Page 31 of Volatile King (The Kings of Wayward Academy #6)

Angel scoffed, crossing his arms. “Okay, Professor Know-it-all, but I’m still not understanding what this has to do with us?”

I stopped and turned.

“Angel…do you really think you’re the only one who has felt like you don’t belong?

Like you’re wired wrong? Like school, people, and life just..

.don’t work for you?” He didn’t answer. “Any of you? Do you really think you’re alone in what you’ve suffered?

Just look among yourselves. Eight of you are in here, and that’s just who you know.

Who is suffering in silence? Or putting on such a good show of being perfect that you don’t know anything real about them?

How many students before you or who come after you will also struggle?

” I placed my hand on my chest. “I struggled, but I’m still here. ”

I didn’t call anyone out, but my gaze lingered on Camden. He was the quiet leader whom everyone else followed. If he chose to be different, the rest would as well.

“I used to come here when I was struggling. I thought that I needed to disappear to survive. Turns out, I just needed space to breathe. When I stopped trying to fake being okay, I started paying attention to shit that actually mattered. Even if it was just for five seconds, I began to claw my way back. One day, I woke up and realized that I might never be perfect, but I would always be okay if I chose to be real with myself.”

Remy asked, “So, are we supposed to come here every time we feel like crap?”

“You could,” I said. “Or you could remember that survival doesn’t have to look like silence. Or fighting. Or failure. It can look like staying. Watching. Learning something from a bird that gives zero shits about your reputation.”

Camden looked out over the water, jaw working. “You say that like it’s easy.”

I shook my head. “No. I say it like it’s worth it.”

A long moment passed. The sun filtered through the clouds, turning the pond golden, while the wind in the trees carried the scent of late fall in the air.

Sawyer muttered, “Alright. This is weirdly not the worst thing I’ve done in days.”

“High praise,” I said, joking with her. Sawyer smirked and blushed.

Ezra looked at her. “You’re gonna write a poem about this, aren’t you?”

“Already drafting it in my head,” Sawyer shot back.

We wandered back the way we’d come, and I grabbed my bag. They were slowly opening up. It was a massive wall to overcome, but one brick at a time was a good start.

Chatter filled the air as we returned to the main campus, but they weren’t mocking and condescending. The anger had toned down to the point you hardly noticed it. They were just filling the space, being teens, sharing like friends.

“That’s it for today. You’re all free to go,” I said. Before she walked through the front doors, Mackenzie stopped and looked at me. The corner of her mouth curled up as she lifted her hand in a small wave, before disappearing inside.

Camden lingered behind again. I looked at him, and he looked at me, but neither of us spoke. I didn’t push him or ask if he was okay—the most dreaded question in the book. If he wanted to talk, this was a safe space.

“You said birds don’t lie about their moods,” he said quietly.

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s true.”

He looked at me, really looked this time.

“What if you can’t tell what mood you’re in?”

I didn’t answer right away. I just quietly met his gaze.

“Then, maybe…you stop trying to label it and just let yourself be in it. If you need to hit something, find a punching bag in the gym. If you need to cry, do it. If you want to scream, or laugh, or…need to talk to someone, then give yourself permission. It’s okay.”

He didn’t speak. But he didn’t tell me it was stupid. Nodding, Camden walked inside.

And that, for today, was enough.

I hadn’t felt like this in so long. I’d never had something outside of my friends that was solely mine, and maybe, just maybe, I could be great at it.

Stuffing my hand in my pocket, I hitched the bag up onto my shoulder and headed for the parking lot.

Mr. Sharpe was coming up the path, and he smiled as I got closer.

“Blake, what perfect timing. How’s Ren doing?”

“She’s healing, but we have no timeline for her return to school. Why? Are you still hoping that she can be a TA this year? I can’t speak for Ren, but I don’t think that will be possible.”

Ren would hate that I just said that, but the reality was that she needed to get better. Catching up on her work and dealing with the shit load of emotional drama that was headed her way was top priority. Adding TA to the list seemed like way too much for anyone.

“That is very good news. I’m so glad that Ren is doing better. I’ve been worried. I was hoping she’d still be able to TA, but I understand. It’s a shame. She was doing a phenomenal job. Thanks for letting me know, Blake,” he said and started to walk away.

“Mr. Sharpe.” He turned to look at me. “Let me do it.”

“What?”

“I’m tutoring now. That’s where I came from. I’m great at organizing. Let me try.”

He crossed his arms. “I don’t know…”

“I won’t let you down. I promise.”

“Okay, why not. We have AP foreign language on Monday, which I know you’re a rock star in, let’s start there.”

“Great. See you then,” I said, smiling, and walked away. As soon as my back was turned, my smile fell. I didn’t like anyone asking after Ren. If Nash had taught me one thing, it was to keep your friends close, and anyone you don’t fucking know…closer.