Page 12 of Disciplinary Action
Cal yawned and stretched his arms overhead, his fist gently connecting with Bastian’s shoulder before falling to the armrest. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against his balled up uniform jacket, which served as his makeshift pillow. Echoes of laughter and footsteps filled the auditorium along with the smell of overly expensive aftershave and hastily applied shoe polish. He did his best to ignore all of it. None of these people were his friends anymore.
Bastian was his only friend and even that sometimes seemed fleeting. As Roosevelt Prep’s only scholarship kid, Bastian had fought hard to fit in, and Cal figured it was only a matter of time before Bastian decided he didn’t also want to be Cal’s only ally if it made Bastian public enemy number two. He tried to pretend that it wouldn’t matter when Bastian finally ditched him, but the truth was, Bastian and his mother were the only people keeping Cal from being totally homeless. If it wasn’t for the sleeping bag on Bastian’s bedroom floor, he would be in big trouble.
“Boys! Put your feet down and sit up straight. This isn’t your bedroom,” Mr. Pierce snapped, kicking Cal’s chair. Cal and Bastian both grimaced at the eleventh grade Latin teacher before dropping their feet to the ground, sitting up a bit straighter.
“Oh, cut him some slack, Mr. Pierce. It’s probably hard to sleep when you live in a cardboard box behind Del Taco,” Micah St. Clair quipped from two rows ahead, craning his head back until Cal could see his perfect unblemished profile and part of his floppy blond hair.
Pierce rolled his eyes and kept walking, but the boy’s weren’t done. Before Cal could open his mouth to retort, Matteo Cruz chimed in, “Now, that’s not true, St. Clair. You know he’s slipping little Bastian that good dick in exchange for sharing that roach infested apartment. But I guess when your parents breed like Mormons, what’s one more mouth to feed? Right, Abercrombie?”
The surrounding students erupted with laughter. Bastian flipped off Cruz who smirked and returned the gesture, but Cal wasn’t willing to let it lie. “Oh, don’t be salty, Cruz. I know you’ve just been dying for a real taste of this good dick since you saw me naked in the locker room after lacrosse practice last year. It’s okay. You can be honest. We’re all friends here.”
Some students snickered, some sucked in a breath, but most of them just stared at Matteo like they wondered if the lacrosse team captain would allow Cal to say something like that. Of course he wouldn’t.
“Salty? How about you lick my salty nuts, Whyte?” he said, his laugh tinged with a tiny bit of panic. “Hey, you think your dad’s taking it in the ass in prison? Kind of ironic that he hated you for being gay, but now, he’s the one who’s afraid to drop the soap. Life’s funny that way, huh?”
Cal went perfectly still at Matteo’s words, his entire body flushing with heat as the sound of rushing blood filled his ears. He clenched his fists, but neither boy paid him any attention, instead high-fiving each other as though they’d somehow won this battle of wits.
Cal launched himself over the empty row of seats, snagging Matteo by the tie and dragging him backward over the seat, getting the boy in a headlock. Chaos erupted as students stood, some yelling, some cheering, and all of them reaching for their cell phones. Bastian jumped into the fray, but Cal lost him in the crush of bodies. He got at least one good hit to Matteo’s face before the loser sucker punched him in the nuts.
Everybody froze as a shrill voice pierced through the roar of the students. “What is going on here?” Evelyn Abernathy shrieked. “Stop that. Stop that this instant. Sit down, all of you. Phones off. Is this how you want to introduce yourselves to your interim headmaster? You’re embarrassing the school.”
Matteo shook himself free of Cal’s grip. “Cal started it, like usual, Mrs. Abernathy. Him and that street urchin they let in.”
“I don’t care who started it,” she said, glaring at Cal as if he’d wronged her whole family. “You will all sit down and give the man the attention and respect he deserves or I’ll talk to Coach Keller about benching both of you.” She pointed a finger at Cal. “And you, young man, you’ll be going to see the new headmaster right after assembly. I’ll make sure he knows what a troublemaker you are.”
Matteo pushed himself off Cal. “Keep your hands off me, fag.”
“How original,” Bastian quipped.
