Dragon Corps

Chapter Three

School passed by in a blur for Cory. He drifted from class to class, not really paying attention to what was going on, and thankfully none of the teachers bothered him. He was relieved when his final period came, because not only did it signal that school was almost over, but it was his favorite class. Cory walked in and headed towards the broken-down ’67 Chevy in the middle of the garage that served as their classroom until he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder and forcibly spin him around.

“What the hell was that all about today?” his friend Jake spat out, his words laced with venom.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about that stunt you pulled in the quad this morning. Where do you get off embarrassing Roberta like that?”

“You know, I find it funny that you’ve been so concerned about MY girlfriend these last couple of months.”

“Please, you should be grateful you have her and me in your corner.”

“Oh yes, because you two have proven to be such great friends. I’m getting shipped off to the Academy, and you’re upset that I embarrassed the two of you? Which is funny, because you weren’t in the quad this morning. Now get your hand off of me.”

“I’d watch how you talk to me. Keep in mind you’re only on the map because you’re dating Roberta and you know me.”

“No, I’m ‘on the map’ because I’m a straight-A student and the youngest Senior here, I play hockey, and oh yeah, I don’t participate in high school drama BS. So back the hell off.”

Cory saw the anger in Jake’s face with a hint of jealousy. He knew that if Jake heard about the argument with Roberta, then he had to know that Cory had been drafted, and that had to piss him off. Jake was the one who always dreamed of being chosen for the Academy and worked hard to become fit for it, dedicating more time to working out and being a star athlete as if that was a deciding factor to being chosen by an egg.At the end of it thats all that really mattered.

“I don’t get why they would pick you. A scrawny fish stick like you wouldn’t make it five minutes in basic, let alone the Corps,” Jake spat.

“Oh yeah, because being a muscle-headed, football-playing ignoramus means you would be the prime candidate. Or does it mean that you are automatically entitled to get what you want? God, you are a cliché.” Cory turned to leave, but once again Jake grabbed him and hit him square in the jaw with his fist, knocking him to the floor. Cory was about to tackle Jake when he heard a booming voice from the door frame.

“Does someone want to explain to me what the bloody hell is going on, or do I just start slapping heads?” Cory turned his head to see the tall, burly form of his auto mechanics teacher, Mr. Blough.

“Nothing, Teach. Just helping my pal Cory here off the floor. Guy’s a complete klutz.” Jake continued with his bravado, used to having all the teachers in the palm of his hand. Cory mused that after two years, Jake would get it through his head that Mr. Blough was not one of those teachers who bought into the golden boy all-American act.

“Uh huh, funny. It looked like he had it under control. Or maybe sailing through all those classes has failed to teach you that people don’t need help off the floor if you don’t push them down with your fist.” Mr. Blough’s face was unreadable as the class erupted into laughter and oohs.

“Now, if you’re done making a bigger ass out of yourself than usual, I’d suggest you go pretend to work on the car. You know, it’s that big honking metal thing right there in the middle of the room.” Jake rolled his eyes but didn’t continue his argument and ambled to his designated spot.

“Now, can you get up, or is the floor that interesting?”

“I don’t know. The fact this is the one classroom I’ve seen with a concrete floor rather than linoleum is pretty cool,” Cory fired back as he rolled over onto his feet.

“Well, since you’re done studying it, why don’t you head on over there and start dropping down the subframe?”

“Yes, sir.” Cory walked towards the car and started jacking it up to be able to fit under it.

Class thankfully continued with no more repeat performances, but unfortunately ended all too soon. As the final bell rang, Cory put back his tools and was about to grab his things when Jake “accidentally” knocked his stuff to the floor, spilling the contents.

“Oops, shouldn’t have left your backpack open,” Jake mocked. As Cory knelt down to pick up his belongings, he became aware that he was being watched. Mr. Blough leaned back in his chair with his feet up on the desk.

“You know he’s right; about your backpack being unzipped and all.”

“Gee, thanks. You know it wouldn’t have stopped him from knocking it down, right?”

“Oh, I know. It just would have stopped it from spilling all over my floor.”

