Page 122 of Satan's Spawn

Mr. Beckett visibly swallows. He knows he’s said something he shouldn’t have, and the way his eyes dart to Saint proves just that. “Oh, yeah. I believe the flu.”

What a steaming crock of shit, but I don’t call him out on it. Chances are he’s just another lower link in this hierarchical chain we found ourselves connected to.

I glance over at Saint who seems as though he’s contemplating approaching us, unsure how far I want to take this conversation since it’s clear Beckett is already regretting saying anything.

The debate gets cut short by the guilty party. “I know I should’ve said this sooner, but I think it’s really nice what you’re doing for Crayton. Stepping up to make sure he gets all of his work.”

It’s nearly impossible to hold back the laugh that’s threatening to break free, but I manage, remembering I have only myself to blame for getting into this situation.

“Yeah, it’s nothing really.” I tell him, ignoring the regret laced in the words.

“It’s something, trust me. Not many people in this building have a lot of faith in Crayton. But I do, so it’s nice knowing you do too.”

I want to throw up. Physically throw up.

Not only because of how wrong Mr. Beckett is about my intentions, but because of how wrong he is about Crayton’s.

It’s sad that a decent guy like him is trying so hard to help someone who would probably walk right over his corpse on the floor without a second thought.

I choose to be honest with him also, because I am who I am. “I guess I feel like everybody deserves a chance until they prove they don’t.”

Mr. Beckett seems impressed by my statement. “I couldn't agree more. It’s why I push my students as hard as I do. Especially Mr. Shaw.” He winks, nodding his head Saint’s way. “That stays between us peasants, though, yeah? I don’t need the vultures thinking I have a chink in the armor.”

I like seeing this side of Mr. Beckett. Outside of his strict classroom demeanor and much more playful.

It reminds me there are other actual humans existing inside this building.

“Deal.” I tell him, holding up the paper he gave over to me. “I’ll make sure to get this to him.”

“Perfect.” He gleams. “Because I’m working closely with Cillian, his Dad, who’s making sure every assignment is completed.”

Interesting.

“Sounds like Mr. Shaw has high expectations for his son as well.”

“Oh, yes. He sees his potential just as much as I do. We’re doing everything we can to make sure he passes junior year.”

It’s about time the universe throws me a damn bone.

Seems to me like Cillian Shaw is taking Crayton’s car hostage situation as seriously as his son is taking my medicine.

And I may have just found a way to use that to my advantage.

23

BEX

Some say magic can be found in madness.

Mercy in malice.

They come in the form of lessons learned which help you avoid these circumstances in the future.

Cruel people teach you about your expectations and how high you want to raise them.

Fits of rage help find your center which leads you back to your humanity.

But what about those who lack both?