Page 30 of Volatile King (The Kings of Wayward Academy #6)

B lake

Every footstep was a second guess. Why the hell had I agreed to help tutor these kids? It had to be momentary insanity because I didn’t know the first thing about teaching.

The shaking started the moment I walked into Bowman Hall.

I stopped and took a breath, letting the silence of the otherwise empty building fill me.

Dean Henry had said that these kids were already on their last chance.

So, I used that knowledge to keep my focus where it was needed.

I had no idea where you went, but if Wayward was your last chance, it couldn’t be good.

I was lucky to have such great parents, my brother, and, of course, my friends, who were there for me.

Otherwise, I might not have been standing here.

Everyone needed a support system, and maybe I could be that for someone else.

I didn’t flinch.

“Alright,” I said, dropping my notebook on the desk with a solid thunk .

“This is tutoring, not aggression therapy, so don’t bother trying to unpack your issues in here by attacking me.

I’m Blake. I’m a senior. I know this building, the halls, those seats, and what it’s like to be in your position better than anyone else.

If you want to pass, I can help you. If you want to screw around, then I can leave and enjoy my hour of not babysitting. Your call.”

I’d spent time memorizing the folder Dean Henry gave me and knew each one of these kids, the trouble that landed them in here, and the issues that led us here in the first place.

It was like staring at young versions of the Kings.

Broken homes. Abusive parents. Family or friends who had died.

Abandonment issues. Or feeling like they would never amount to anything as they tried to find a way to look cool.

High school was like a murky pond filled with danger, and they were trying to wade to the other side without being dragged under or eaten alive.

Sawyer smirked like I’d just challenged her to a duel.

Ezra looked me up and down with the lazy confidence of someone who didn’t think much of authority, or people in general.

Remy kept fidgeting with his sleeve like he might disappear if he pulled hard enough.

Mackenzie stared out the window, headphones still on, emotionally MIA.

Bonnie glared at me from under the hood of her massive sweatshirt, like an angry turtle.

Angel slouched in his seat, thumb hooked in the waistband of his pants, eyes calculating, like he was the head of a gang.

Troy had his head on his desk, one eyeball showing, but struggling to stay awake.

Camden sat at the back with his arms folded and his expression locked tight—like he’d already built a wall and dared me to scale it.

Fine. Walls were just invitations in disguise.

I picked up a marker and wrote on the board. One reason I gave up. One reason I didn’t.

“That’s the warm-up,” I said. “No names. You don’t have to show anyone. Just write it. Or draw. Whatever works. I’ll give you five minutes. Don’t overthink it. There is no wrong answer. It’s personal and everyone will be different.”

Ezra groaned. “This is what we’re doing? Looking at you, I would’ve thought you were the cool tutor.”

“Cool is a subjective word,” I said. “What is cool to you may not be cool to Mackenzie.”

Her eyes flicked in my direction at the sound of her name, confirming that despite wearing headphones and staring out the window, she was the most dialed-in.

“Come on. This is easy. There are far worse things I could get you to do. How do you feel about memorizing a monologue from Shakespeare and performing it in front of everyone?

“Ugh…hell no,” Angel said, and picked up his pen.

They didn’t love what I asked them to do, but they didn’t refuse either. That was a win.

Some scribbled with defiance, some with actual thought. Camden didn’t move at first, but eventually, he started writing.

When time was up, I collected all the papers. Some were folded neatly. One was torn. Camden, true to the image he was trying to portray, crumpled his paper into a tight little ball and tossed it at me. He reminded me the most of Nash. Arrogant, volatile, and ready for a fight.

I snatched the paper out of the air and kept going. I didn’t flinch, get angry, or even look at it. Instead, I grabbed my notebook, tucked all their papers inside, and slid it into my backpack. Then I walked to the door, opened it, and looked over my shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

Sawyer blinked. “Go where?”

“Outside.”

“But…aren’t you supposed to be tutoring us?” Sawyer looked ready to argue.

“You want to sit inside and read out of textbooks?”

“I don’t,” Remy said, standing.

“Good, because this is my class, and I’ve got clearance from Dean Henry to do whatever I want. Full leash. I could take you to a cliff and shove you over,” I said, and their eyes got wide. I smirked. “I’m joking.”

Troy finally lifted his head but frowned. “Seriously? You’re going to make us walk.”

