This is the second part of a story about three brothers. Gus, Chris and Mark are settling in to their new arrangements. All of them are adjusting to new starts, Gus is struggling with starting college late while juggling the rest of his chaotic life, mark is learning his family's reputation proceeds him and is beginning to wonder at the truth of his mother leaving them, and so on. Feedback, especially that of the devastatingly honest, would be welcomed.

 

“Gus – good to see you.” The secretary bent down in an obviously low cut blouse to pick up a piece of paper from the floor, behind the Perspex door leading into the reception area of the principal’s office. Her dyed blond hair swept across her arm and mark could make out the wrinkles from her tanned and freckled chest. “Aw – gross” he muttered.  Gus snorted unexpectedly beside him. Mark’s eyes gleamed.
“What are you up to these days my man? It’s been a long while since I last saw you in here.”
Gus cleared his throat, “Hey mrs Simmons. Not much really.”
“Such a shame what happened to you boys . We thought – well, you know how hard it is to hide these things – we thought that mother of yours was still around, at least physically, if not mentally or soberly for that matter.” She let out a shrill cackle “If you know what I mean….”  She tailed off, suddenly unsure.
“Not really, “ Gus replied – cold.
“Anyway, I hope you are keeping those boys in line. And going to church. Church is very important, you know.”
“Really? I’ve never found it so.”
Mark sniggered as Mrs Simmons held the sheaf of papers to her chest, sniffed loudly and said, “I better be getting on. Mr Rudnyckyj will see you shortly.”
Gus swore under his breath.
“What?”
“Never you mind. You concentrate on behaving yourself in here.”
“Were you in here a lot?”
Mark asked curiously. His brother looked at him in distain. “I had the two of you to run after, as well as passing school myself – what do you think?”
Mark shrugged. “She wasn’t very nice.”
“No – you’ll find a lot of people are not so different from Mrs Simmons but it’s no excuse for giving into them. It’s old stuff Mark – old news.”
“Mr Reid – and Mark Bryant?”
They stood up as the principal called to them from his door.
“I don’t believe in standing on ceremony.” He said, smiling. “Now sit down.  George isn’t it – I’ve spoken to you before, about Chris.”
Gus nodded. “Yeah – Mark’s our youngest brother. He’s living with us now.”
“Uh huh.” The principle held the fingertips of each ebony hand together.  “So, tell me about yourself Mark.”
Mark shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t like principal’s offices, didn’t like the formality of sitting still while adults quizzed you about odd things. “I was, er, living in new york, well, really like in new york state, you know and now I’m …. here…” he ended lamely.
“What’s your favourite class Mark?”
Mark shrugged. The office was strangely sterile. The desk was completely empty apart from a laptop, computer mouse and old grey lamp. Perfectly straight pictures hung on the beige walls, pictures of teams, formal pictures of teachers, of Mr Rudnyckyj hugging a broad, curly blond haired football clad senior on the football field. “Er, I like art, I guess.” He said casting wildly for something to say. Gus pulled a hand through his hair in quiet exasperation.
“I see. Well, maybe we can inspire you.” He leaned forward in his black leather chair and leaned on the desk. “I would say one thing to you. Everyone starts here with a clean sheet. That doesn’t mean I’m not fully aware of how you came to be here. “ he paused. “I don’t tolerate drugs in my school. “

Gus cursed and parked on the grass outside the Arts building. Not a single space left in the car park and after that charade at the school, he was late. He leaned over and picked up his folder of notes and slid out of the truck, setting off at a run for the low concrete building, swiping his student card at the panel outside the door.
The class was seated in a semi circle facing the lecturer, a man only a couple of years older than him. They looked up when he opened the door, loudly, and dropped his folder. “Sorry” he said, leaning down to pick up his notes, his ears burning loudly.
“Class starts at ten Mr Reid.”
“Sorry – I got caught up. “
Dr Tyne raised his eyebrows. “Evidently.” Gus slipped embarrassed into an empty seat at the far end of the semi circle quickly taking out his half thumbed copy of The Beautiful and the Damned. He hoped the good doctor would lay off, he’d only read half, and most of that had been a bit short on understanding. “So, where were we? Thoughts on the protagonists?”
The girl three chairs to the left of him, swept back her blond hair and shot him a look. Gus squirmed, she was pretty, but really, she couldn’t be more than eighteen.
“So you enjoying this class huh?” The guy to his left, all long hair and crumpled shirt turned to him.
“Hmmm, I wouldn’t exactly go that far…”
The young man flashed him a quick smile. “Not your thing huh?”
“Not exactly – English never was my strong point.”
“Mine neither – especially when you have to sit around and listen to these kids talk about it all morning.”
Gus looked more closely at the speaker, noticing the unshaved chin and lines of tiredness around his eyes.
“Hi, I’m Art.” The speaker pushed out his hand.
Gus smiled and introduced himself. “So you a mature student too?”
“Something like that. Wanna get a coffee or something?”
Gus glanced at his watch.”My next class isn’t til 12 – sure.”

