The bell rang, signalling lunch break. Roy didn’t even make it out of his seat before a voice cut through the classroom.
“Roy Shyam. Teacher wants you.”
He looked up to see one of the prefects standing at the doorway, holding a slip with his na scribbled on it. Roy blinked slowly.
“…Who and why?”
“Mr Halden. Said it’s urgent.”
Roy stood, hands in pockets, and trudged through the corridor like a man going to war. He reached the teacher’s office and knocked.
“Enter.”
He stepped in.
Behind the desk sat Mr Halden, a tired-looking man in his late thirties with a loose tie and the aura of soone who had given up on both caffeine and joy.
He gestured for Roy to sit. Roy did, reluctantly.
Mr Halden exhaled, tapping a docunt on his desk.
“Roy… I need a favour.”
Roy stared. “What might that be, sir?”
The teacher pinched his eyes shut. “Just. Hear out.”
Silence.
Mr Halden continued. “You know the boy who sat next to you in form ti, right? Nathan Vale.”
Roy’s eyebrow rose slightly. “…Oh yeah, the kid who shows up like twice a month?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.” The teacher leaned forward. “He’s been skipping school for weeks now, and local authorities are now getting involved. They’re threatening juvenile detention.”
“…For truancy?” Roy asked flatly. “A tad bit dramatic.”
“The parents got notified,” Mr Halden continued, rubbing his temples. “School told them they’d be fined £2500 if their son didn’t return. You know what they said?”
Roy tilted his head.
“We are fully willing to cooperate with the school. However, our son simply refuses to go.”
Roy blinked once.
Mr Halden sighed. “During the rare tis that boy did show up, he never spoke to anyone. Never participated in class or extracurricular activities. Never socialised. But… according to other teachers…” He looked Roy dead in the eye. “You’re the only one he’s ever spoken to normally, like casual talk during class. Nothing deep. But… it’s sothing.”
Roy stared at him like he’d just been accused of a cri.
“Sorry, Sir, I’m not his friend,” Roy said slowly.
“I know.”
“I don’t care if he drops out.”
“I am aware.”
“I’m not the type to help others.”
“I understand.”
“Then why”, Roy said sharply, “do you think I would go out of my way to fix so person who clearly doesn’t want to be fixed?”
Mr Halden was silent for a mont.
Then he said calmly…
“Because if you do it… I’ll sign off your predicted grade as an A for university submissions.”
Roy wanted to go to university, as he had nothing else planned for the future, and he really doesn’t know what or who he should beco, so he wanted more ti to decide.
That is why university is a good prospect for him.
Mr Halden was Roy’s business teacher.
…
Roy stared quietly.
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Then he leaned back in his chair.
“…Address?”
Roy left Mr Halden’s office with the piece of paper in hand. He glanced at the scribbled address, pulled out his phone, and typed it in.
The map pinged.
“…Convenient,” he muttered. At least the universe wasn’t making him work too hard for that Grade A.
He slipped his phone back into his pocket and made his way down the hallway. As he approached the school entrance, he spotted Kieran in the distance, laughing with a couple of classmates.
Roy didn’t call out.
He didn’t want to pull him away from the group just so he could have Kieran, soone to talk to.
Kieran looked up mid-conversation, spotted him, and instantly waved off his friends like they didn’t exist.
“Oi, wait up,” he called, jogging slightly to catch up.
Roy didn’t slow, but his pace naturally aligned when Kieran fell in next to him.
“Are you going out anywhere today?” Kieran asked casually. As he was bored and wanted to see if Roy had anything to do.
“A guy called Nathan; his house,” Roy replied. “Teacher wants to drag him back to school or whatever. Said I’m the only one he’s ever talked to.”
Kieran blinked. “…Who the hell is Nathan?”
“A guy who sits next to in form. Shows up like twice a month. Apparently any more absence and the governnt throws him in a jail.”
Kieran whistled. “Sounds a bit too dramatic, doesn’t it?”
“It is.”
A pause.
“Want to hang out after?” Roy asked, as if it were an afterthought.
Kieran shrugged. “Got nothing to do. I’ll co with you now.”
Roy paused for a second.
“…Are you sure? He might get weird if I bring soone else.”
“Do I look like I care?”
Roy considered it.
“…Fair.”
And so they walked.
The weather was llow. The streets lined with little flower shops gave the air a sweet scent of lavender and wet stone. The breeze was quiet. Peaceful.
Roy didn’t say it out loud.
But it was nice.
They reached the address, a two-storey red-brick house with an overgrown garden. Roy rang the doorbell.
After a mont, the door creaked open.
A tired-looking woman in her late 30s blinked at them.
“Yes?”
“Good afternoon,” Roy said. “I’m Roy. This is Kieran. I was asked by the school to speak to Nathan.”
The woman’s expression shifted from weary to… surprised.
“Oh! You’re Roy?”
Roy blinked.
“…Yeah?”
She nodded rapidly. “He’s ntioned you before. Said you’re not annoying. That’s a rare complint from him.”
Kieran snorted.
Roy ignored him.
“Can I speak to him?”
She sighed. “He’s not ho. He’s probably at the Stag’s Head Pub. Works part-ti there.”
Roy exhaled slowly. “…Of course he does. Thank you for your ti.”
He turned and started walking.
Kieran followed.
Neither of them needed to ask where that was.
It was their pub.
Roy and Kieran walked the familiar streets toward The Stag’s Head Pub, hands in pockets, not really talking but sharing the silence comfortably.
They pushed open the pub doors, and the familiar musk of beer, wood polish, and fried food hit imdiately.
The bartender, a bearded man who'd seen them enough tis to nod without question, looked up.
Roy stepped forward. “Nathan Vale. Is he here?”
The bartender jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Out back. Setting up tonight’s gig.”
Kieran raised an eyebrow. “Gig?”
The guy snorted. “Yeah. Live music every now and then. Brings in the drunk artsy types. Managent calls it a ‘unique selling point’.”
Roy blinked slowly. “…I’m putting that on my coursework and taking the A.”
The man shrugged. “Do it. I have a business degree. Works every ti.”
They headed toward the back door, pushing past tables and staff carrying crates of equipnt.
The mont they stepped outside…
BOOM
A wall of noise slamd into them, bass vibrating through their chests, lights flashing in sync with drums, and a crowd packed shoulder to shoulder in the enclosed back venue.
A full-blown concert.
People were jumping. Shouting. Screaming lyrics in unison.
On stage. A four-man band tearing it up like they were headlining a festival. Kieran leaned toward Roy, shouting over the music. “Where’s Nathan!?”
Roy squinted around, spotting a scrawny-looking kid crouched beside a speaker, plugging in cables.
“There,” Kieran pointed. "Is that him?"
Roy stared.
Then looked back at the stage.
At the lead singer, hair untad, eyes blazing, guitar slung low across his body. He shredded through a riff with brutal precision, voice raw and powerful as the crowd howled his lyrics right back at him.
The sa Nathan Vale who used to sit in form, hood up, barely breathing. Roy exhaled.
“That's Nathan.”
Kieran blinked. “…You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“He ditched school to beco Freddie rcury Junior?”
“Apparently.”
The singer on stage, Nathan Vale, kicked the mic stand back and roared into the audience.
They scread like he was a god.
Kieran stared, mouth slightly open. “…No wonder he doesn’t co to school.”
Roy didn’t answer. He just watched. Expression unreadable.
But sowhere deep inside…
He couldn’t help but think, ‘…Fair enough.’
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