Okay.
So this was happening.
Jackson stood on the sidewalk outside New Salem High School as the sheriff's cruiser disappeared around the corner.
The second it was gone, the polite smile he'd been forcing onto his face vanished.
His shoulders slumped.
The exhaustion came rushing back.
The anger too.
Slowly, deliberately, he raised one hand and flipped off the empty street.
"Yeah."
His voice was flat.
"Took you long enough."
Inside his head, Holt snorted.
That all?
Jackson considered it.
Then raised his other hand too, "Fuck the police."
Holt laughed despite himself.
Okay, fair.
The moment passed.
The humor vanished almost immediately.
Because the school was still there.
The sheriff was still gone.
And Holt was still supposed to be sitting in a jail cell.
Jackson stared at the building.
Rows of windows.
Brick walls.
Human students walking in and out.
Normal.
Ordinary.
Safe.
The kind of place humans looked at and assumed belonged to them.
The kind of place Jackson had spent years imagining.
The kind of place he used to wonder about.
Not anymore.
Not after last night.
Not after the sheriff.
Not after everything.
Holt was quiet for a few moments.
Then—
Jackie.
"What?"
You okay?
Jackson almost laughed.
Almost.
"No."
Honest answer.
"No, I'm really not."
The admission hung between them.
Neither of them tried to argue with it.
Because what was there to argue?
They hadn't slept.
They'd spent the night in jail.
Their friends had no idea where they were.
Their mother was probably terrified.
And the sheriff—
Jackson's jaw tightened.
The sheriff.
The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.
Because the man hadn't suddenly become nice.
He hadn't suddenly become reasonable.
He hadn't looked at Jackson and seen an innocent kid.
He'd looked at Jackson and seen a human.
That was the difference.
Nothing else.
The same body.
The same person.
The same teenager.
Just a different face.
And suddenly the handcuffs disappeared.
The accusations disappeared.
The suspicion disappeared.
Jackson felt sick.
"He never even called the school."
Nope.
"He didn't check if I was actually a student."
Nope.
"He didn't call my mom."
Definitely not.
"He didn't ask a single question."
Because he already decided what he wanted to believe.
Jackson looked away.
Because that was exactly it.
The sheriff had decided.
The same way he'd decided Holt was guilty.
The same way he'd decided Jackson wasn't.
Not because of evidence.
Not because of facts.
Because of what he expected to see.
Holt was quiet.
Then—
You know something?
"What?"
We gotta stop doing this.
Jackson frowned.
"Doing what?"
Pretending.
The word landed heavily.
Jackson looked down at the pavement.
The answer came before he could stop it.
"I know."
Neither of them spoke for a few seconds.
Students continued filing into the building around them.
Laughing.
Talking.
Living their lives.
Completely unaware of the conversation happening inside Jackson's head.
Completely unaware of the fact that two people were standing where they saw one.
"We have to stop pretending we're human."
The words came out quietly.
Holt didn't argue.
Because for once there wasn't anything to argue.
Jackson continued staring at the crowd.
"We can pass."
Yeah.
"We can hide it."
Yeah.
"We can pretend."
A pause.
"But we're not."
The words hurt.
Not because they were wrong.
Because they were true.
His whole life Jackson had wanted things to be simpler.
Wanted there to be one answer.
One box.
One category.
Human.
Monster.
Normal.
Different.
Instead he'd gotten something messier.
Something complicated.
Something people didn't understand.
He wasn't human.
Not entirely.
And Holt wasn't a mistake.
Wasn't a disease.
Wasn't a problem to solve.
Holt was his brother.
His other half.
His family.
Him.
And the second Jackson thought that—
The memory hit him.
The sheriff.
The jail.
The way they'd looked at Holt.
The way they'd talked about him.
Monster.
Criminal.
Dangerous.
Jackson's stomach twisted.
Because if the sheriff had known the truth—
If he'd known Jackson and Holt were the same person—
Then Jackson knew exactly how that conversation would've gone.
The same way it always did.
The same way it always would.
Holt spoke softly.
Mom's probably freaking the fuck out.
That hurt even more.
Because she absolutely was.
Jackson could practically picture it.
Their mother sitting beside her phone.
Calling everyone she knew.
