Chapter Four

Tomás

Arcadia University butted up against the small town of Timber's Peak. I'd seen small towns in pictures whenever Nick and I had searched for places we wanted to live that weren't Chicago. Small towns were always so small. Population under ten thousand. Everyone knew each other. The houses looked well cared for and lawns manicured. The pictures always looked nice. Timber's Peak resembled what we'd seen in those pictures. People outside in the nice weather wearing mostly flannel. The men had a weathered look with thick beards and brows. The women were curvy, wearing boots and jeans. They all seemed to know each other and still not want to kill each other. A big sign crossed above the street from light pole to light pole announcing a Memorial Day Festival this weekend.

I shifted in my seat.

"We're almost there," Maddox said.

We drove through a private winding road flanked by more trees. It went on for miles until we reached a security gate. Two armed guards walked out of the small house. One stayed back, watching us through dark sunglasses, his hand near his weapon, wearing black tactical gear with no emblems, no logos, just black. His hair was cut short, his stance stiff. The other one approaching the car had his glasses on top of his head. He had thick, black hair, wore the exact same gear, but had a smile on his face.

"Mr. Brennan," he said in a cheery voice.

"Lowe," Mad Dog greeted back.

I stared at the other dude. The threatening dude. The prison description of the place held more weight now.

"Phone."

I snapped my attention back to Mad Dog. "Huh?"

"Your phone."

I pulled out my cell phone and handed it to him. He then gave it to Lowe who did something to it, then handed it back.

"Dr. Casera is in his office. Have a great day." The man tapped the top of the car, made a circling motion to someone I couldn't see on a ridge behind the small house, and the gate started to lift.

Mad Dog drove us inside.

"You liar. This is a prison," I whispered into the car as I looked at my phone. "No internet?"

"Everything here is hard wired."

"Like dialup?"

"Like dialup," he answered.

I didn't have an addiction to my phone, like most people, but not having it and needing it would suck.

Narrow winding paths led deeper into the surrounding trees. There were signs indicating Amber, Topher, and Ryker Residential Buildings to the left. Arcas, Artemis, and Typhus to the right. The administration building was up ahead about two hundred yards. The place was a maze.

I wanted to tell him to take me back. I didn't belong here. But I didn't belong anywhere. Here was better than nowhere. Shit, I had to calm down. I giggled. He glanced at me but didn't say anything. After three months with me, he should've known I wasn't right in the head. Which had me scratching the scar over my ear. My hair had grown in some, the curls hiding most of it. But I could still feel the raised skin against the pads of my fingers. A reminder of sorts.

"Dr. Casera will explain everything," Mad Dog said as if that settled it.

"Great," I mumbled.

Prison would've probably been a better option.

According to the pamphlet Mad Dog had given me, Arcadia University housed 123 students in their sprawling 27,000-acre campus which included trees and more trees. Arcadia University was proud of their history of safety, learning, and building character. That's not what it actually said, but that's what I saw. "It doesn't say anything about downed internet and armed guards."

Mad Dog sighed. "This is a special school."

"Yeah, that doesn't make me feel any better." I shoved my hands into the pocket of my hoodie as Mad Dog parked in an empty spot. "Why is it empty?"

"It's not. We just came in through a different entrance. This part of the area is restricted to new students."

"So we don't see the real students."

He parked the car in an empty slot. I knew he wanted to tell me something by the way he was looking at me. Apparently, he decided it not worth it and got out of the car. I followed him.

Like a dog, I'd been following him, hating myself more and more. We entered a nondescript brick building. The walls were fancy dark wood with pictures of old important looking white people. The big furniture inside the place looked expensive. Mom had taken me to the museum once and I remembered they had furniture like this in one of their sections. Too fancy to touch. She'd left me there to meet up with one of her marks and I'd fallen asleep under a King Louis section and got picked up by security. They had fed me a sandwich and juice. It'd been nice until Mom showed up. She had beat me black and blue that night and stuck me in the closet. I'd been seven. Daniel suggested next time I don't get caught. But at least I got beat on a full stomach.

