Page 1 of Pieces Into Place

Prologue

Kane - 13 years old

“I think this vacation is gonna be killer. Don’t you think, Tyler?“ the red-headed kid says.

“Definitely. We’re going to murder those slopes,“ replies the blond one.

I’m ignoring it. I won’t give them the reaction they want. My eyes remain fixed ahead on the back of the head of the kid with the faux hawk.

“We will slay them,“ says the one who looks like a Chucky Doll.

My eyes involuntarily roll. Slay them? That one was weak. Surely, they can do better than that.

“Maybe we can go to the butcher shop with my dad after skiing?”

Deep breath.

I wish I could walk away, but we have to wait in this stupid line every day after lunch.

They turn to look at me as if they didn’t know I was here, both slightly larger than I am. Not that their size matters. “Oh. You should come, Kane. Maybe your dad can come, too?”

Is he really going to go there? That would be a big mistake. My heart is beginning to beat faster as I clutch my fist at my sides.

“Oh wait, he can’t,” mocks the redhead.

Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven, Six—

Blondie invades my space, leaning in close to my left ear. “Too bad your real dad was murdered, Kane,” he murmurs snidely.

My vision tunnels into nothing but shades of red. I have a vague realization of spinning and landing a solid punch to the head of the blond one. Next, I tackle the other one to the ground, pounding my fists into his face. I hear my name being called from somewhere behind me, but it doesn’t stop me. Nothing exists right now except making these two pay for their cruel words.

Suddenly, hands are gripping me, trying to stop my attack, and the voices of Callan and Marcus, my closest friends, filter in.

“Kane! Stop!” Callan yells. He tightens his hold on my shoulders and hauls me backward.

I wasn’t done with them, but I allow him to restrain me while I take deep breaths, forcing myself to calm down. I stand there, looking at the boys on the ground, shaking with barely contained rage.

Both boys are bloodied, but otherwise, they appear fine. They take their time to get up and wipe the crimson evidence of their beat down off their faces. Those dickwads will live to tease another day. They just won’t be teasing me.

“Dude, that was crazy,” Marcus says beside me, his hand on the back of my neck, leading me away from the scene as the crowd of kids who witnessed the fight hoot and holler. “Remind me never to piss you off. My face is too perfect to get beaten,” he says, angling his chin toward the sky for emphasis.

I can’t help but exhale a laugh. Marcus can always get a laugh out of me. Callan is loyal and more intense, but Marcus is easygoing and relaxed. He’s always ready with a joke to de-escalate a situation.

Usually, I am, too, unless people talk about my father. It’s the one thing that can make me lose my cool. Unfortunately, people have figured that out and use it as a tool to get under my skin.

We don’t make it too far from the scene of the fight before we hear the voice of Mr. Ruger, the yard duty helper.

“Mr. Hudson,” he yells, “stop where you are.” We halt in our tracks but don’t turn around. Our fancy private school has a strict no fighting policy. Unfortunately, they are relaxed on the no bullying policy.

“Balls!” Marcus whispers next to me. “We can trip him while you run.”

I huff out another laugh. “Thanks, Man, but it won’t do any good.” I slowly turn around and get ready to face the music.

“I get it, Kane, I do. But fighting is not how you handle it,” my mom says as we sit in the office and wait for the headmaster to call us in. She’s not telling me anything I don’t already know.

Staring down at my feet, I reply, “I agree, Mom. I just get so sick of being teased.”

“I understand,” she says, gently rubbing my shoulder. “It’s mean and cruel, and those brats will be punished for bullying.”