Only when it was done—and he was sure his dad had either passed out or was in a decent mood because he got off—did he go home.

* * *

“A minute, Carson,” Mr. Robinson called as everyone filed out of his classroom.

It was the last period. He was good to go home. He didn’t want to go home but it was better than being at school. He hated school. Bells telling him where he was supposed to go next. Teachers telling him what (they thought) he was going to do when he got home. Rules about what you could wear, what you could say, where you could be, how you could act.

Totally hated it.

Still, Mr. Robinson was the shit. He made class fun. He dug teaching and didn’t give a crap that everyone knew it.

Half the girls had a crush on him.

Half the boys wanted to be history teachers when they grew up.

Because he liked the guy, Carson walked to his desk.

“Yeah?”

As Carson was walking to the desk, Mr. Robinson got up and rounded it. That was another way he was cool. He didn’t sit behind his desk like a dick with some authority and lord over you that way. He also didn’t stand behind it like he had to have the desk between so you wouldn’t infect him with high school loser-ness.

He got close. Man to man.

Respect.

Yeah, Carson liked him.

“You good?” Mr. Robinson asked when he stopped close but not too close. Friendly. Natural.

“Yeah,” Carson replied, not asking why he’d asked because he had a bruise on his cheek and one on his temple so he knew why Mr. Robinson asked.

Carson didn’t hide it. He never hid it. Everyone saw it. They always did.

He didn’t really care. It was his life for now.

Then he’d be gone.

But only Mr. Robinson would call it out. School had started over a month ago, the first time he had Mr. Robinson’s class, and the man had been giving him looks for a while.

Carson knew right then the teacher was done with just looks.

Mr. Robinson leaned a hip against the desk and put a fist to his other one. He then tipped his chin to Carson’s face and dipped his voice quiet.

“Looks like something got rough for you recently.”

“It’s all good,” Carson lied.

Mr. Robinson gave him a long look before he sighed.

Then he said, “Talked with some of your teachers.”

Carson said nothing.

“Your grades are good, Carson, very good. Especially for a kid who only half the time turns in homework.”

Carson had no reply to that either.

“You turned it in more often, you’d be on the honor roll,” Mr. Robinson shared.

Carson had no interest in the honor roll.