“Once you’re done over there, come over here for a spit, would ya?”

After Cory got all his gear, making sure to zip it up this time, he sat in the chair across from Mr. Blough’s desk.

“What’s up?”

Mr. Blough went from relaxed to stern as he lowered his legs and leaned forward across the desk. He didn’t speak immediately; Cory felt his gaze drilling into him as if he was extracting all the answers he wanted. While he felt scrutinized, he took this time to see his teacher's tattoos up close. The students usually avoided Mr. Blough like the plague, so there were very few, if any, incidents where they were left alone with him. Many found him intimidating, and being this close, Cory could admit that yes, Mr. Blough was indeed very intimidating. It wasn’t just because he looked like a biker with his all-black clothing, tattoos, burly muscular physique, and beard; it was because of how he walked and how he looked at you, like he’d seen enough and been around long enough to strip away a person and leave behind everything that made them who they were.

“I can tell you have some questions, so nut up and ask.”

Before he could think about what he could appropriately ask, he blurted out, “Have you ever been to jail?” Immediately, he regretted it. He couldn’t believe he had just asked that of his teacher. The words just spewed out like word vomit and were now sitting on his desk in a slimy heap. Yet without missing a beat, Mr. Blough calmly and in a matter-of-fact tone replied, “Aye.”

Taken aback by the abruptness of his response, he couldn’t help but ask, “What did you do?”

Cory could see the regret clouding his mentor’s eyes as he responded, “I got mixed up with a lot of bad people doing worse things. I hurt a lot of people, whether they were good, bad, or worse. What I did wasn’t right, not by a long shot.”

“H-how long were you in there?”

“Fifteen long years. I got out right before they commissioned prisoners into mandatory military service. So, if you’ve satisfied your curiosity, tell me; how are you?”

“I’m doing okay.”

“Don’t you dare lie to me, boy. You’re telling me that you’ve had the equivalent of the weight of the world finding out about dragons all over again placed on your shoulders, and you’re just A-Okay?”

“What do you want me to say? ‘No, I’m not okay? I am scared and angry and I can’t do a damn thing?’ What does it matter? It’s not going to change a damn thing. They are going to take me and twist me into something I don’t want to be and not give one piss about it. And as soon as they are done with me, they’ll throw me aside.”

“And what is it you don’t want to be that you are so afraid of?”

“A killer. They are going to force me to use that—that thing to slaughter people who dare say no to them, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.” The words exploded out of his mouth, and with them came a bittersweet relief.

Mr. Blough leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head, and a smile playing on his face. “Now, was that so hard?”

“What does it matter?”

“Damn it, boy, it does matter. If your mind is clouded by fear and guilt about the ‘what if,’ you won’t be able to watch your own ass, and you are going to end up dead.”

“Gee, thanks. Why is it that everyone is so sure I can’t do this? I may not want to, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to completely screw the pooch on this.” He got up to leave, and before he could storm out, Mr. Blough ordered in a stern voice.

“Boy, quit this foolishment and sit yer happy, over-sensitive arse down,” Mr. Blough barked, his voice carrying a faint Scottish lilt. “Did I say ye couldn’t do this? No. If I thought that, I wouldn’t be wastin’ my time off the clock to talk to ye. What I said was, if ye don’t get yer head in the game, ye’re gonna end up dead.”

“Sir, this isn’t a game. This is life and death, not just for me but for anyone who speaks out against the Greater Good,” the boy replied, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination.

“Kid, they can’t do anything to you that you don’t let them. Ye have more control than you think. Ye just have to be smarter and much more clever, always stay three steps ahead. In the end, ye have the ability to choose. This can be a good experience for ye. When I first got into jail, my cellmate told me that how I chose to go down this road would determine whether it was a path of pain and anger or one of growth and healing. If I came in angry and bitter, that’s how I’d leave. But if I came in with an open heart and a willingness to learn, I’d find a way to heal. Same thing here. If ye don’t like where things are going, ye’re in a position to change them more than anyone else.”

