Chapter Text
"Look, Clay, help me out here."
Clay was sat in the chair across from the counselor's, Mr Porter's, desk after being called in at about the halfway mark in last period English Lit. Everyone had stared as he made his way out of the classroom, and he had found himself praying that whatever this was about would be over quickly.
Mr Porter shifted around in his seat, placing his arms on the desk, then taking them off. Putting them back on again.
"Justin is a straight F student, a C on a good day. If he carries on like this, especially with all the infractions he's getting, he'll held back a year, or worst case scenario, expelled by the end of the semester. Now I know you don't want that, Clay. No one does. But with your help, this little bit of tutoring, he could really go somewhere. I know this is a lot to ask for, but I picked you because I know you can do it." He leaned forward and his whole face glowed with hope.
Clay balked. Mr Porter had gotten him, struck him right at his weakest. He was right, Clay didn't think he would be able to sleep at night knowing he was the reason someone had no future, the reason they had to go home to their parents' disappointed faces and explain why they had to retake Junior year.
But then he thought back to all the times Justin had sat back and watched with that stupid easy smile as Bryce and the rest of the jocks picked on him, shoved him into lockers and called him names, then spread rumours about him that made him a total pariah. They were the the worst of the worst, real wastes of space. And plus, he wasn't even sure that Justin knew he was alive, like as a living, breathing human being and not another face in the crowd. Why would he help someone who didn't know the first thing about him, like his name?
So how was it Clay's problem that Justin couldn't pass any of his classes except gym? Maybe he had to learn the hard way.
Mr Porter was still waiting, staring expectantly at Clay's still figure.
"Sorry, Mr Porter, it's a no. I don't think I have time for it." He said the last part like a question, resolutely avoiding eye contact. The counselor sighed.
"Clay I know that's not true, I look through everyone's files. You don't do any school mandated extra curricular activities, and I've checked with your parents - yes I am allowed to do that, before you say anything, (Clay shut his mouth and held back his half formed protest) and you also don't do anything outside of school either."
"I think this would be good for you too, not just Justin. I know you guys don't know each other and aren't necessarily friends-"
"That's an understatement-"
"-but think of this as a good opportunity. You have something extra to put on your college essay, and Justin isn't held back a year. It's a win-win situation."
Clay scoffed, but his resolve was slowly melting away. He gave in. He was definitely going to regret this.
He threw his hands up.
"Okay fine. Whatever. I'll do it."
Mr Porter smiled.
"I've already spoken to Justin about this arrangement and he's ready to start whenever. This is good Clay," he promised and Clay almost believed him.
"You're really helping out here."
By the time he was released from Mr Porter's cagey office, Clay walked down an empty hallway; well aware of the fact that every lucky, normal person was at home by now, and Tony was probably going to kill him for making him wait so long. He speed walked through the exit, and sure enough, there was Tony's car, parked in front of the school, and though Clay couldn't see his face he assumed his frown could possibly curdle milk right now.
Tony rolled down the car window and stuck his head out. Clay was correct.
"Dude. What took you so long?"
Clay opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat, and Tony immediately set off driving.
As they turned the corner past The Crestmont, blasting Tony's mixtape and some of Clay's requests, he yelled over the music:
"They're forcing me to tutor Justin Foley, can you actually believe it?"
Tony glanced at him, pausing mid lyric, before reaching over to turn down the music, "So that's why you were in there for so long. What did 'they' say exactly?"
"Mr Porter thinks I'm this child prodigy and wants me to use my magic powers to miraculously fix Justin's grades," he replied, rolling his eyes. Tony laughed as they pulled nearer into Clay's neighbourhood.
"Well what did you say? Please don't tell me that you went all people pleaser and gave in." Clay cringed.
"I couldn't really say no?" Tony sighed exasperatedly.
"You can always say no, Clay, that's what free will is there for."
"You weren't there. It was like Mr Porter was trying to guilt trip me or something, he went really personal and sappy on me." He rubbed a tired hand across the side of his face.
"I don't know, I felt bad."
Tony raised a disbelieving eyebrow as Clay turned to look out of the car window.
