"Hey, Uncle Brian?" I said.

                "What is it?" he said, shifting through cereal boxes in the cupboard in search of breakfast.

                "What do you know about Patrick Mallory?" I asked.

                "Hm? Not that much. He donates all over the town. Suck-up if you ask me. His wife donates a lot to the hospital I work at. I think they have two kids. Braxton students?" he said.

                I nodded. "I met him at school. He's looking into the break-ins around town."

                "Sticks his nose into everything." Brian grabbed a water bottle and began filling it up at the sink. "Don't cause trouble around him. Like I said, his wife donates to my work."

                "Oh, no, I wouldn't cause trouble around him!" I said. "I was just wondering because he seemed to be a big deal. He was just asking me about some kids I know from school."

                "Stay out of trouble," Brian said, checking the time. "I have to go."

                "Bye, Uncle Brian. Have a good day at work," I said.

                He mumbled something as he hurried out of the house. I finished getting ready and left as well, humming to myself as I drove towards the school.

                I wanted to ask Uncle Brian if he knew anything about Tyson's family, but it was probably pointless. If Tyson's parents didn't know Brian, I doubted Brian knew them.

                I got out of my car and went into the school, heading towards my locker. I was curious about how Tyson would act around me after yesterday. Clearly the twins knew about our relationship, and I was guessing nothing slipped past Farren's notice when it came to Tyson. Connor might be the only one who didn't know something was up, though I even doubted that.

                I opened my locker and began to dig through it for what I needed. Maybe I'd as Tyson if he wanted to get a drink after school. He'd paid for me that one time, so I really should return the favor. Besides, he seemed to be under a lot of stress lately, and hopefully a little break from all the work could help him relax.

                "On your knees, just where Tyson likes you."

                By the time I'd looked up at Farren, he was already wincing in pain and rubbing his ribs. Tyson stood next to him, looking as neat as always in his Braxton uniform.

                "What are you doing here?" I asked curiously, ignoring Farren's comment.

                "Saving your bully-magnet ass," Tyson said, nodding a little.

                I looked over and realized Drew was at the end of the hallway with his friends, watching me. Oh, shit, I hadn't even thought about the fact that he wanted to viciously murder me because my grades were better than his. What a way to go. Here lies Nolan Fletcher; an angry dude killed him for doing his homework.

                "Thanks," I said gratefully, standing up and shutting my locker.

                "Let's go. He's just staring and it's making me uncomfortable," Tyson said. He waved at Drew. "Hey, take a picture, Drew. It'll last longer and it'll look better than your shit grades."

                Some kids around the hall laughed a little as Drew glared at Tyson. Tyson gave his dazzling smile and shoved me down the hall, taking off at a casual pace with Farren.

                "So, what, am I part of your friend group now?" I asked as we rounded the corner into a different hallway.

                "I'm not tonguing the rest of my friends," Tyson said. "I'd probably check the dictionary and get back to me when you have a better word for it."

                "I haven't really spent time with you guys around school outside of the club," I said. "This is kind of weird, actually."

                "No, weird is when Tyson pokes his fake eye with a knife to scare people," Farren said. "This is fairly mundane."

                Tyson grinned a little. "Remember when Gianna bet me $30 I wouldn't do it?"

                "And then she screamed when you actually did," Farren said fondly. "You piece of shit."

                "You have a lot of fun with that eye, huh?" I said.

                "Why not? Plenty of people don't know it's a fake, so I might as well get my kicks while I can," he said.

                "Hey, what happened to the kid who shot it out?" I asked. "Does he go here?"

                Tyson shook his head. "My mom lost her shit on his parents and banned me from seeing any of those kids ever again. They all go to the public school. When we played with our BB guns at my house, my parents watched us like hawks so no one got hurt. When we played with them at his house, his parents let us outside alone."

                "I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of your mom's anger," I said. "She seems like she could be a pretty scary lady."

                "She can be. But she can also swallow down that anger and use it to fuel herself. She'll either scar you for life or show you up," Tyson said.

                "Gee, I wonder who you took after," Farren said.

                "Farren!"

                We looked over as a girl ran up to Farren. She gave him an eager look, playing nervously with a loose string on her skirt.

                "Do you have it?" she asked.

                Farren had that friendly smile on his face he'd had when I first met him. "I have it, Abby! You still want it?"

                "Yes, please," she said, pulling money out of her bag. "Here, I brought the money."

