to peel away the curtains and observe guardedly from the window as the girl started up the footpath.
"Uh, what are you doing?"
The boys spun around, caught off guard as Tyler appeared behind them. He stared crossly at the CCTV screen with folded arms. "Who the hell is that?"
Judge by the Cover: High School, Drama & Deadly Vices (Hafu Sans Halo Book 1) Page 10
