Page 5 of Outcast’s Return

“I should thank Fabien for having my back,” Clement remarked, looking at me.

“My pleasure,” I replied darkly. “Any day.”

Baptiste was the first to laugh at my comment. And then Clement. And then even I was laughing.

“What was the book you stole?” Clement asked Baptiste. “It better have been worth this shit.”

Baptiste pulled out a thick hardback from his backpack. It was an advanced war strategy book, written by some long-dead general in some long-dead country.

“Really?” Clement sighed. “That fucking thing?”

“Its first rule is that the best weapon you can have in war is your allies,” Baptiste replied.

The words, corny as they were, landed.

Clement smiled at me.

“Allies, yeah?”

“Yes,” Baptiste replied. “Allies.”

“Allies,” I added. “I like the sound of that.”

And from that moment on, the three of us were inseparable. Our heroics in the library spread through the school like a fire. It was fair to say we were famous. Overnight, we became the three boys who defied Mr. Lockwood.

We studied in the same classes.

We competed in the same sports.

We even created our own rudimentary language that we used to pass secret notes to each other.

And we became brothers. We learned to check in on each other, even when no one else did. We looked after each other. We fought with each other. For each other.

At night, we would sneak up to the roof of the academy and watch the stars and dream of a future when we would be free from the shackles of the institution holding us back.

“We will run this school one day,” Clement announced as we lay back below a full moon.

“No,” I replied. “We will run the world.”

We spent vacations at each other’s houses, mostly Clement’s. Playing, scheming, and pushing each other physically and mentally. We were preparing for an adult life where we were masters of our fate. We weren’t just wild – we studied and learned.

We really were going to run the world together one day, and it felt like nothing could stop us.

* * *

I loved my father.

He was a kind man. A good man. That was a rarity to find in the Castaways, let alone in their ruler. He was a reformist. He brought Baptiste into the fold because of his brain and his talents. He made sure everyone was looked after. He loved my mother in a way that men like him never do. He was the first to encourage my love of art, buying me my first artwork. He saw the potential in me.

I didn’t owe him anything.

I knew he loved me.

And, one day when it was raining outside, and I was studying on my own, he sat me down and made me close my textbook and told me, straight in my eyes...

“You’re my legacy, son.”

Those words sank in deep. I carried them as armor. As proof. I felt the echo of his voice deep in my chest.