                "Great." Farren pulled a video game controller out of his bag. "Here you go. The battery life on it is amazing! I only used it a few times before I got rid of my console, so it's practically brand new."

                "Thanks for cutting me a deal," she said, swapping him the money for the controller.

                "Of course." His smile got wider. "We're classmates, and it's not like I have any use for that. Those controllers run for up to $60, so be careful not to break it in school. Keep it in your locker."

                "I will," Abby promised. "Thanks again, Farren. Hi, Tyson!"

                "Hey, Abby," Tyson greeted. "We're going to go. See you in class."

                She waved to them and hurried off. When she was gone, Farren's smile dropped and he rolled his eyes, leafing through the money.

                "$45!" he said, laughing to himself as he tucked it in his bag. "I bought that junk controller for $11 online."

                "One of these days someone will catch on," Tyson said as we started walking again.

                "I pick who I sell to," Farren said. "I'm a careful business man, you know that."

                "I think lying to make money is just called being a con artist, not a business man," I pointed out.

                "I don't lie, I exaggerate," Farren said. "One is untruthful, one is creative."

                "He would've targeted you if I hadn't stopped him. You're welcome," Tyson said.

                "Come on, Nolan definitely would've bought that old answer book for $25," Farren said. "I've sold them to new Braxton students for years. They sucker into it every time."

                "I've been protecting your helpless ass since you joined us," Tyson said. "You owe me."

                "Oh, right! Do you want to get a drink afterschool? I'll pay," I said.

                "If I'm free," Tyson said, checking his watch. "The bell is about to ring. See you at Social Action Club."

                "Bye, outcast," Farren said, following Tyson off down a separate hallway.

                I moved carefully through the hallways until I made it to my first period class, managing to avoid Drew and his friends. Hopefully I'd make it to the Social Action Club without him ambushing me at some point.

                I stayed alert and careful throughout the day, playing up the Invisible Boy as I went from class to class and avoided bullies during lunch. By the end of the day, I was starting to feel a little relieved.

                I felt even more relieved when I reached my locker and Tyson knocked his fist against it. He stepped aside so I could put my combination in.

                "Hurry it up. The president can't be late to his own meeting," he said.

                "I checked a dictionary," I said, tossing a few notebooks in my locker.

                "Oh?" he said.

                "There was this one word..." I thought for a moment. "What was it? Something with a b..."

                "Best friends?" he tried.

                "No, no." I shook my head. "That wasn't it. Boy-something."

                "Boycotting the corrupt government?" he said.

                "No, that wasn't it either. Boy...Boyfriend! That was the word," I said.

                He grabbed my tie and tugged me close. "I'm not familiar with that word. Give me a definition."

                "Should I use it in a sentence?" I offered.

                "I'm a visual learner," he said.

                He tugged on my tie again, pulling me until our lips were meeting. I gripped his blazer, kissing him like his lips could define happiness for me.

                "I can't be late," he mumbled against my mouth, kissing me again. "I'm throwing you under the bus if I am. They'll know you held me up."

                "I'll tell them about your lame 'I'm casting you out, outcast' joke," I said.

                He pulled away from my lips, narrowing his eyes at me. "I have a new word for you to look up: Single."

                I shut my locker and we started walking together. "I dated once, but it was only a few months."

                "I've never dated. I told you I'm not easily impressed," he said.

                He didn't hold my hand as we walked, but he did walk close enough that our shoulders kept brushing together. Something told me Tyson wasn't very traditional when it came to relationships, but I was figuring him out enough to know his own silent signs of affection.

                We entered the Social Action room together, everyone else already there. Tyson moved away from me to take his seat at the head of the desks.

                "Someone better get me a volunteer list for our cop project," Tyson said. "Someone also better get in touch with the local newspaper about it. And I better see advertising pushing it in everyone's faces."

                "I put notices up in the teachers' room," Bishopp said.

                "My dad has been doing a lot of advertising," Farren said.

                "I want advertising around the school," Tyson said. "I want it everywhere. I want this place to look like New York City at Christmas time. Advertisements everywhere you look. You close your eyes and they're burned into your mind."

                "Is this to get attention for the event, or to rub it in Malory's face that this is going on?" Talon said.

                "Pretend you're Hannah Montana and have the best of both worlds, Talon," Tyson said.

                "Stop it, I hate references," Farren said.

                "Weird, I feel like I know someone else who does," Tyson said thoughtfully.

                "Hey, hey, keep all the walls up and let's focus," Bishopp said. "Is there anything we need to do to get ready?"