A tall older man with salt and pepper hair met us inside. He turned to Mad Dog and I swear, his blue eyes sparkled. Sparkled as if they were made of glitter.

"Mr. Brennan," he said, shaking Mad Dog's hand. "It's good to see you."

Mad Dog nodded. "Carl," he said tightly. Then he turned to me. "Tomás," he said. "This is Dr. Carl Casera, he's the headmaster."

I gave a little bow and felt like an idiot afterward. Dr. Casera's smile was infectious. Meaning, it made me want to smile too. See, Mad Dog had me listening to books and NPR during my recovery and I was learning big words too.

"Tomás, good to finally meet you. Mr. Brennan has told me a lot about you."

I stiffened and turned to Mads who had taken that very moment to ignore me. "Lies, I'm sure," I said, faking my voice to sound as snooty as Dr. Casera's. Daniel always said if I didn't know what I was doing, just fake it. Mad Dog glared at me. I decided to drop the accent.

Dr. Casera led us to an office that looked as unused as the salt and pepper shakers on my kitchen counter. We used them as paperweights sometimes. Maddox and I took the seats across from his desk as he sat down and clasped his hands on top of the clean wood surface. His eyes trained on me. "First and foremost," he started. "you will always be safe within the campus grounds."

I looked at Mad Dog who didn't look at me. I turned back to Dr. Casera. "Why wouldn't I not be safe outside the grounds?"

Mad Dog leaned forward. "Dr. Casera, Tomás is a special case."

As in I'm an idiot and have no clue what was going on.

Mad Dog went on. "He's transitioned late as I have just acquired him."

I felt like a piece of furniture, and not the nice pieces in the lobby of this place.

Dr. Casera's eyes did that sparkling, awareness thing again. "Ah, yes, I understand." Then he looked at me. "Well, young man," he said. "Arcadia is quite a special school."

I didn't think Casera knew that in my world a "special school" wasn't a good thing.

I learned that Arcadia housed 123 students from all walks of the life. All the students at Arcadia had blood ties to families who preferred discretion. I got that to mean that they were criminals like the Brennans. Mafia types. Which did not make me feel better. The campus, however, was secure with strict guidelines and confidentiality was taken seriously.

He handed me my school ID with the name Tomás R. "Within the school," he said, "You will be known as Tomás R. All your records will reflect this alias to keep you safe. It is encouraged that students do not share their real identities for safety reasons as you can imagine, I'm sure."

Rival families wanting to kill each other, though the administration couldn't do jack if a student decided to share.

Got it.

He handed me a round chip. Made of light smooth wood and the size of a quarter. "This is your token. It will designate your status to anyone outside the school if you were to fall into problems of a legal matter." He nodded at me as if I knew exactly what he meant. I didn't, but I didn't want to feel like an idiot, so I kept my mouth shut. "Most students put it on a key chain or leather strap around their neck. You should always, always carry it with you. Understand?"

I nodded and played with the round disk. It had a clasp like a locket. I opened it to expose a silver coin with an engraving of a raven encased in an uppercase B. I turned to Mad Dog who was staring at me. "That's the Brennan sigil. Keep it on you and hidden."

I snapped it closed and shoved it into my hoodie pocket. Dr. Casera went on. "The school does not have wireless access. Every connection is hardwired. You have been given a tablet and laptop. Every building has more than enough ports to allow you access for your study needs. There is no access to social media platforms of any kind. We have a closed, secure network that is monitored. We have the highest security protocols in place. Again, to ensure the safety of our students."

I shifted in my seat. This was a prison. "Are we able to go off campus?"

The smile of his remained. "There may be field trips, teacher sponsored events, and special accommodations for a release, but that would need to be approved by your sponsor. Everything you need—convenience stores, clothing stores, restaurants, are all within campus." He looked at Mad Dog.

It took me a moment to absorb what he was saying. Mad Dog held the keys to my prison. I shot to my feet. "No way."