Trying not to cry.
Failing.
Waiting.
Wondering.
Not knowing.
"We need to get home."
Yeah.
"We need to find a phone."
Yeah.
"We need to tell somebody we're okay."
Yeah.
A pause.
Then Holt added:
After we figure out how to permanently get me outta jail, I don't feel like being a wanted convict.
Jackson rubbed his face.
One problem at a time.
The school doors opened nearby.
More students spilled outside.
The morning crowd continued moving.
Nobody paid attention to him.
Nobody looked twice.
Nobody cared.
A month ago that might've felt nice.
Today it just felt hollow.
Because none of them knew him.
Not really.
They saw the face.
Not the person.
They saw Jackson.
Not Holt.
Not both.
Never both.
Jackson sighed.
"Come on."
Where we going?
"No idea."
Great plan.
"Thanks."
Anytime.
Jackson started walking toward the school entrance.
He'd taken maybe six steps when a voice called out.
"Hey."
He stopped.
Of course.
Of course it couldn't be that easy.
Three boys stood nearby.
Older.
Bigger.
Athletes by the look of them.
One wore a varsity jacket.
The other two looked almost identical.
Twins.
The varsity kid smirked.
"Thought so."
The twins exchanged a glance.
One laughed.
The other nodded.
"Yeah."
The varsity kid folded his arms.
"Still got that new kid smell."
Jackson closed his eyes.
Just for a second.
Because honestly?
He was too tired for this.
Too tired to be scared.
Too tired to be nervous.
Too tired to care.
Inside his head Holt groaned.
Seriously?
Seriously.
The first twin grinned.
"What should we do to him first?"
The second immediately answered.
"Wedgie?"
They laughed.
The varsity kid chuckled.
Jackson just stared at them.
Three idiots.
That's all they were.
Three idiots who thought they'd found an easy target.
Three idiots who had absolutely no idea who they'd decided to bother.
The varsity kid pointed at him.
"You got a name, new kid?"
"Jackson."
The twins immediately made faces.
"Jackson?"
"That's lame."
"Cool."
The varsity kid stepped forward.
"Maybe we'll call you New Kid."
"Maybe I'll call you Generic Bully Number Three."
The smile vanished.
Instantly.
The twins exchanged looks.
The atmosphere shifted.
The varsity kid moved closer.
"You got a problem?"
Jackson laughed.
A tired, exhausted laugh.
The kind that came from somebody who had spent the night in jail.
The kind that came from somebody who had run completely out of patience.
"You have no idea."
The first twin stepped forward.
The second followed.
The varsity kid nodded toward Jackson.
"Grab him."
Jackson stared.
Then sighed.
Slowly.
Deeply.
Like a man reaching the end of a very long day despite it only being morning.
Inside his head Holt spoke.
Jackie.
"Yeah?"
Try not to kill anybody.
"No promises."
The first twin grabbed for his shoulder.
Bad decision.
A very bad decision.
Because exhausted or not—
Angry or not—
Human-looking or not—
Jackson Jekyll was still half monster.
That came with monster strength.
While against someone like Manny he was weak, against some regular humans, he was more than strong enough.
And some lessons people only learned the hard way.
The twin's hand never reached his shoulder.
Jackson moved first.
Fast.
Far faster than any human should have been capable of moving.
The boy's eyes widened.
A brief flash of confusion.
Then—
WHAM.
The sound echoed across the front lawn.
The twin staggered backward.
Hard.
Students nearby stopped walking.
The second twin froze.
The varsity kid froze.
Even Jackson froze.
For a second nobody moved.
The twin slowly looked up from the pavement.
Shock written all over his face.
Absolute disbelief.
He touched his mouth.
Looked at his hand.
And stared.
Several teeth hit the concrete beside him.
Silence.
Complete silence.
Around them, students began gathering.
Murmurs spread.
Confusion.
Questions.
Shock.
Nobody understood what they'd just seen.
Because they were looking at Jackson.
A skinny kid in a hoodie.
A normal-looking teenager.
A human.
Except—
He wasn't.
Not completely.
Never completely.
And as the stunned crowd stared at him, Jackson slowly lowered his fist.
His knuckles hurt.
The twin looked terrified.