Chris looked across the lunchroom as his younger brother came in and stood, looking a little lost, by the food line. He sighed loudly. Looking after Mark was pretty low on his list of priorities right now. But he couldn’t just leave him to stand there looking sort of forlorn.
“Hang on – I’m going to say hey to Mark.”
Billy rolled his eyes. “What are you a babysitting service?”
“ Very funny.”
Chris wove between the tables up to the lunch queue. “Hey – how you doing?  Mark looked around startled. “Oh, I’m cool. You got any money?”
Chris groaned –“Didn’t Gus..? Nevermind - I’m clean out – come and share my lunch.”
Mark screwed up his face. “Thanks for the offer but –“
“And what are you going to do instead huh? Come over – you can practice being the cool new kid tomorrow.”
Chris steered his younger brother back to his table, their progress slowed by the number of people stopping to greet Chris – and then take a second glance at Mark. Even though Mark had blonde hair that fell over his forehead in messy floppiness, and Chris had a sleeked brown head, they had matching brown eyes, piercing and startlingly wide - they were undeniably brothers.
Billy shot Chris a look when they sat down. Chris shrugged. “Hey Billy.”
“Good afternoon Markovic my boy – I hear you’re back for good.”
Mark reached over to grab half of chris’ sandwich. “Looks like it.”
“Haven’t you and Johnnie caught up yet? Much as I’m sure my dad will be delighted by this…”
“Haven’t seen him.”
Billy pondered – “probably in chess club or other such geekish pursuit.”
Chris smiled and shook his head quietly.
“Hey Beevis and Buthead. Been looking for you. “  A tall sixteen year old with long stringy blond hair and an acne pitted face slid his tray on the table. “And oh man, unless my eyes deceive me –this isn’t little Mark is it? How ya doin’?”
Mark grinned as the teenager leaned over his tray to vigorously shake his shoulder. “Hey Robbie.  How’re you?”
“Good, good thanks – well as good as can be .. broke and depressed. How come you’re here Marky Mark? Your dad’s not decided to move back into El Ponso residence on the lake has he?”
“Not exactly. “ 
“Hmmm, and since you’re here, how is that?”
“I’m sort of moving here.”
“Uh huh – “ Robbie grinned. “I sort of heard about that.” He lifted a milk carton up to his lips and took a long slurp.” That’s cool man. “ He burped loudly.
Billy laughed. “perfect timing. See how’s behind you moron?”
Robbie glanced – “oh why didn’t you tell me, man? That’s only Robin Cook, mark – one of the most bolicious bodies in this place.”
“Bolicious? Jeeze rob – where d’you get this stuff?”
Mark reached over and stole Chris’ apple out of his almost empty lunch bag. “I gotta go. Cheers.”
“Hey keep strong man – don’t let the bastards get you down!”
Mark grinned and started making his way across the tables and out the cafeteria.
Chris turned to his friend. “Gawd Robbie – can you not at least try to be a good influence. God knows he needs it.”
Robbie emptied the contents of his jelly bowl into his mouth. “Chris my man,  your brother’s great, but really he’s always been heading for that iceberg, man. What I say ain’t going to make a blind bit of difference.”

Mark took a deep breath as he felt a rush of cold air hit him as he walked outside. It was a cold day for October and he hadn’t brought his jacket.  But he preferred being outside to sitting in the lunch room. He wasn’t used to the stares of people who half recognised him in the hallways.
He struck off across the grass for the art building at the far end of the field. There must be somewhere to smoke around here.
He smelled it before he saw it, a low wall concealing the steps to the underground storage under the arts building.
Four people instinctively looked up, paranoid as he approached. He half recognised a couple of seniors as full time lake people. The other two looked at him curiously as he fished out a cigarette. “Gorra light?”
“If I can bum a smoke?” Mark glanced at the boy who spoke – fifteen or sixteen, slightly built with dark hair standing beside a girl of about the same age, a fringe dyed black hiding piercing green eyes and a pale complexion.
“Sure.” He passed the pack over. The girl refused. “I don’t smoke thanks.”
Mark raised his eyebrows at her. “Bit of a crazy place to hang out then, isn’t it?”
She shrugged. “It’s a free world.”
Mark grinned. “Fair nuff.” He took a deep drag on his cigarette, thinking of the film they’d been shown in health studies that morning, showing how black a lung could develop, the words  of a rasping cancer patient overlaying the pictures. He shrugged it off, like James Dean said, live fast, die young and leave a good looking corpse. Actually he didn’t think that was James Dean. He wondered if Chris would know.
The boy shook his head vigorously, like he was shaking the smoke out of his mouth. “So you happy to be back?”
Mark scowled – “Do I know you?
“You’re record proceeds you Bryant. It’s a very small town here.”
“Oh – well, yeah, I guess. ”
“I’m Paul.” He reached out a hand.
“Bryony.” Mark nodded.
“It caused a huge stir what your big brother did. My mom’s a teacher in the elementary, she told me all about it.”
“He didn’t do anything bad.” Mark said automatically leaping to Gus’ defence.
Paul pursed his lips. “Hey steady man. I wasn’t criticising. It’s just not that usual to have a full blown scandal in a town like this. And your brother didn’t tell anyone for weeks – and then when your dad came to town – there are still some old gals gossiping over their coffee about it.”
Mark looked shiftily at the ground, remembering what gus had said at the time, outside the courtroom, mark’s small trembling hand held by his bigger one, both of them wearing unfamiliar ironed shirts and slacks, ‘Be good mark - tell no one about what happened, it could get your big brother in a lot of trouble, okay?’.
He took another drag on his cigarette. “So what?”
“So nothing, calm down, jeeze. It’s nice to get a bit of a distraction in a town like this, that’s all.”
“Fine.”
“You doing theatre class?” Bryony asked suddenly.
“uh, no. At least I don’t think so.”
“oh.” She sighed and scuffed the toe of her shoe in the dirt. “That’s too bad.”
Paul caught Mark’s eye and smiled.