The days after the fight moved slowly.
Jayden spent most of his suspension at the group home — drawing, helping with chores, trying not to think about how close he'd come to losing everything again.
The other boys mostly left him alone. They'd heard about what happened at school.
In their world, a fight wasn't weakness. It was a language everyone understood.
Still, Jayden didn't feel proud.
He hadn't just hit Marcus. He'd hit every face that had ever laughed at him, every wall he'd ever punched in silence. It wasn't about that kid. It was about every time he'd felt powerless — and that scared him.
He didn't want to be that person anymore.
---
The Note
On the second day of his suspension, he found another note slipped under his door.
"You around after dinner? Meet me at the park — T."
He hesitated for a long time before deciding to go.
When he finally walked there, the sun was dipping low, painting the sky in pale orange and violet. The swings were empty, but Tasha was sitting on the old picnic table, sketchbook in her lap, headphones hanging around her neck.
She looked up and smiled when she saw him. "Hey, trouble."
He shook his head, sitting beside her. "You shouldn't call me that."
"Why not? You kinda are."
"Yeah, but not on purpose."
Tasha closed her sketchbook and leaned back, watching the clouds shift above them.
"I know," she said softly. "That's what makes it worse, huh?"
Jayden didn't answer.
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the wind move through the trees. He caught himself watching the way her hair lifted in the breeze, the way she looked calm even when she probably wasn't.
"You ever wish you could just… start over?" he asked suddenly.
She tilted her head. "Like, wipe it all clean?"
"Yeah."
"All the time," she said. "But then I think… if I erased everything, I'd lose the few good things too. The people who showed up when it mattered."
Jayden looked at her. "You mean your family?"
She shook her head. "Nah. Not them."
He didn't press. Something in her tone said don't ask.
---
The Rooftop
The next evening, Tasha found him again — this time outside the group home. She waved from the sidewalk, that mischievous spark in her eyes.
"You busy?"
He shrugged. "Not really."
"Good. C'mon."
She led him three blocks down to an old laundromat, then around back to a metal ladder that climbed up the side.
"You serious?" he asked.
"Scared of heights?"
"No. Just rules."
She grinned. "Then break one."
He followed her up.
At the top, the town stretched out below — lights flickering on, the hum of traffic fading in the distance.
It wasn't much, but it felt endless compared to the walls he was used to.
Tasha sat cross-legged, looking out. "When I was little," she said quietly, "I used to come up here to get away. My mom was usually gone, my stepdad was usually drunk. This was… the only place I could breathe."
Jayden listened, his chest tightening. "You don't talk about them much."
"Not much to say," she said. "They're just… background noise now."
He nodded. "Yeah. I get that."
For a long time, neither of them spoke. The night wind moved soft and cool between them.
Then she said, "You know what's funny? Everyone sees you like you're angry all the time. But I think you're just tired."
Jayden looked at her, caught off guard.
She smiled faintly. "You wear it different than most people. Anger's easy to spot. But that kind of tired? That's the kind you feel in your bones."
He wanted to tell her she was wrong. That he wasn't tired — he was broken, used up, barely hanging on.
But the words didn't come.
Instead, he whispered, "Yeah. Maybe."
She nodded, then pulled something from her bag — a small folded piece of paper.
"I drew something," she said, handing it to him.
He opened it. It was him — sitting on the swings, sketchbook in his lap, head slightly turned. The lines were soft, deliberate.
He almost didn't recognize himself.
"You made me look… peaceful," he said quietly.
"That's how you looked when you didn't know I was watching."
He swallowed hard. "Why'd you draw me?"
"Because you see things the way I do," she said. "Broken, but still kind of beautiful."
The air between them changed then — not romantic yet, but something deeper. Something fragile.
Two kids who'd seen too much of the world, finding a quiet place where it didn't feel like it was crushing them.
They stayed there until curfew came and went. Jayden knew he'd get written up for it, but for once, he didn't care.
When they finally climbed down, Tasha looked back and said softly, "Don't let this place take your quiet away. It's the best part of you."
---
That night, back in his room, Jayden lay awake staring at the ceiling.
He couldn't shake her words.
He couldn't shake her.
And for the first time in years, he felt something close to hope — and it scared him more than anything else.