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Nov. 4th, 2024 02:32 pmTom stays home the next day. Well, he and Daniel go to an ER so he can be evaluated properly, and then he stays home, following doctor’s orders and getting rest besides. It had been a long night, but there hadn’t been any other incidents after that first one. Whoever had set off the explosion obviously just wanted to make noise or cause destruction, otherwise they likely would have stuck around and the night would have gone very differently.
His sling is a little uncomfortable, but it does what it needs to do and keeps his shoulder still so it can heal, and he has a spare pair of glasses he can wear while he orders a replacement for the ones that now rest, twisted and cracked, in the trash can. Come Monday, he’s feeling well enough to go back to work. His knee and back are bruised, his face still has some ugly scabs from tiny shards of glass and a thin line of stitches from a longer shard, but he’s not bedridden. Daniel helps him dress, just like he’d helped Daniel not so long ago, and he heads into Darrow High like it’s any other morning.
A few students look shocked to see him in such a state; a few others ask if he’s okay, and offer to help him with things throughout their respective classes. By third period, Tom has fallen into a rhythm with greeting his class with reassurances that yes, he knows he looks like he does, yes, he’ll be just fine thank you, and no, he does not need any extra help.
“What happened?” one of them asks.
“Well the Purge, Mr. McMurty,” he answers, with a tone that suggests he should think it was quite obvious. “I was in a closed down store, helping to keep an eye on things, and as it so happened, someone decided to cause property damage. There was a small explosion and I was caught in it.”
The student that had asked, Cole McMurty, looks a bit contrite for having asked, but two students behind him look altogether guilty. They glance at each other, and one of them swallows hard, and Tom realizes with a cold stone of certainty that these are two of the people involved in the explosion.
“I, ah,” he starts, and clears his throat. “Let’s get on with the lesson, shall we? That’s enough reminiscing about unhappy memories.”
He manages to finish class, but even he isn’t entirely sure how. Relying, perhaps, on the camouflage that Robin had so astutely called him out over in Hawkins. After the final bell of the day, Tom makes his way to the principal’s office. The conversation he has there is even less reassuring than the expressions on those two students’ faces.
“I’m sorry, Tom,” he says, hands shrugging where they rest linked on the surface of his desk. “There’s just nothing we can do.”
Tom sighs, face tightening at the way it pulls his shoulder even despite the sling. “No, of, of course,” he says.
His sling is a little uncomfortable, but it does what it needs to do and keeps his shoulder still so it can heal, and he has a spare pair of glasses he can wear while he orders a replacement for the ones that now rest, twisted and cracked, in the trash can. Come Monday, he’s feeling well enough to go back to work. His knee and back are bruised, his face still has some ugly scabs from tiny shards of glass and a thin line of stitches from a longer shard, but he’s not bedridden. Daniel helps him dress, just like he’d helped Daniel not so long ago, and he heads into Darrow High like it’s any other morning.
A few students look shocked to see him in such a state; a few others ask if he’s okay, and offer to help him with things throughout their respective classes. By third period, Tom has fallen into a rhythm with greeting his class with reassurances that yes, he knows he looks like he does, yes, he’ll be just fine thank you, and no, he does not need any extra help.
“What happened?” one of them asks.
“Well the Purge, Mr. McMurty,” he answers, with a tone that suggests he should think it was quite obvious. “I was in a closed down store, helping to keep an eye on things, and as it so happened, someone decided to cause property damage. There was a small explosion and I was caught in it.”
The student that had asked, Cole McMurty, looks a bit contrite for having asked, but two students behind him look altogether guilty. They glance at each other, and one of them swallows hard, and Tom realizes with a cold stone of certainty that these are two of the people involved in the explosion.
“I, ah,” he starts, and clears his throat. “Let’s get on with the lesson, shall we? That’s enough reminiscing about unhappy memories.”
He manages to finish class, but even he isn’t entirely sure how. Relying, perhaps, on the camouflage that Robin had so astutely called him out over in Hawkins. After the final bell of the day, Tom makes his way to the principal’s office. The conversation he has there is even less reassuring than the expressions on those two students’ faces.
“I’m sorry, Tom,” he says, hands shrugging where they rest linked on the surface of his desk. “There’s just nothing we can do.”
Tom sighs, face tightening at the way it pulls his shoulder even despite the sling. “No, of, of course,” he says.