“Mr. Blough, you don’t get it. I don’t want to become what they want. I don't even want to be the one to try to lead a change. I don’t want to hurt anyone or become a tool to control the masses. I don’t want to be the monster they want me to be. I don’t want to be a killer. I just want my life to be mine” Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

Mr. Blough sighed deeply, then reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a well-worn book. He handed it to the boy, who looked at it in surprise.

“When I was in the Pen, this book got me through a lot of tough times. It helped me keep perspective on who I was, who I wanted to be, and most importantly, who I didn’t want to be. I identified a lot with the main character and found comfort in the supporting characters.”

“What’s it called?” Corey asked, curiosity piqued.

“Well, if ye’d use yer magnificent power of two human eyes, ye’d see it’s called Ender’s Game. It’s an old book that I read when I was a kid. It’s about a kid recruited into a special military. Yeah, I know, sounds familiar. Anyway, this kid is taken away from his family and put into a training facility where competition and backbiting are encouraged. He’s put into brutal positions but fights to remain a good person and fulfill his purpose.”

“How did he do it?” the boy asked, hope flickering in his eyes.

“Well, I guess ye’re going to have to read it to find out.”

“Are you giving it to me?”

“Think of it as a loan. I expect to see ye again to get it back.”

“Thanks, Mr. Blough. You were always my favorite teacher.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t completely suck. Ye actually paid attention and treated this like a real class, not a bird course.”

“I need another favor, sir.”

“Yeah, I know, compliments ain’t free. What do ye need?”

“I was wondering if you could look after my mom? It’s always been the two of us, and now it won’t be. I just want to be sure she’ll be okay.”

“Yeah sure, kid, I’ll look after her, but don’t ye think she’ll be a little creeped out?”

“Why? Because you’re an ex-con?”

“Well, I was going to say I’m big and hairy and only make a teacher’s salary, but yeah, I can see that bein’ the clincher.”

“One, I’m not telling you to date my mom, and two, did you hurt a woman or a kid?”

“Hell no.”

“Then she’ll judge by your present instead of your past.”

“Very progressive woman.”

“Yeah, easy there, tiger. I just want you to make sure she’s okay from time to time, and if something happens, take care of her.”

“Sure, kid, I’ll make sure nothing happens to her. Now go on, get out of here. I’m sure yer ride is waitin’ for ye.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks again, Mr. Blough.” Grabbing his bag Corey turned around looking back at his teacher. He could have said something sappy but what came out was-

“You know I have expected you to hand me a bible.”

“Everyone expects a bible. Oy not ever ex-con leaves the clink born again, now get.” Corey raced out of the class, making his way to his mom’s waiting car.

“Hey, hun, how was your day?” She grinned opening the car door from the inside.

“It sucked, but I spoke to my auto shop instructor, and he gave me some pretty good advice.”

“What’s that in your hand?”

“It’s a book he gave me to kind of help me keep some perspective.”

“Books are very good at doing that. Did you talk to everyone about what’s going on?”

“Yeah.” Corey didn’t go into the events that happened at school, and thankfully his mom took the hint that he didn’t want to talk about it.

When he got home, he was surprised to see that his mom already had dinner made. When he asked her how she had done this, he felt warmed by the fact that she didn’t want to waste any time together and had gotten the next two days off and had surprised him by making his favorite food. Before he sat down with her, he went into his room to check on the egg and was startled to see that the makeshift nest was gone. He checked the floor to see if it had fallen, then felt a gut-wrenching thought. Did the egg hatch early? No, it couldn’t have. Everyone knew that an egg could only hatch behind the gates of the Dragon Corps Training Academy. So where was it?