"You felt bad for Justin Foley? Really?"
Clay shook his head, squinting through the autumn sun. "It was more like feeling bad for Mr Porter, I think? You should've seen him, you would've said yes too." Tony chuckled.
"Not me man. That's all you," he said, and Clay realised that they had already pulled into his driveway.
"So you're saying you would've let him retake the year?" Tony stretched his hands over the steering wheel.
"Yes. The guy's a dick." Clay laughed, a full body laugh that he really needed after the day he had. He came out of the car and shut the door, walking up to his house before shouting a quick 'thank you for the ride' over to Tony, who waved at him as he drove away. The moment Clay was through the front door, he could his dad's voice drift in from the kitchen.
"Something come up? You're a little later than usual." Clay kicked his shoes off and walked into the kitchen, where his dad was cleaning up after dinner, which he had evidently missed. His mom was sat at the table with a rainbow of paperwork splayed out in front of her and turned around to look at him, smiling.
"Just forgot the time. Can I eat dinner later, please?" His mom nodded knowingly.
"Of course, Skype with Hannah. Don't be up too long, your food's already cold," she replied, but Clay was already running up the stairs.
He shut the door to his bedroom, picked his laptop, opened it and sat on his bed, then he scooched backwards so his back pressed against the headboard. He missed Hannah badly, it felt weird going to school every day and not seeing her there.
"Hey Helmet," Hannah said, her face lighting up the screen. Clay grinned back at her.
"I still can't believe they let you have your laptop in there. Doesn't that break, like, a thousand rules?" Hannah shrugged easily, playing with a strand of her short hair. Clay remembered when she'd first came into her shift at The Crestmont with it all chopped off. He had stared and stared until she huffed and asked him what was wrong.
"Your hair. I um. It looks great like that. Short?"
Hannah had laughed, shook her head. "Thanks Helmet."
"It's a psych ward, not a prison. Or maybe I charmed them so well they let me break the rules here," she said playfully, and for once Clay wasn't looking at the bandages on her wrists, because it felt good to see her like this again, happy and healing.
"Of course. Queen Hannah rules Montgomery Hospital." Hannah laughed and they lapsed into an easy silence.
"So anything going on the outside? School drama? Come on Clay, dish." Clay groaned.
"Its's boring, you don't want to know."
"Of course I want to know! I'm bored out of my mind here, everything's 'calming exercises' and 'the healing process'.
"Well, you'll be horrified to know that I'm being forced to tutor Justin Foley, on Monday. My life sucks."
Hannah gasped. "Details. Now," she demanded, doing that thing where she grabbed her laptop in a way that Clay knew meant that she was virtually grabbing his shoulders.
"Well Mr Porter called me into his office and kinda begged me to do it? I don't know, he was all like 'You don't want him to be held back a year, do you?' and 'I know you can do this Clay.' Super Serious stuff, total guilt trip," he complained.
"And of course, in true Clay fashion you said yes..?"
Clay pressed his lips together. Hannah raised her eyebrows.
"I knew it! Clay we really have to teach you how to say no to these kinds of things, it's like you're allergic to standing up for yourself."
"I did stand up for myself! It's just, he started pulling up my files and talking about college. My brain went soupy," he sighed, looking everywhere but the screen.
"Hmmm. Maybe they're running some underground jock reformation project. Mr Porter's just a puppet," Hannah says wisely, and Clay laughs.
"And Principal Bolan is the puppet master?" he replies, playing sceptic.
Hannah nods. "Right on the money, Helmet. Soon they'll have you tutoring the whole basketball team," she teased, laughing as Clay groaned dramatically. There was a comfortable beat of silence before Hannah spoke up again.
"But still..."
"Still what?"
"He's kinda cute don't you think?" Clay rolled his eyes, making sure Hannah could see how annoyed he was.
"No, I really don't think. Never thought of that, never going to, never even formed the thought in my head," he said stoically, but he could feel his face get warm.
"You're blushing, you totally have!"
"Hanging up now Hannah," Clay warned, and now she was laughing so hard there were tears in her eyes. He sat back and just listened to the sound of it.