The varsity kid looked pale.
And for the first time all morning—
Nobody was mistaking him for human anymore.
And that made him smile.
For a moment—
Nobody moved.
The front lawn of New Salem High had gone completely silent.
Students stood frozen in place.
Backpacks hanging forgotten from shoulders.
Conversations cut off mid-sentence.
Even the teachers standing near the front entrance looked stunned.
The twin on the ground stared up at Jackson with wide eyes.
Like he genuinely couldn't understand what had just happened.
Jackson couldn't really blame him.
Most people took one look at Jackson Jekyll and saw exactly what they expected to see.
A skinny kid.
A quiet kid.
A harmless kid.
The kind of person people shoved around because they assumed he wouldn't shove back.
The kind of person people underestimated.
The kind of person people thought was safe to target.
Jackson was getting very tired of that.
The second twin recovered first.
"What the hell?!"
He rushed forward.
Angry.
Embarrassed.
Not thinking.
Jackson didn't even hesitate.
The boy grabbed his hoodie.
Jackson grabbed his wrist.
Twisted.
Stepped forward.
And threw him.
Not elegantly.
Not dramatically.
Just efficiently.
The twin hit the grass several yards away and rolled to a stop.
More gasps erupted from the crowd.
Someone dropped a textbook.
A teacher shouted something.
Jackson didn't hear it.
Because he was angry.
Really angry.
Not the hot explosive kind Holt specialized in.
The cold kind.
The quiet kind.
The kind that sat inside your chest for years.
The varsity kid finally realized things weren't going according to plan.
Unfortunately for him—
That realization came a little late.
"Whoa, whoa—"
Jackson grabbed the front of his jacket.
The boy's eyes widened.
"Wait—"
"Funny."
Jackson's voice was calm.
Way too calm.
The crowd had begun backing away.
Creating a circle around them.
Nobody wanted to get involved.
Nobody wanted to get close.
The irony almost made him laugh.
"What's funny?" the varsity kid asked nervously.
Jackson stared at him.
Then slowly looked around.
At all the students.
At all the spectators.
At all the people suddenly paying attention.
And something ugly twisted in his chest.
Something that had been growing since last night.
Since the jail.
Since the sheriff.
Since Holt.
"You know what I noticed?"
The varsity kid clearly didn't want to answer.
Jackson didn't care.
"NOBODY gave a shit when it was me."
The words echoed across the lawn.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody interrupted.
Because nobody knew what to say.
"You walked up."
Jackson pointed at the twin on the ground.
"You threatened me."
Then at the other twin.
"You tried grabbing me."
Then back at the varsity kid.
"And all of you thought it was funny."
Silence.
Jackson looked around again.
At the crowd.
At the students.
At the people staring.
"Nobody said anything."
The anger was becoming more visible now.
Not loud.
Not explosive.
Visible.
His hands shook slightly.
His jaw tightened.
His eyes burned.
"Nobody stepped in."
Nobody moved.
"You were all perfectly okay watching three guys gang up on one person."
The crowd looked increasingly uncomfortable.
Because they knew he wasn't wrong.
Jackson laughed.
A humorless sound.
"But now?"
His gaze swept across the circle.
"Now everybody's scared."
Nobody met his eyes.
"Interesting."
The varsity kid swallowed.
Hard.
"Look, man—"
"Man?"
Jackson interrupted.
The boy immediately stopped talking.
"Now it's 'man?'"
The bitterness in Jackson's voice surprised even him.
"Five minutes ago I was 'new kid.'"
The varsity kid looked like he wanted to disappear.
Jackson honestly couldn't blame him.
The first twin was finally getting back to his feet.
Holding his jaw.
Looking terrified.
Good.
For once somebody else could be scared.
The thought hit Jackson.
And immediately made him feel worse.
Because that wasn't him.
Or at least—
It wasn't supposed to be.
Inside his head Holt finally spoke.
Jackie.
"What?"
Stop.
Jackson clenched his fists.
The crowd remained silent.
Watching.
Waiting.
Jackie.
"What?"
You're proving your point.
The words hit harder than the punch had.
Jackson froze.
Because Holt was right.
The worst part?
Holt was usually right when Jackson least wanted him to be.