Even though he knew the facts about dragon egg hatching, he still couldn’t help the tightening of his chest as anxiety crept in at the possibility of him coming face to face with a wild, vicious beast that would have to be hungry after being trapped in an egg for two days. As he crawled on all fours, he looked under his desk, in his closet, and with no luck, there was nowhere left to check but the underside of his bed. With a shaking hand, he lifted the bed skirt and lowered his head to view the underside of the bed. As he squinted his eyes to get them to adjust to the darkness, he felt his heart beat in his ears as the blood rushed to his head. He noticed his breathing had become harsher as fear washed over his body, and his imagination conjured up every possible way this could end horribly—the creature scorching him as it blows fire in his face, or meeting a painful death as the creature launches itself at his face, sinking its fangs into his flesh, ripping out his eyeballs as its fangs slice his—

BAM!!! Corey banged his head into his bed rail as his whole body sprang up into the air. “Son of—”

“Woah now, what are you doing under there?” his mom asked, her voice stern, ready to chastise him. Still holding his forehead as the bump began to form, Corey’s heart thundered in his chest as shock and relief washed over him.

“I was looking for the egg, and I can’t find it anywhere. Do you think it hatched?”

“You’ve only had the egg for two days, honey. How long do you think it takes an egg to incubate?”

“I don’t know, but what do you expect me to think? I left the egg on my desk under my lamp, and now I can’t find it anywhere.”

“You could have asked me. It’s in the kitchen.”

“Why is it in the kitchen?” he asked as he ran out of the room into the kitchen. He looked around but didn’t spot the egg anywhere. When he looked back at his mom, she smiled and pointed at the stove, where the soup pot was rattling around as it boiled. He felt the color drain from his face at the realization that not only was the dragon egg being hard-boiled, but that his mom was definitely off her nut. “Mom, what the he—”

“Corey, you watch your mouth, mister.”

“Mom, you are boiling the egg! The creature aside, I’m pretty sure killing it falls under the Dodging Act, which will get both of us hanged.” He panicked. As he moved toward the stove to remove the pot, maybe to save it, his mom stopped him with her hand on his shoulder, chuckling.

“Relax, Pulala, the dragon is fine. Please stop calling it a creature. See, everyone thinks dragons are born in fire when in reality they are born in heat. We don’t know what type of dragon yours is going to be since the shell has raised ridges like a fire dragon’s, but it’s still smooth like a water dragon’s. The colors range from a celestial to possibly an earth dragon, so I figured water would be the safest bet.”

Corey smiled at how animated his mom was about the egg, then a thought occurred to him. “Mom, how do you know so much about dragon eggs?” A faraway look crossed her face as she smiled.

“It’s just a hobby, honey. Dragons have always been a source of wonder for me.”

“Did you wish to be a dragon rider?”

“Oh, good heavens no, but before you were born, I did study them. Your father and I both agreed that they were wondrous creatures, much more intelligent than people thought.”

“You never told me that you and Dad worked with them. Were you both with the military? I thought they were the only ones with access to dragons. I mean, we never see them in the wild.”

“Honey, if I worked with the military, you wouldn’t be here. It’s a fine line between working and not working for the government. I was a Draconologist. I studied dragons in a private lab and occasionally got to work with dragons owned by the government. Come, let’s sit and eat, and we can cover this conversation.” Corey sat down eagerly, awaiting his mom to continue with her story. It occurred to him that he didn’t know much about his mom’s past or her life outside of him and the animal clinic. He watched as she made his plate, then her own, excitement bubbling up in his chest as he waited for her to start.

“So, as I was saying, I got to occasionally work with them per the government’s behest. After all these years, I still believe we have more questions than answers about them. A lot of people feel they are the same as animals, that they have limited intelligence and are only good for task work like a workhorse or a mule. But I believe the opposite to be true. I think they are capable of the same level of intelligence as humans or higher. But before I could prove my theories, I was shut down. The only thing they wanted to know was how to keep them alive, what their weaknesses were, and how to hatch them. Anything else didn’t matter, and without being able to work with them in the flesh, all we had to work on were theories and legends.” Corey couldn’t believe it; his mind was in awe of his mother.

“So you weren’t afraid of them? You didn’t find them to be dangerous or vicious?” he asked, still shell-shocked. He always saw his mom as this vulnerable but resilient woman, and now he had a vision of her taming giant fire-breathing beasts with no fear.

