Born To Be Your's

Chapter 2

Blake made it back to Northwood High with five minutes to spare, shoving the last bite of the crisp pantry apple into his mouth before tossing the core into an industrial bin. The hallways were already a thick stream of teenagers, loud and directionless, their energy a stark contrast to the quiet focus he felt after his quick escape.

His appearance was a magnet. Blake, with his raw, handsome face, deeply set, guarded eyes, and a perpetually messy head of dark brown hair, had a casual charisma that drove the female population wild. As he moved through the crowds, the girls reacted predictably: eyes followed him, some biting their lips, others offering quick, cheeky winks or nervous giggles that scattered like spilled change.

This attention, of course, made him a constant target for the guys who relied on manufactured respect to validate their existence.

He was passing the locker banks when a familiar, thunderous voice cut through the noise.

“Hey, Copper! You blind, or just too poor to buy glasses?”

Blake didn't flinch. He recognized the voice of Xander, captain of the football team, a walking stereotype of entitlement and muscle, currently blocking the hall.

Xander had clearly just witnessed his girlfriend, a girl named Bethany who Blake had never spoken to, offer him a very unsubtle wink. Instead of questioning his girlfriend, Xander chose the simpler, more aggressive target.

Xander stomped up to Blake, his face red. “You got a problem, Copper?”

Blake stopped, his posture relaxed but his eyes completely engaged. He was intelligent and quick, and his smart mouth was his most dangerous weapon.

“Only one,” Blake said, his voice level, carrying a natural, deep resonance that commanded attention. “And it’s that your breath smells like desperation and yesterday’s locker room socks. You should probably ask Bethany for some mints. I hear she's good at sharing.”

The crowd thickened immediately, sensing conflict. Xander’s face went from red to purple.

“You think you’re funny, you little piece of basement trash?” Xander sneered, leaning in. “Go home, Copper. Your sister’s probably out on the corner earning your lunch money, and you’re wasting time here.”

The mention of Laura, and the direct, filthy implication, was the key that unlocked Blake’s locked-down rage. It took a lot to get him truly angry, but threatening his family was the fastest route. The air around him went cold. His eyes narrowed, and the easy sarcasm vanished, replaced by a terrifying clarity of intent.

“Is that what your mom told you?” Blake returned, not raising his voice. “Because she pays me to tutor you, Xander. I’ve seen her checkbook. I know exactly how much she spends trying to make you seem like less of a genetic disappointment.”

That was it. The final verbal strike. Xander roared, a noise of pure frustration, and struck first. A heavy fist connected squarely with Blake’s jaw. The blow was solid, blinding Blake for a split second and rattling his teeth.

Blake absorbed the hit. He was smart, but he was also physically capable, and he knew how to fight dirty. He lunged back, not with his fists, but with the sharp point of his elbow, aiming for Xander’s ribcage. The captain grunted, the wind knocked out of him. Blake followed up with a quick, vicious punch to the throat, snapping Xander’s head back.

Before Xander could recover, Travis—the mellow, quiet shadow—tried to jump in. He was smaller and lankier, but his loyalty was absolute. He leaped onto Xander’s back, wrapping his arms around the jock’s neck like a monkey, screaming incoherently.

The fight was a chaotic mess of flailing limbs, grunts, and angry shouts, but it lasted less than twenty seconds before the sound of authority echoed through the hall.

“Break it up! Now!”

Principal Thompson, a stiff man who viewed the Copper name as synonymous with social decay, barrelled into the cluster, pulling Xander and Travis apart with surprising force.

“What is going on here?” Thompson bellowed, his eyes scanning the scene.

Xander, clutching his throat, immediately pointed at Blake. “He started it! He insulted my family!”

“Bullshit!” Travis yelled, adrenaline making him reckless.

Thompson’s head whipped around. “You shut up, Copper! You are not a part of this!”

The Principal looked straight at Blake, his eyes full of prejudiced disdain. He wasn't interested in the truth. He was interested in maintaining order and punishing the kids he already deemed disposable.