The anger was still there.
The bitterness too.
But now exhaustion was creeping back in.
Pulling at him.
Dragging him down.
The varsity kid slowly backed away.
Then another step.
Then another.
The twins immediately followed.
None of them looked interested in continuing.
None of them looked interested in being anywhere near Jackson anymore.
The crowd parted for them.
Like they were fleeing a wild animal.
Jackson noticed that too.
Of course he did.
The irony practically punched him in the face.
The moment people thought he was weak—
Nobody cared.
The moment they realized he wasn't—
Suddenly everybody was paying attention.
Suddenly everybody was nervous.
Suddenly everybody was afraid.
A teacher finally pushed through the crowd.
"What's going on here?"
Nobody answered.
Several students immediately found the pavement fascinating.
The teacher looked between Jackson and the three bullies.
Then sighed.
The sigh of a man who already regretted coming to work.
"You."
He pointed at the varsity kid.
"Office."
The boy immediately protested.
"But he—"
"Office."
The teacher pointed at the twins.
"You too."
More protests.
More excuses.
The teacher wasn't interested.
Finally his attention shifted toward Jackson.
Their eyes met.
For a second neither spoke.
The teacher looked uncertain.
Like he wasn't entirely sure what to make of him.
Jackson was used to that look.
The teacher cleared his throat.
"And you."
Jackson sneered.
"What?"
The teacher blinked.
Apparently he'd expected an argument.
Jackson was too tired to provide one.
The crowd slowly began dispersing.
Students returned to their conversations.
Though now those conversations were very obviously about him.
Whispers followed him.
Questions.
Speculation.
Rumors.
The usual.
Jackson barely cared.
His adrenaline was fading.
Leaving exhaustion behind.
His body felt heavy.
His head hurt.
His stomach hurt.
Everything hurt.
The teacher started leading the three boys toward the building.
Jackson followed several steps behind.
The crowd continued thinning.
Most students wanted to get to class before they got dragged into whatever this had become.
Which left one person standing near the edge of the lawn.
Watching.
A girl.
Black hair.
Brown eyes.
Holding several books against her chest.
She looked about his age.
Maybe a little younger.
Definitely human.
Definitely nervous.
Jackson recognized the expression immediately.
Curiosity.
The kind that always came after somebody saw something unusual.
Great.
Exactly what he needed.
The girl hesitated.
Then took a few steps forward.
Jackson immediately knew where this was going.
"Um..."
He stopped walking.
Barely.
The girl smiled awkwardly.
"Hi."
Jackson waited.
The smile became more nervous.
"I'm Claire."
A pause.
Then she held out a hand.
"You're new, right?"
Jackson looked at the hand.
Then at her.
Then back at the hand.
Part of him knew she was probably just being nice.
Part of him knew she hadn't done anything wrong.
Part of him knew she was trying.
Unfortunately—
That part was currently losing the argument.
Because he'd spent the night in jail.
Because Holt was still trapped.
Because his friends didn't know where he was.
Because his mother was probably terrified.
Because the sheriff had treated him differently the second he looked human.
Because he was exhausted.
And because right now?
He really didn't want to meet anybody.
Not humans.
Not monsters.
Nobody.
Claire waited.
Still half smiling awkwardly.
Jackson finally answered.
"Not interested."
The words came out flat.
Not angry.
Not cruel.
Just tired.
Completely exhausted.
Claire blinked.
"Oh."
Jackson walked past her.
The offered hand slowly lowered.
For a second she looked hurt.
Then confused.
Then thoughtful.
Like she wasn't entirely sure what had just happened.
Neither was Jackson.
Inside his head Holt sighed.
That was rude.
"I know."
She seemed nice.
"I know."
Then why—
"Because I don't have time."
Holt fell silent.
Because unfortunately?
Jackson was right.
He didn't have time.
Not for introductions.
Not for new friends.
Not for human schools.
Not for any of this.
Holt was still in jail.
His mother was still worried.
His friends were still looking for him.
And Jackson had absolutely no idea what he was going to do next.
So he kept walking.
Leaving the confused girl behind him.
Leaving the whispers behind him.
Leaving the crowd behind him.
And for the first time all morning—
Jackson Jekyll felt completely alone...