“Don’t get me wrong, Corey. Like any other wild animal, they can be very dangerous. And yes, when I saw one for the first time, I nearly crapped myself.” Corey choked as the unexpected curse reached his ears from his mother’s lips. This had to be serious; this woman’s worst curse word was “Shut up” when he was eleven, and that was a one-time thing. Apologizing for choking on his tea, he motioned for her to continue. Giving him an affectionate stink eye, she continued explaining all the wondrous adventures she had, the experiments she got to perform, the theories that had been proven or debunked by the experiments, and the new theories that formed as a result.

“I’m sorry, Mom, I can’t see you dissecting a dragon,” Corey said, awe in his voice.

“Dissecting?” his mother asked, confusion in her eyes. “Sweetheart, I could never harm another creature, you know that. No, the only time I have ever had to cut into a creature was when it had died and I had to perform a type of autopsy, and of course, when there is meat on my plate. The experiments I performed were cruelty-free.” Corey absorbed his mother’s stories, a new sense of admiration born from his mom of slight build, taming dragons and men, both formidable in their own right. As the laughter died down between them, he looked at his mom and, with courage he didn’t feel, asked, “And Dad?” He instantly regretted the question as her smile died on her lips and sadness clouded her eyes.

“Your father was not a scientist. I had to keep him in a corner of the lab away from my equipment because somehow he always managed to blow something up or start a fire; which wasn’t a surprise when I found out he couldn’t cook when he invited me to his place for our first “date”.

“Corey, I know deep down you have a lot of questions about your father, and I know you have so many emotions in your body about the subject. I hate that you have such a negative view about your father, but please listen to me. When your father and I found out I was pregnant with you, it was a bittersweet blessing. I say that because your father and I weren’t even allowed to speak to each other, let alone consort, yet we fell in love. When something that natural happens, no man-made force is going to tell nature what to do. Besides me, your father was ecstatic to find out about you. He didn’t care if you were going to be a boy or a girl; all he cared about was that you were healthy and you were ours. As much as it was going to hurt all of us, our number one priority was keeping you safe. So we had to leave everything behind, including each other. Your father was reassigned, and I left the lab and became a vet tech here so no one could ask questions and put the pieces together. Plus, on top of keeping you safe, we agreed we had to keep the research data safe. See, like you, your father harbored disdain for dragons at first, but as he saw my work with them, he began to see them through my eyes and saw that what the government was doing was abhorrent. So when he was reassigned, I took you and all my research, replacing it with nonsensical jobber jabber that, sadly, was believable, and we fled here. Your father and I agreed that it was best not to tell you about him and us until things were safer, but due to an unforeseen circumstance, that has had to change, and now the chessboard of your life has been reset. I can’t tell you more than I have. Just know that your father did not abandon us, and he loved you as much as I do.”

“Why can’t you tell me more? Why isn’t he here with us?”

“Honey, it’s for your own safety, and I promised your father. Now no more of this. I hear there is a party at one of your classmates'—no parents, girls, great place to rebel.”

“That party is supposed to be a secret. How did you hear about it?”

“Honey, it’s a bunch of teenagers. Y’ all are worse at keeping secrets than Fight Club. Go have fun.”

“Mom, no, we only have a couple nights together.”

“Honey, we have all night. Go for a couple of hours,” his mother reassured him. Corey knew he was being stubborn, but he didn’t want to waste what little time he had hanging with a bunch of shallow, self-absorbed jerks—two of whom were his girlfriend and supposed best friend.

He didn’t tell his mom what happened, not because he was afraid of the “I told you so”—his mom was pretty good about not rubbing it in or pressing him for answers when he wasn’t ready—but because he didn’t want to admit to himself that he had been wrong all this time about them.

“I know you’re not ready to talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you, but whatever it is, it’s good to get some closure. That way your mind will be clear and heal, which is important with you approaching this new chapter in your life. I’ll still be here, and I’ll see you when you get back, Corey. We’ll have a nice movie night.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. It shouldn’t end like this.” Corey took a deep breath and raced to his room, changing out of his school clothes into black ripped skinny jeans and a t-shirt depicting his favorite adult cartoon character about a scientist and his grandson under a black button-up shirt. He raced back out.