“Blake Copper, I am sick of this. Always causing trouble. Just like your father. You’re suspended. One week. Effective immediately.” Thompson then glanced at Travis, still panting. “And you, running around like an animal? You're suspended too. All you Coppers are the same trash.”

Blake’s jaw tightened, the only outward sign of his cold fury. His vision tunneled. All you Coppers are the same trash. That line was the knife wound. He didn't bother trying to argue that Travis hadn't thrown a punch, or that Xander had instigated the fight.

Thompson wouldn't listen.

He calmly picked up his backpack, adjusted the black thermal on his shoulder, and grabbed Travis’s arm.

“Come on, Trav,” he said, his voice flat.

Blake walked out of Northwood High, dragging Travis behind him, leaving the Principal to lecture Xander about his reputation. He didn't look back. Suspended for a week. He was living up to the family name faster than ever.

They walked the route back home in heavy silence. Blake knew this meant no school food, no class cover, but it meant they could resort to a heavier scheme to make up the income.

Blake was furious, but beneath the anger, a deep, icy resignation settled. They were trapped, and every attempt to be smart or succeed only ended up dragging them back into the dirt.

Blake pulled Travis out of the administrative wing and didn't stop until they were a few blocks from the school grounds. The icy calm that settled over Blake after his suspension was a dangerous quiet. He was still vibrating with suppressed fury, a contrast to Travis’s nervous energy.

The sun was still high, and the elementary school wouldn't be letting out for another hour.

They walked in silence for a minute, the only sound the crunch of gravel under their worn boots. Blake lit a cigarette, taking a long, furious drag, letting the nicotine settle the heat in his chest.

“You didn’t have to jump him, Trav,” Blake finally said, his voice low and tight. He didn’t look at his brother.

Travis fidgeted with the zipper of his jacket. “He hit you, Blake! He was talking about Laura, man. I wasn’t going to just watch.”

“I had it handled,” Blake snapped, the smoke curling up past his eyes. “I gave him exactly what he deserved. Now Thompson gets to use you to punish me. You couldn't keep your ass on the sidelines, and now we're both suspended for a week.”

Travis stopped, planting his feet firmly on the cracked sidewalk. “I… I just wanted to help. So, what are we going to do now? For the rest of the week?”

Blake took one last, deep pull from the cigarette and flicked the butt into the street, a sharp smirk spreading across his face. The anger was gone, replaced by the familiar, cold calculation of a true hustler.

“We make some money, Trav.”

He turned down the street that led toward the elementary school, walking faster now.

“We need something serious. Laura’s going to flip when Thompson calls.”

“Stealing?” Travis asked, his voice low with a mix of fear and excitement.

Blake nodded, his eyes scanning the road. “Yeah. Not the usual petty s**t, either. Laura needs us to bring in something major enough to cover the electric bill and keep us fed. We're suspended, Trav. That means we have the time. We just need the opportunity.”

“The mall is too locked down,” Travis murmured, already thinking of logistics.

Blake grinned, a genuinely wicked flash of white teeth. “We’re not hitting the mall. We’re hitting the construction site. We’ll find a garage or a construction site near the river. We'll grab some high-value copper or tools, fence it, and Laura can’t say s**t because we fixed her problem before she even knew where we got it from.”

Travis looked unsure, but his gaze was locked on his brother, seeking direction.

“It’s the Copper way, Trav,” Blake concluded. “Get in trouble, then immediately hustle your way out. Thompson wants to call us trash? Fine. We’ll be the most profitable trash.”

They reached the low-slung, brightly colored elementary school just as the first wave of noise—the sound of hundreds of small, caged creatures being released—spilled out the double doors. Ryan and Maddie would be out soon.

Blake ran a hand through his dark, messy hair. This week was supposed to be easy. Now, thanks to Xander, Thompson, and his own smart mouth, it was going to be complicated, high-risk, and hopefully, very profitable.