Dr. Casera seemed to have expected this, giving me time to process, but a prison warden was a prison warden. "If freedom outside these campus walls is what you need, we can make arrangements. This is not a prison."

"Bullshit. This is a prison." I glared at Mad Dog who didn't even move.

What are your options? that fucker's body language said. No skin off his back. I'd die here or out there. Pick one.

I walked to the back of the room, running through shit in my head. I could try Nick. He'd probably let me hang out with him. I could try Aunt Tita. She was my mom's oldest sister. She would take me in. I had uncles too. I could go back to family. Any one of them would take me in.

But then what? What if moms wanted me back? She always knew which buttons to push to get me back. The thought had me vibrating.

A chair scraped the floor behind me, and I turned to see Maddox climb to his feet. Not Mad Dog as I knew him but the killer, Maddox Brennan. He remained on his feet, leaning against the arm of his chair, just watching me play this shit out in my head.

I paced for a few seconds and then stopped at the window, looking out over the green grass and trees. I felt trapped. An animal in a cage. A fancy cage, but a cage. I'd been in this position before. A feeling of hopelessness poured over me, and I planted my forehead on the cool windowpane. The glass in front of me misted as I exhaled, and I drew a happy face. I used to draw them all over Daniel's car windows so when he'd be making out with a girl and the car windows misted, he'd see all of them. He used to get pissed and chase me around the trailer for it. Shit, it hurt not having him anymore. It was like a part of me had died too.

Maddox Brennan had killed him and then bought me. Despite him not wanting sexual favors, he still controlled me. He'd wanted me here and here I was. Everything paid for—housing, food, books, tutoring—by him. I had nothing he didn't give me. I'd sold my soul to the man who killed my family.

And it stung.

Dr. Casera and Mad Dog remained silent behind me, letting me process my shit.

"What would you have done if I killed your brothers?" I asked into the window. I didn't care that Casera was in the office. Dealing with the mafia, cartel, whatever, he probably knew everything about everybody.

"I would've killed you," he said. "Slowly."

My eyes burned and I shut them. I didn't want to see my own reflection anymore.

"But you're not me," he added.

No, I wasn't Maddox Brennan. He liked drinking some expensive bourbon shit with oranges. I'd snuck and tasted some and it was nasty as shit. No, thank you. I was a beer guy. I knew he worried about his brothers, not so much about his father. That seemed strange. I knew his mother wasn't in the picture, though I didn't know why, and figured he'd be tight with his dad. But nope. I also knew his tells—when he was angry, when he was thinking, when he wanted to crack a joke. I'd learned early on in life to measure a person so that I could read them. We'd fought, laughed, and watched The Flash together. He preferred DC. I preferred Marvel.

I knew he cooked good, learned from his nana. My mom's food choice had always been beans and eggs. At least until the eggs got expensive. After that it was beans and cheese. Daniel and I learned to pick the green shit out of the cheese when it started to grow. Mom said to make sure we ate at school because we didn't have much at the house.

Daniel would often eat at his girlfriend's house, and he'd bring me some leftovers—chicken and rice—if I were lucky. But like Dad, he couldn't keep the good girls for long because he couldn't keep his dick in his pants. Brenda, one of his GFs, had been good for us. She had two jobs and went to college. She'd bring us food sometimes and lock herself with Daniel in his room before sneaking out. I didn't even mind sleeping on the sofa those days because it meant eating. She said her mom would kill her if she found out she was Daniel's GF. She took a chance, and he messed it up.

I saw her at his funeral the day we buried him. She didn't stand next to Mom or the rest of the family, but she did give me a sad look as if she knew what Mom did to me. As if she knew what was coming for me. She gave me a piece of paper with a phone number on it. I had called it the morning I meant to die. I don't know why I called. Maybe because I wanted to know if someone would remember me after I died. Maybe to hear someone's voice.

Anyways, when I dialed the number Brenda had given me to tell her not to forget me, it'd been the number to the abuse hotline. I hung up and threw the paper away.

"Did you do it? Did you kill them?"

