“You’re too easy to play with, Mayo.”
“How can you be called Angel when ‘demon’ is so much more fitting?”
We all snickered, then leaned against the wall of the hallway, waiting for our cue. We had met with the principal of the school when we arrived and we were hustled to a staff-only hallway to avoid any kids seeing us and a riot ensuing. There was going to be a brief video some of the students had made for Mr Jones, then he’d make a speech and welcome us on stage. It was one of the more basic and least stressful appearances we had ever done, but the fact that it was for Mr Jones made it a big deal. That was probably what May was so worried about it in the first place. Like Hayes and I, he thought highly of Mr Jones. He probably thought he would mess up his retirement ceremony.
“Mr Jones is gonna be buzzing to see us,” I commented. “When was the last time we saw him? Five years ago?”
“Four,” May corrected. “He came to a gig we had in Manchester, we got him backstage passes. Angel was sick that night so he didn’t get a chance to meet him. Remember?”
“Not really.” I shifted. “I remember seeing him but nothing after that. I was likely out of it.”
That made me feel like a piece of dog shit. Angel bumped my shoulder with his, gaining my attention.
“You’ll remember this encounter with him and every other from now on,” he said. “Focus on that.”
Angel was a hard arse, but he cared about me and the rest of the guys like brothers. I appreciated him and Hayes and May. The three of them saved my life when they threw my arse into rehab. I was still alive because of them. I always reminded myself of that when I thought they intruded on my life a little too much. They, more than anyone, had the right to.
“Hey,” May said and he moved closer to the door. “Look, they’re playing that video the kids made for Mr Jones.”
The glass of the doors was covered with sheer coloured paper on the other side of the panel, but parts of it were ripped, enabling us to peek into the hall without drawing attention to ourselves. We were bunched together like a group of schoolgirls as we watched the video projected onto the back wall of the hall. I smiled as I watched the video but then I saw my younger self along with a younger Frankie. A memory I had long forgotten was playing in front of me and it stole my breath.
I sang to her and her smile, her eyes, everything about her was for me in that moment. I had forgotten how she looked at me like I was her entire world. I’d forgot how much I loved that about her, I’d forgot how much I loved it when she looked at me like that.
“I take it that’s the infamous Frankie?”
“Yeah, man,” I answered Angel. “That’s Frankie.”
“She’s cute.”
Gorgeous. She was gorgeous.
The video came to an end and silently we all straightened away from the door and adjusted our clothing. I expected the lads to rip into me over what we had just seen on the video, but none of them said a word. I couldn’t even look at them; I didn’t want them to notice that seeing the memories I had forgotten about made my chest ache. Since we returned to Southwold, I thought of Frankie more than I had in five years, but seeing her face as I remembered it on screen, smiling my way with love shining in her green eyes? That was almost more than I could cope with.
It worried me. When I couldn’t cope with something, I drank or used and now that I was sober I couldn’t do either of them. It meant I had to deal with how seeing Frankie’s face made me feel instead of simply blocking those emotions out. I tried to run through things my therapist told me to do when I found myself in a situation like this but, for the life of me, I couldn’t remember a single thing he had ever told me.
One thing was on my mind, one person . . . Frankie.
“You good?”
Hayes put the question to me and I nodded instinctively to cover up my lie.
“I’m good, man.”
Before any of the guys could say a word in response, Mr Jones’s voice boomed as he introduced us.
“Please, join me in welcoming past students and global superstars, Risk Keller, May Acton and Hayes Hurley. They’ve taken a break out of their busy schedule to come home to Southwold and attend this ceremony for my last year at Sir John Leman High School. They’ve brought along Angel Reyes, too! Our very own Southwold boys are home! Give it up for Blood Oath!”
“Let’s get it.”
The door to the hall opened and, holy shit, it was only a small crowd but they made themselves heard. Everyone was on their feet, waving their hands and screaming our names. One by one we filed our way up onto the stage. I had a huge smile on my face as I clasped hands with Mr Jones and gave him a hearty hug.
“Great to see you, sir.”
“And you, kid.” He clapped his hand on my shoulder. “You’re looking great, Risk.”
I reached up and touched my sobriety coin.
“I feel great, sir.”
I moved aside and snorted as Mr Jones ribbed Angel, offering to give him drumming lessons for free which made Angel beam happily as he shook the man’s hand. When I turned to the crowd and waved, the screaming became deafening. I made eye contact with as many of the schoolgirls as possible because they ate that shit up. I didn’t get it, but looking at them seemed to make their day and seeing