Cal snorted. “That’s not what you said after homecoming. You begged me to finish you off after Alyssa Holland left you high and dry for—who was it? Oh, that’s right. Micah.”
“Fuck you, bitch. That never happened,” Matteo fired back.
Micah’s brows went up, and Bastian cackled. “Whatever you say, Cruz. But I’m pretty sure that was you and Cal I saw fogging up the glass of your Maserati.”
“Enough of this filth or I will have all of you in detention until graduation. You’re all degenerates. I expected better from you two,” Mrs. Abernathy fired at Matteo and Micah.
Oh, but not Cal and Bastian. They were just trash. Bastian was there to fill a quota, and Cal was there because they hadn’t found a way to kick him out…yet. But maybe he’d just ruined that. This new headmaster was likely a plant from the board, sent to toss Cal out on his ass in retaliation for his father’s crimes. The notion sat heavy in Cal’s belly like a lead weight. He couldn’t afford to get kicked out. Not now. He had a full-ride waiting for him if he could just hold on until graduation in six weeks.
But it was getting harder and harder to ignore the taunts and abuse. The money he’d earned from that night with Gideon had barely covered half of his monthly insulin dose and having to ration his medication made him feel sick and edgy. His highs were getting higher and his lows were causing crashes that grew scarier every time they happened.
The sound of feedback through the overhead speakers had the auditorium falling silent, all eyes swinging to the podium on the stage at the front. A spotlight clicked on from the sound room directly behind Cal and Bastian, and the man behind the podium held his hand up as he went temporarily blind from the unexpected beam of light.
Cal took in the man’s broad shoulders and well-cut gray blazer, the slightest tickle of something—foreboding… Anticipation, maybe?—sparking a memory that seemed destined to stay just out of reach…until the moment the man dropped his hand and Cal got his first look at their new interim headmaster. Except, it wasn’t his first look at all. Cal was familiar with their new headmaster.
Intimately familiar.
Bastian began slapping the back of his hand against Cal’s chest, his gaze glued to the man on the stage. “Holy fucking shit, dude. Is that…”
“Yeah,” Cal said, breathless. “Yeah, it totally is.”
“May I have your attention please?” Gideon asked as if every single person in that auditorium wasn’t staring at him like he was the only man alive. “My name is Dr. Leopold Gideon, and for the next six weeks, I’ll be here to oversee the day-to-day tasks of Roosevelt Prep while Mr. Leighton recoups from his surgery. Your headmaster has assured me that you are all fine young men and that I won’t have the least bit of trouble with any of you while I’m here.” There was a tittering of nervous laughter. Gideon smiled, revealing those perfect, perfect teeth. “If you have any questions or concerns, I have an open door policy. Feel free to stop by the office and let Mrs. Abernathy know you wish to speak to me. I’ll make the time. That’s all for now. All of you get to class.”
People were up and moving from their seats before Gideon even finished his sentence. All but Bastian and Cal who stayed where they were, hidden in the shadowy corner in the very back row.
Cal didn’t speak, just swallowed hard, his heart slamming against his ribcage until he was dizzy. Gideon, his Gideon—Daddy—was right there, would be right there for the next six weeks. Cal shivered. He’d thought of little else since their night together and still had yellowish-purple bruises on his ass from Gideon’s punishment. He pressed his hand against them when he jerked off, thinking about it in the shower, thinking about how he’d been Daddy’s good boy. But the ache from Gideon’s cock had disappeared after a couple days, and Cal had missed it—he’d missed the spike of arousal that had shot through him each time he sat down or pressed his own fingers inside himself just to try to pretend Gideon was still behind him, inside him, invading every part of him.
Cal didn’t know how to explain it, but it was like Gideon had…infected him somehow, awakened some dormant virus inside him that was overwhelming his system. No, not a virus, a drug. He’d shot him up with a drug so potent Cal couldn’t imagine anything else giving him the same rush Gideon had. He’d used him, hurt him, punished and fucked him without mercy, and, God help him, Cal needed more. His cock was half hard and pressing against his zipper just thinking about it. It had to be a sign, right? Some sort of cosmic green light telling Cal that Gideon was meant to be his.