In my heart I wanted him to tell me he hadn't killed them. That he hadn't put a bullet in my dad's head and then watched him burn. That he hadn't done the same to Miguel, Cruz, Daniel. That it hadn't been him. As if just ordering the kill would somehow make me less of a sellout for wanting his protection, for accepting his help.

"Yes," he answered. "I killed them."

I turned to look at him. He wore no expression on his face, and I envied how he could just turn off the world. "Why?" He still never explained shit to me.

He shook his head. "Not doing this with you again, Tomás."

"One day, I'm going to kill you." The words just easily spilled out of my mouth with no emotion behind it. As if it were the truest words I'd ever spoken. "I will make it my mission in life to end you. Just you. I won't even try to hurt you by killing those you love the way you did me."

That got a rise out of him. I saw the tension in his shoulders, the muscle twitch in his eye. The thin line of his lips as if he were grinding his teeth. "It won't bring them back."

"No, but it'll make me feel better."

"No, it won't."

No, it won't.

We stared at each other as if in some game of don't blink first. He probably regretted letting me live. He probably wanted to shoot me dead here, but it'd ruin his perfect school. Blood and a dead body in a room wouldn't be good for business considering this place was supposed to be safe. A neutral zone. The stare down lasted until Dr. Casera cleared his throat, reminding us of the odd man in the room.

"Perhaps, you'd like to see your accommodations," Dr. Casera said.

I gave him a stiff nod because I couldn't speak anymore.

Using a golf cart, Dr. Casera took Mad Dog and me to a colonial style house wrapped in the woods. He opened the door and led us inside. The place was huge. A fireplace, a grand staircase led to an upper level, and furnished with the same type of big, expensive furniture as the other building. But it was empty. "Why is it empty?"

"The rest of the students are already on summer break. You will be sharing the house with five other boys—Fox, River, Wren, Henry, and Kieran. Your room is number 6 on the second floor. Your ID will open the front door, but the individual room doors have keys. Your schedule and school materials are on your desk. Your phone is programmed with the phone number of the faculty. Mx. Burns will be your immediate contact for the summer but if you have any questions, feel free to contact me."

"My number is on there as well," Mad Dog said.

"I need my bag."

"I'll get it from the car."

With that, he turned around and left with Dr. Casera following him. Leaving me alone in the house. I climbed the stairs and found number five and six in the same hallway. The place was huge. My room was decent. A small twin size bed. A desk. A closet and my own bathroom. Shit, the room was bigger than the trailer I lived in with my moms and Daniel. I shouldn't have been excited, but I did feel a thrill of something new in my future. Of even having a future. If Nick could see me now.

Mad Dog returned with my bag. He had to ring the bell and wait outside. I opened the door with my goofy ass smile. "I'm sorry, sir, but you got the wrong address," I said with a British accent and laughed. "I always wanted to say that. You like the accent?"

He smirked, his eyes warming up a little bit after the truth bomb I'd given him. I hadn't forgotten that I wanted to kill him and I'm sure neither did he, but right now that didn't seem to matter.

Mad Dog walked inside, and I closed the door behind him. He dropped the bag at my feet. "You'll get an allowance for clothes and anything you need."

"Wow, how much?"

"You're a Brennan now, Tomás."

That stung, but I shoved it away with a goofy smile and shrugged. "What does that mean?"

He sighed, his eyes softer. "Just try to behave. Remember what I told you. After you graduate, we'll figure shit out."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. We.

Fucker. Took all the air out of the sails of wanting to kill him.

We stood there, awkwardly, wondering how to say goodbye. "I want you to report in every so often."

I nodded.

"You're going to be okay, kid."

I wasn't sure if he was trying to convince me or him of that. As I watched him walk out, I hated that I wanted to sneak into Maddox's trunk and leave this place with him. I hated that I wanted him to teach me things, to take care of me, to keep me. I hated that I knew I could never really kill him. I didn't really want to kill him. Instead, I imagined being his soldier, his bodyguard. I'd take a bullet for him if he just promised not to abandon me.

I hated myself for feeling that way too.