                "I'll handle all the paperwork for the volunteers. Twins, get me a list of every position your dad needs filled by volunteers so I can start assigning workloads," Tyson said.

                "I'll get you a list of volunteers a few days before the event," Farren said.

                "I'll make you an online template to organize everything easier," Connor said. "Just give me a list of positions so I can format it."

                "What can I do to help?" I asked.

                "Nothing right now. The day of the event, you can be in charge of passing out safety gear and nametags to volunteers," Tyson said. "That'll save me the hassle of doing it so I can work with Mr. Zigor to get everything set up."

                "Dad's excited for the advertising," Talon said.

                "Dad also said he'll make sure no one pulls a Talon and gets a nail stuck in their foot," Nyssa said.

                Talon shot her a betrayed look. "You just had to bring that up."

                "You just had to step on a fucking nail," Nyssa said.

                Talon opened his mouth, but never got a chance to respond to that. Instead, a song suddenly burst into life from Farren's bag, scaring the words from Talon.

                "It's my dad," Farren said, getting up and unlocking his phone. He left the room, shutting the door behind him.

                "We should wait for him before we move on to other business," Nyssa said.

                "Speaking of other business, hacking Mr. Zigor's accounts was easy," Connor said. "I have everything we need on Alex's house. I can get you every possible escape route and the possible locations of Alex's room."

                "So much for waiting for Farren," Nyssa said with a sigh.

                "I was just saying," Connor said. "It won't take long to catch Farren up on that."

                "Will have the stuff pulled up when we break-in?" Tyson asked.

                "Yes. I also got the names of Alex's parents, so I'll look into that tonight to see if I can figure out their work schedules. It's always best if we can catch a house when a parent is at a nightshift," Connor said.

                "Just be careful not to leave a trace of your hacking," Bishopp said.

                Connor raised an eyebrow. "My dad is a cyber security expert. I know how to do this without getting caught, Bishopp."

                "You're a bit terrifying for a guy who owns a Chihuahua," I said.

                "He's a valid dog," Connor said defensively. "All dogs are good dogs but Jonesy is the best dog."

                The door swung open and Farren hurried in, closing it. "Tyson, we have a problem."

                "You know what I like hearing? 'Tyson, everything is running smoothly and according to plan'," Tyson said.

                "Mallory," Farren said.

                Tyson narrowed his eyes. "Mallory?"

                "My dad called to tell me that Mallory is hosting a big charity dinner for the local police and fire department. He's advertising to his rich friends and all proceeds get split between the two. He also got Tiffany's mom to write an article about it. He's already getting plenty of attention and being praised," Farren said.

                "That fucker," Tyson snarled, slamming his fist on his desk.

                He looked absolutely furious. His glass eye stood out clearly on his face, as it was the only part of him not burning with exposed rage.

                "Ty, it'll be okay," Bishopp said, voice calm and soothing. "We'll carry through with our plan and work even harder."

                "It doesn't matter how hard we work," Tyson snapped. "That damn coward will never let me upstage him. He'll always remind me I'm nothing. He'll always stomp on my accomplishments without ever showing his pathetic face to me."

                "We'll think of something," Nyssa promised.

                "And he'll think of something better. He's got the money and the connections to beat us every single time," Tyson said, raking a hand through his hair.

                "Calm down," Farren said. "He can't win forever. If he keeps it up, everyone will know he's just stealing our ideas."

                "He can steal whatever he wants," Tyson said, that fury coloring every word. "He can steal whatever the hell he wants and get away with it. He can threaten anyone who he sees as a problem and ignore everyone else. He'll lie his way to a good life and never think twice about who he stepped on to get to the top."

                "This meeting is over," Bishopp said, standing up. "Go home, Tyson. Go home to your parents. You need a night off."

                Nyssa urged her brother up and towards the door. "We'll text you later Tyson. Keep your head on your shoulders, please."

                Connor just pulled his dog out of his bag and glanced at Tyson before leaving the room. Bishopp lightly touched Tyson's shoulder before leaving the room.

                "Stop letting him control your life," Farren said.

                "Get out," Tyson said. "Get the fuck out, Farren. I don't need your speeches. Get. Out."

                "I'll call you later. And if you don't answer, I'll call your mom," Farren said. "Don't do anything stupid. You only have one good eye left."

                He shut the door as he left the room, leaving me alone with Tyson. Tyson was trembling with the force of his anger, his fists clenched tightly in his lap.

                "Dammit, dammit, dammit," he hissed, punching the desk again.