“Mom, can I borrow the car?”

“Sure, Corey. Just please be careful and absolutely NO drinking and driving.”

“I know, Mom. I’ll be back soon.” Corey grabbed the keys and ran to the car; as he slid behind the steering wheel, he took a deep breath. He put the key in the ignition and steered the car onto the road towards the richer part of town. He smiled to himself as he imagined the look of shock on everyone’s faces; everyone had assumed that because he either took his skateboard to school or his mom drove him that he didn’t know how to drive—never did they entertain the notion that he just simply chose not to.

Chapter Four

It wasn’t hard to find the party; he just had to follow the obnoxious sound of what was considered the newest popular hits and look for angry neighbors pissed about the commotion around them. As he pulled up to the house, the only way he could describe the chaotic scene was reminiscent of a college frat house and"Lord of the Flies." Bottles and cans littered the front lawn; the trees were decorated with streamers of toilet paper, and both the inside and outside of the house were jam-packed with people. Those who weren’t mimicking leeches with each other or passed out on the floor were already talking about how Cory Aldren was driving a car instead of being under one.

Getting out, he scanned the front lawn for either Roberta or Zack. Not seeing either of them, he walked up the front steps leading into the house, weaving through the throngs of pheromone-driven, drunken, gyrating bodies. Scanning the crowded room, he was about to give up, chalking it down to them having already left or maybe not even being there at all, when he saw Roberta’s best friend Erin.

“Hey Erin, have you seen Roberta?” he yelled, trying to get her to hear him over the loud drone of the music playing over the speakers.

Without looking to see who was asking, she answered, “She’s in Zack’s car.” Confused, Cory wheeled around, cutting through the crowd to the front door. Erin chased after him once she realized who was talking to her, recanting with different excuses.

“Oh I f-forgot she’s uh in the bathroom, she drank too much and got sick.” Her frantic lies had him bursting out of the house, scanning the crowded street that was parked bumper to bumper with cars. Not seeing her car parked out front, he ran further down the street, looking left and right searching for her car. Nearly giving up, he saw a car parked further down separated from the rest. No, no please no. As he ran towards the car, he prayed it wasn’t true—that it wasn’t Zack’s car. As he got closer, he could make out movement in the car but couldn’t tell if it was one person or two.

With his heart stuck in his throat and blood pounding in his ears, Corey reached the car. With a trembling hand, he reached for the handle of the car door and pulled. With a click, he realized the door was unlocked. Despite being already suspicious, all the fears and worst-case scenarios that had played in his head weren’t enough to prepare him for what he saw when he opened the car door. The jerk of the door caused the occupants inside to scramble, but he had already seen his girlfriend sitting in the back seat, topless with her skirt hiked up above her waist, with his best friend Zack and one other guy.

His brain felt like it was short-circuiting; he couldn’t breathe, as if he had just been kicked in the solar plexus. All he could hear was a dull roaring in his ears. He saw her reach for him, but his body felt out of his control. He just turned on his heel; he needed to get away, needed to get out of there. Before he made it far, he felt a heavy hand slam down on his shoulder and forcibly turn him around. Still feeling like he was on autopilot, in one fluid motion, he swung his fist around in the turn, connecting with Zack’s jaw. He grabbed the back of Zack’s head, slamming his face into his knee, hearing and feeling the crunch of cartilage against his knee. Zack fell backward onto the ground, dazed or unconscious—Cory had no clue. His mind was telling him to walk away, to get out of there, but for some reason, his brain was no longer in control of his body. He saw himself climbing on top of Zack, lifting him by the front of his shirt with one hand and slamming his fist into Zack’s face with the other, over and over again.