“Dead serious. You’d think a track star would be the most interested in going for a walk.”

“I’m conserving my energy,” Troy said, and the rest snorted or laughed.

I stood there patiently, waiting for them to make a choice. They hesitated a few more seconds but finally followed.

Curiosity always beats rebellion if you know how to bait the hook.

We cut across the south end of the parking lot, the sunlight peeking between the pines as we passed the last of the buildings.

They naturally walked in two lines as they muttered and dragged their feet like a group of ragtag soldiers.

Camden stayed in the very back with Mackenzie.

He had his hands in his pockets, scuffing the gravel.

I didn’t push. I let the silence carry us.

The trail led toward a clearing where the trees opened to a pond. It was where I’d come clean about being a virgin to Ren and Myles. I smirked at the memory of how Myles had almost choked to death on his sandwich.

The water was still and looked like a mirror ringed by reeds and cattails, quiet as a secret. I’d found this spot my first year, while trying to disappear without actually running. It had kept me company ever since, and so had the birds that lived here.

“This…” I set my bag down on the lone picnic table. “Is the part of campus that most of your teachers pretend doesn’t exist. No cameras. No guards. No pressure. Just air.”

Sawyer crossed her arms. “Are we meditating now or something?”

“Nope. We’re birdwatching,” I said, and smiled.

Angel and Bonnie groaned as they rolled their eyes.

Ezra laughed. “You’re joking.”

“You see that log out there?” I pointed to a half-submerged shape in the middle of the pond. “Watch it.”

I was so attuned to this area that I had already spied the flash of bluish, grey feathers that the rest wouldn’t have even noticed. A few seconds passed, and then there was movement.

A great blue heron unfolded like a shadow shaken loose. Wings spread wide, slow and graceful, lifting off the log and slicing the air right over our heads.

“Holy shit,” Remy whispered.

“Yup,” I said. “You don’t see that sitting at a desk.”

The group went still. Even Mackenzie had her headphones lowered around her neck now as we watched the bird disappear over the trees.

“There’s a pair that nests nearby,” I added. “Herons are monogamous during mating season.”

“What does that mean,” Sawyer asked.

“It means that they pick one partner and share parenting duties. Some pairs stay together year after year.”

Ezra cocked a brow. “Why the bird facts? I’m not getting how this is going to help me pass my classes.”

“Because they’re honest. Birds don’t fake their instincts.

They don’t lie about their moods. And watching them reminds me that survival doesn’t have to mean shutting down.

You can be alert and still be…present.” I made eye contact with each of them.

“That means you need to be honest with yourself. I’ll happily help you with your classes, but not until you are ready to help yourself.

” I held my arms out. “This is step one.”

Sawyer shifted. “Do you always talk like that?”

“Only when I’m trying to avoid losing my mind.” I smirked.

“You look familiar,” Troy said.

I shrugged, not wanting to give away my position in the school hierarchy. Let them figure that out on their own. Not saying anything would intrigue them to look for themselves. I took a few steps down the narrow path that skirted the edge of the pond.

“Come on. Walk with me.”

They followed. Less snide. Still skeptical, but willing. We passed blackberry brambles and moss-slick stones. Swallows darted overhead. Remy kept turning to follow them with his eyes.

“Have any of you ever heard of a Steller’s jay?”

“No,” Camden said, flatly. It was the first word he’d spoken, but it was a word.

“They are the flashier cousin of the blue jay. Loud as hell. Aggressive. Smart. Territorial. And they always come back to the same place to nest. Even angry ones want roots.”

“Are you calling us birds,” Camden asked.

“You tell me.”

He mumbled under his breath, but I saw the way he glanced at the treetops like maybe, just maybe, he wanted to spot one.

As we rounded the bend, a few mallards took off across the water with a series of sharp splashes.

Mackenzie startled with the sudden noise, and I took note.

I already knew she’d been abused, but now I understood there was a practical reason for her headphones.

Noises genuinely bothered her. She looked like she might bolt, but Camden placed his hand on her shoulder, and she nodded that she was okay. Interesting, very interesting.

I kept going like I hadn’t noticed.

“Mallards have strong pair bonds, too,” I said gently, catching her eye. “But they can also survive solo. Mallards are surprisingly resilient and live in some of the harshest climates.”