                "Tyson," I said, getting up and sitting across from him. I set my hand on the desk, there if he wanted it but not forcing the contact onto him. "Tell me what you need. Tell me how to help."

                I'd never asked Dylan how I could help, never asked him what he needed from me. And I'd lost him, far too soon and far too tragically. I wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

                Tyson laughed, but it was humorless. "You called me your boyfriend, but there's so much you don't know about me."

                "People open up at their own pace. I don't need to know your whole life to date you. I just need to know you as a person, and have a trusting bond," I said.

                "My mom had the same mentality and all it got her was me," Tyson said, shaking his head. He finally looked up at me, that rage screaming in his eyes. "Did you know I was born Tyson Lee Machek? That was my mother's name. Oh, yea, I'm a little bastard, a filthy child born to an unmarried mom. She didn't marry us into the Strazio name until I was about four."

                "A lot of parents have kids before they're married," I said.

                Tyson let out that humorless laugh again. "Did you know Vinny Strazio isn't my biological father?"

                My eyes widened as it clicked. "Mallory."

                "Tyson Lee Mallory doesn't have quite the same ring as Tyson Lee Strazio," Tyson said, his tone bitter. "Patrick Mallory, the man who gave his fling more than he intended to."

                "And he knows you're his, doesn't he?" I said quietly.

                "Of course he does. He knows he has three kids, not two. But he'll be damned if he lets anyone else know," Tyson said. He hit his desk again. "My mom was finishing up her master's degree two towns over when she met Mallory. He hit on her at a party they were at, and it went from there. He took her on nice dates, told her nice things, made her feel like the most special woman in the world. He charmed his way into her heart and her bed."

                He looked at my hand, still on the desk. But instead of taking it, he just dropped his gaze to his fist.

                "He told her they should keep their relationship quiet because they wanted their families to think they were fully focused on their careers, not a relationship. My mom told her best friend, Vinny. He lived a town over and they talked and met up a lot. But Mallory never met Vinny, no, he was always too busy for that. But never too busy to spend time with my mom. He bought her beautiful things and danced with her under the stars and told her how much he loved her. She gave him everything, and he gave her an unexpected pregnancy."

                Tyson was clenching and unclenching his fist, trying to ease his anger even the slightest bit.

                "My mom was scared, of course she was. She was young and unmarried and didn't know a damn thing about babies. But she was excited, too. She was going to start a family with the man of her dreams. She called Mallory and he came over. She told him, smile on her face, that she was pregnant with their child."

                A bitter grin on his face. Clench, unclench, clench, unclench.

                "You know what he told her? He told her to get an abortion. He told her he'd pay for it. She was shocked, started asking why. He had believable excuses at first. They were just starting their careers, they were young, they didn't have the time or money to raise a baby right now. My mom waved it all away and said they'd make it work. He kept arguing with her to abort her baby, and she stubbornly told him she wasn't going to do it. So he dropped his act and told her the truth."

                I stayed silent, waiting for him to tell me the rest. This was his story, and we'd go at his pace.

                "He was engaged." Tyson's words were dark and dry. "He'd been engaged the whole time, and his wedding was soon. He'd been planning to cut off ties with my mom. That's why he had them keep it quiet, and that's why he always took her out around her town, never his. She'd been his affair. My mom was heartbroken. And he rubbed salt in that goddamn wound right away. He warned her to get an abortion. He warned her if she didn't and tried to tell anyone he was the father, he'd ruin her life and her kid's life. He wasn't as rich and powerful back then, but he was rising quickly. He threatened her again and left her crying on the ground, and never contacted her again."

                He was quiet for a few moments, taking slow, steady breaths. He still hadn't looked back up at me.

                "She called Vinny and he came right over. She told him everything. The two looked into Mallory and realized that he could very well carry through with his threats. My mom didn't want to abort her baby, but she also didn't want Mallory to ruin that baby's life. Vinny promised to help her through everything, and he helped her call her parents to tell them everything. My mom ended up getting an apartment with Vinny so he could help her like he'd promised. When I was born, she didn't name a father. When I was growing up, I didn't know any better. I called Vinny dad, because he took care of me and did everything a dad did. My mom wanted me to know the truth, but she wanted to give it to me in small pieces so I wasn't overwhelmed. She taught me early on that Vinny was raising me, and I could call him dad. But he wasn't really my dad. She told me Vinny wasn't the one who put me in her tummy."

                Tyson gave another humorless laugh and ran a hand through his hair.

