Tuct Side - 13. Chapter 10

What were you put on this earth for?

What role did God bestow upon you before you were born? Or if you’re not into that stuff…

Why do you exist?

Now, I’m not some self-absorbed brat with a hero complex, so I won’t say I was born to cure Tuct Side of its afflictions or something like that. I was just a teenage, aspiring journalist with a camera.

I’d like to say it was a coincidence, but what was one coincidence after another? After a while, it started to feel like I was meant to uncover the truth. That could be my dormant ego talking, but after all this time, thinking about it now, either it was fate or we were dealing with a very sentient town, one that wanted to turn itself from the inside out.

Saturday, August 18th, 2012

The weekend had finally arrived, which meant that the cousins would start their volunteering job at the Tuct-In Children’s Group Home. For a while, the place used to be an abandoned parish church, decay slowly taking the structure down. However, ten years ago, the ones in charge had the sudden idea of turning it into an orphanage due to the rising homeless and drug problem on the western side.

Which brought them to now, parked before the refurbished former place of worship.

“No sense of originality these days, huh?” Kaspar said as he stepped out of the car to stare up at the building.

“What do you mean?”

“It looks about the same as the new one that’s being built.”

West took in the location and almost laughed. It did look a bit similar, the only differences being the brick composition and no pinnacles or a nave roof in sight.

“Oh yeah. Now that you mention it…”

Kaspar breathed out a chuckle. “Well, let’s go sign up for teenage parenthood.”

The blond laughed and followed the redhead inside the building. They were greeted with a wide expanse, vinyl flooring littered with toys, empty juice boxes, and ten or so rowdy, small kids that froze at the sight of the newcomers.

It was quiet for about a second before one of them, a small blond boy, went slack-jawed. “Woah. Woah! It’s- Y-You guys are…”

Kaspar immediately adopted his cool, bored attitude and nodded once. “’Sup, kid.”

West put on a bright smile and waved. “Hey, little dude. What’s up?”

“D-Double Clutch and Ghost!?” the boy ran up to them, shock and excitement taking over his expression.

Ghost. Kaspar’s basketball nickname. It wasn’t often anybody used it, the redhead preferring to be called by the shortened version of his first name, but it seemed it was popular among the younger generation judging by the realization of the duo town celebrities in their presence.

“Wait, what!?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh,” West winked at the disbelief on their faces.

And soon enough, they were being flocked by a crowd of little boys and girls, vying for attention, pictures, and autographs. West had to laugh. It was almost a parallel to the commotion in Bradvons Park.

“Kids, come on! Don’t hound them like that!” a familiar, silvery, and stern voice resounded from the back. West looked up to spot a short, russet-haired woman quickly making her way over. She was an attractive, young woman. When he first called her, he guessed her age range to be about around the thirties and forties, but she looked like she stepped right out of college.

“Therrie!” the boy who noticed them first shouted giddily at her. “It’s Double Clutch and Ghost! From the basketball games! Did you bring them here?”

“No, but I have a feeling they’re going to be sticking around for a while?” her gaze lost its exasperation when it turned to the two teens.

West answered with a nod. “I hope so.”

“Really?” the children bounced in growing joy, making West's heart swell.

The woman giggled. “That’s right, but let me see if it’s alright with them. You guys head over to the lunchroom while I sort things out.”

Of course, they begged to stay, still wanting their fill of the famous high school sports stars, but she shooed them all out. Once they were gone, she stuck out a hand for a shake.

“Hi, guys. I’m Theresa Moldier. Therrie to the kids. Sorry. They’re rowdy on the weekends.”

“Not much different than us, then,” West turned on the charm. “I think we’ll fit right in.”

Theresa grinned. “You don’t say? Well, let’s get your schedules settled in.”

However, before they got moving, someone else made their way in. All eyes went to a hulking boulder of a man, his large, muscular body stretching out his moss green shirt and black jeans. He stomped forth in combat boots with his head down so that his dark, curly hair covered his face.

“Oh, sweetie!” Theresa spoke in surprise. “You’re off?”

“Huh?” he looked up at last. “Oh, yeah. Gotta get goin’.” Then his sights went to the boys behind her and West felt a strange sense of familiarity hit him. The man’s bushy eyebrows furrowed in recognition. “I’ve seen you two before.”

“Yeah?" the blond stepped forward. "We play for Patriot High. West Kuttner. And my cousin-”

“Kaspar Dedekind,” the redhead introduced himself, discreetly bumping his shoulder against West's to stop him from going closer. “Nice to meet you, man. Are you guys…?”

A shy but loving smile graced Theresa's youthful face as she gazed up at the huge guy. “My fiancé, Bran Morterero, but we plan to seal the deal in November.”

Both boys stilled. The two adults didn’t notice.

“Wants a whole Thanksgivin’ feast and everything,” Bran wrapped a big around Theresa’s slender shoulders, a sly, cocky grin on his face just for her. “Jesus, woman, a double celebration? You keep tellin’ me you ain’t a princess.”

Theresa practically swooned. “Oh, hush, you. It’s for the kids.”

West glanced at Kaspar, who looked just as astonished as he felt. “That’s…” he mouthed.

“Brother? Cousin?” his relative replied voicelessly and shrugged.

The blond was taken back to February, the night of their championship victory at Malt Chimney. The two individuals that moved past them, their moods on different sides of the spectrum. He now knew one of them had to be Neil. Could the other be this guy? Now that West got a good look at him, there was some semblance of his brooding adversary. Although, instead of eyes of lightning, there were orbs of wood. In place of pale, shiny skin was tan and coated in jet black stubble.

“I’m so sorry!” Theresa failed to conceal her laughter. “We’re such teenagers over here. No offense. Let’s get you two situated.” She wrapped her arms around Bran briefly. “See you tonight, hun.”

“You two, babe,” he kissed her forehead before turning to the boys, who still watched in stunned silence, and nodded. “Good seein’ you boys.”

“You, too, man,” West responded, surprised he was able to keep his voice from stuttering.

“Say hello to my lil’ brother, yeah?”

And that did it. “R-Right. You got it.” His wide eyes went to Kaspar’s.

“Brother,” the redhead mouth, confirming that mystery.

Getting the schedules figured out was almost a blur. West’s thoughts remained on Bran Morterero, older brother to Neil Morterero. Cousin to Jorge and Javier Rabellino, the latter of which they have yet to meet.

If fortuity had anything to say about it, it was only a matter of time.

“It really is wonderful to have you guys here,” Theresa beamed. “Considering earlier, the kids will love you guys.”