Cory was numb, his brain telling him to stop, to leave, but his body kept wailing on Zack. There was no pain—not from their betrayal and not from his knuckles cracking and swelling from the punches. Cory was aware of only two things: Roberta screaming, though he couldn’t make out what she was saying or if she was saying anything at all, just the muffled sound of her voice, and the sound of flesh striking flesh as Zack’s face became even more swollen and bloody. Cory couldn’t recognize himself anymore; it was like he was watching himself through someone else’s eyes. Finally, the pain of his bruised and broken knuckles broke through the fog and brought him back to his body, forcing him to stop. Getting back up, he didn’t stand around, he didn’t talk or yell; he just turned around, stumbled back towards his mom’s car, got in, and drove home.

As he walked in, his mom was waiting right at the door. Without saying a word, she pulled him into her arms and held him close. It was like a dam broke within him. Taking a deep breath, as if he had just come up for air, all the pain, anger, and betrayal exploded out of his body in a blood-curdling sound that was an even tear between a sob and a roar against her shoulder. She held him tightly, refusing to let him go, and at that moment, he didn’t want her to. He didn’t care that crying to his mom wasn’t a very manly thing to do; he was grateful that she was there to hold him up against the shuddering onslaught of pain and anger wracking through his body.

He must have blacked out because he woke up to a cool, wet feeling against his forehead and the back of his neck. Cory slowly blinked open his eyes and shut them tight again as pain shot through his head. If it wasn’t for him not having a drop of alcohol, he would swear he was hungover. When he opened his eyes again, he saw his mom kneeling beside him on the couch, holding a bag of frozen vegetables to his bloody knuckles, with the first aid kit sitting next to her. Once she was satisfied that she had gotten the swelling down, she proceeded to patch him up, cleaning his split knuckles with alcohol swabs. They sat in silence as she continued her ministrations. It wasn’t until she started to wrap his hand that he broke the silence.

“You knew, didn’t you?” he asked, his voice raspy as if he had just gargled with Everclear and glass shards.

“Your knuckles are broken. You’re going to have to be careful; keep those wounds clean, and you’re going to be feeling a lot of pain for a while. I’ll send you with some NSAIDs. I’m sure the academy’s doctor will take care of this should the pain get worse.” She evaded the question, not meeting his eyes, but he could tell she had been crying too.

“Mom, please, I’m not mad that you didn’t tell me, but did you know?”

“Yes and no,” she said, biting her lower lip.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Cory, you already knew I didn’t like her, and that was as far as I could go without dictating over you and sticking my nose in your relationship. Also, it wasn’t like I had any proof—all I had were suspicions and intuitions. And really, would you have listened to any of those?” As much as Cory hated it, he knew she had a point. If he had never listened and accepted the fact that she didn’t like Roberta from the get-go as enough of an indicator that something wasn’t right, then anything short of concrete proof would have just fueled discord between him and his mom.

“Is this all love is, just anger and disappointment?”

“What do you mean, honey?”

“Well, you and Dad, and now me and Roberta.”

“Sweetie, first of all, it’s ‘Roberta and me.’ You always list the other person first. Second, I already told you your father did not betray or disappoint me; life just went outside our control. But we did love each other very much, and I know he loved you very much.”

“Oh, come off it, Mom. If he loved us so much, why isn’t he here with us?”

“Cory, I know you’re hurting, but I promise you will understand soon. As far as you and Roberta, what you felt could very well be classified as a type of love, but I don’t think that frivolous creature could love anyone but herself. I hope someday she will grow out of that, but frankly, it doesn’t concern me one whit if she does or doesn’t. Love certainly is no fairytale and rarely is it a romcom; it’s work and at times stress. It’s trying, sneaky, and exhausting, and a lot of times you think you can’t stand the person, and it turns out the opposite is true. But as frustrating as it is, it’s also rewarding, fulfilling, and oftentimes the most beautiful thing in the world. Someday you will find your match, and she will challenge you and put in as much, if not more, work than you. So don’t let Roberta blind you to something better. Don’t reward her with that much control over how you heal and move on.”

“Whatever, Mom, I’m going to bed. I just need some sleep.”

“Okay, honey.”

Cory slowly sat up on the couch, his body sore all over. He kissed his mom on the cheek and made his way to his room slowly. As he lowered himself onto his bed, exhaustion swept over him, and he felt his mind and body fade.