                "That's how she worded it back then. There were plenty of rumors back then about who my father was. They still linger from time to time, even now. A lot of people thought it was Vinny, but some thought my mom just had an affair and moved in with Vinny to hide it. She didn't tell me the truth until I was older. And she didn't tell me the whole, detailed story until a few years ago. Patrick Mallory has never contacted her since that day he threatened her. He got married and had two kids, his wife none the wiser. I have a brother and a sister and they don't even know about me."

                "They're younger," I said. "That's not why you came to Braxton."

                "My parents- well, my mom and Vinny, I mean- moved to this town after they got married. My mom got a great job offer here, and Vinny would have a way shorter commute to work. When my mom told me who my dad was, I looked him up. I wanted to know everything about him. I wanted to know who the man was that hurt my mom like that. And I found out he was a student here. He volunteered with local groups when he was a student, got good grades, and made a small name for himself. I wanted to haunt this man. I wanted him to know I was well aware of who he was and that I was a better man than he could ever hope to be. So I became a student, I got good grades, and I started a club dedicated to volunteer work. This is the best school in this town, so as much as he tries to keep his kids away from me, he sent them here anyways."

                "Have you ever...?" I said.

                He shook his head. "I've only seen them. My sister and I have the same nose." His grin was dark. "My brother and I have the same hair, the same jaw. Mallory has tried to knock down all my efforts. He won't let his bastard outshine him. I should've been aborted but instead I'm trampling over his path with better success. My mom wanted to tell what he'd done, but she was terrified he'd come after me if she even tried. So she kept quiet about my father and raised me with her husband. Vinny always considered me his son. He was with my mom through her whole pregnancy, and he raised me right from my birth. He's the only dad I've ever known, but that'll never change what Mallory put my mom through. He shattered her heart."

                He finally reached out and took my hand. Our fingers linked together and he thoughtlessly brushed his thumb along my knuckles.

                "When I was little, my mom told me she'd give me the best of the world. She'd protect me, even when I was too big for her to hold. She told me her arms wouldn't be strong enough to hold me, but they'd always be strong enough to protect me." He eyed our hands. "Mom said she'd soften all the edges for me so I would never get hurt. She said when she found out she was pregnant, she started making the apartment a safe place for me to grow, and she'd keep working to make the world a safe place for me to grow as I learned to venture out into it." He tightened his hold on my hand the slightest bit. "She said she'd make sure love never hurt me."

                "You're not Mallory," I said. "You're Tyson Strazio. Your mom and dad love you. I don't know what you're feeling with all this, Tyson, but I can promise you're not alone."

                "Mallory has watched my family's every move since he found out my mom was pregnant," Tyson said. "He'll never let us escape his influence. He'll make sure we take his dirty little secret to the grave. He has his perfect family and his perfect image. He doesn't need his fling and his bastard coming to ruin that."

                "You're more than what he did to you," I said. "Your mom is more than what he did to her."

                The rage had drained from him, and now he just looked exhausted. "I'll never get to know my little brother and little sister. I'll never know my biological father."

                "But you know your mom and dad," I said. "And in my opinion? You're pretty damn lucky right there."

                "I love my parents," he said. "I hate that dad takes me fishing all the time and mom threatens to kill me constantly, but I love them. But thanks to me, they can never breathe easy. Mallory will always be at their backs."

                "We're social menaces, right? So let's be social menaces. Let's take the fight to Mallory. Let's stomp out the bullying problem and Mallory," I said. "We'll come up with something, Tyson. I promise we will."

                "We're fucked up," he said, running his free hand through his hair.

                "Maybe," I agreed. "But I'm okay with that."

                He stood up, pulling me with him. "You said you'd buy me a drink."

                "Something with plenty of caffeine," I said.

                "I won't say no. Let's go, outcast," he said.

                "I thought I earned my name back?" I said.

                He pulled me towards the door. "Let me distance myself from my own past before I bother with your identity crisis."

                "Healthy coping mechanisms. We're the poster children for them," I said.

                He squeezed my hand. "I want my drink."

                I kissed his cheek. "Then start moving and I'll buy it for you."

                We left the Social Action room, the door clicking shut behind us, trapping Tyson's past inside. We'd trusted each other with our darkest truths and our deepest insecurities.

                But we'd also trusted each other to help fight those things. We'd fight the bullying. We'd fight Patrick Mallory. And as Tyson squeezed my hand again, I knew we'd fight those things side by side, until the bitter end.