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Luther's POV

My mother's old tires screeched as the car come to a stop in front of a small bungalow.

The house is so old that the paint is practically falling off.

The sky roars with thunder, and the raindrops beat against the roof of the car. It's like a thousand spirits are telling us that we are not welcome in Densberry.

This is the seventh town my mother and I will be moving to after my father did the most shameful thing ten years ago…

A decade earlier, I was just an ordinary boy growing up in a metropolis, with young parents in love.

My mother was a senior accountant in a big firm, and so was my father.

Everything changed when my father spent two months secretly moving large funds into an untraceable account. Afterwards, he disappeared without a trace, carrying all the money with him.

My mother didn't know what to do. Her husband told her nothing of his eight figure heist, so she picked up her seven years old child, and ran away. We've been on the run ever since then.

When I got a little older, she explained to me that running is easier than going to jail and having me thrown into the foster system…

So, for that long, we've been running. Eyes out for bounty hunters, who have been promised millions if they can find and drag us back to the city.

We hurriedly left the former town, Quinns, because one of the bounty collectors saw my mother and pursued her into a dark alley.

She shot him with an old gun she kept tugged in her underwear, then she piled our stuff into her old Volkswagen, and picked me up from school.

I was in the middle of taking my chemistry practical tests, my hands still smell of ethanol from the lab…

I look at my mother, noticing the small splatter of blood on her cheek. She was in such a haze that she didn't see it.

I want to reach out and wipe it off with my thumb, but my hands won't move. I'm still in shock from being moved without prior notice.

“We are here, Luther. This is our new home.” She gestures to the house across the street. That awful eyesore.

I inhale. “For how long?”

“Is that supposed to be a joke? Because, it's not funny.”

“I mean we spent only seven months in Quinns. I think it's my right to know so that I won't bother getting comfortable here.”

“Please, Luther, do not even start with me.” She rolls her eyes as she gets out of the car.

We work together wordlessly, taking our bags into the small house.

She flicks a switch in the living room, and only half of the bulbs come on.

There is furniture in the old house, but they looks at least a hundred years old.

My mother uses a rubber band to hold her hair up before she starts to drag things around, trying to make the place habitable – even for a day.

“I was able to get this place from a nice old lady on F******k. The rent is something we can afford and she got the furniture from a shelter downtown.”

I sit at the edge of one of the kitchen stools as she beat life into one of the sofas, and placed a bedsheet on it.

“You will spend the night here, because you need to go to school tomorrow. By the time you come back, I would have found a job, and also gotten your room ready.”

School… I feel as if strength is being drained from me. “Aren't you going to give me a chance to get myself together? I don't even need all the classes, I will pass the exams anyway.”

Yes, I am one of those students that dabble in art and sciences at the same time. Some might say a genius, but I don't like to brag.

“Don't even start with me, Luther. You are going to go in your old uniform from Quinns.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No one has probably heard of Quinns here, so you are safe. Just keep your head down while I figure things out, okay?”

I sigh. I've been here before, I've had this conversation with her over and over again, and I'm exhausted.

When will any of this end?

******

Densberry High School.

It's situated in the middle of the town, and many of the kids convey here by cycling.

My mother dropped me like a block away, so that I can observe carefully before walking in.

My sweet mother, she has called and made all the arrangements for me. I just need to find Mrs Mabel, the homeroom teacher of grade 12.

“Mrs Mabel, grade 12.” I whisper to myself over and over again.

As I get closer to the entrance, I notice how many eyes are on me.

“Is that a new kid? Why is he wearing a uniform?”

I don't blame them for staring. I'm a slightly thin and tall boy, with an androgynous face. I would stare at me too.

Yeah, no one else is wearing any kind of uniform. My mother knows this, but she didn't want my first day to be in my faded clothes…

A ring of loud laughter catches my attention, about five boys are sitting on a bench in front of the school.

They are holding huge bags and hockey sticks in their hands. I don't need a soothsayer to tell me that they are probably the star hockey players of the school.

Who is the boy in the middle…

I catch him in the middle of a laugh, and I'm stunned.

He is rocking a buzz cut, and his dentition is the most perfect set I've ever seen. His throat ripples as he takes a huge gulp from his water bottle, his veiny hand wipe over his mouth.

I feel myself swallowing, as if I have also become thirsty….

I didn't notice that I was staring so long until one of the boys nudge him, and then they all glare at me.

“Hey, newbie, what the hell are you looking at?”

Oh, dang it. Mum said to keep a low profile.

I keep my eyes away from them and keep walking to the entrance.

I was trying so hard to avoid contact with them that I mistakenly kick one of their hockey sticks to the ground.

They all flare up in annoyance, as if I have killed someone.

“What the fuck, man! You've chipped my fucking stick?!” The middle boy yells.

It's my fault, this is my chance to apologize, but my lips refuse to form the words.

Their invading eyes burrow through me, waiting for an apology.

“Well, I guess you shouldn't have kept it on the curb like that.” I say. “From how I see it, it's your fault.”

They are all flabbergasted.

Two of the boys push me, and I stagger backward. “What the hell did you say? Apologize!”

“Do you know who he is? Marlon Gustave! He is the richest boy in school and the most popular too! He can have your head if he chooses to.”

I adjust my glasses, “Maybe he is not popular enough, because I've never heard of him.”

My sharp mouth, the one that my mum said would get me into trouble, well, the day has finally come.

The rest of the boys won't allow their rich friend to fight his battle.

He remains at the back while they crack their knuckles and come after me.

I brace myself for the worst beating of my life, but the bell goes off.

Like robots, they turn around and grab their bags. “You are fucking lucky, you know that? Don't you ever let us see you again.”

They roughly bump against my shoulders as they walk down the hall, into a classroom.

Marlon Gustave is the last to enter. He gives me one last look, like he wants to kill me.

I just shake my head. Stupid, popular kids.

I walk by slowly, making sure that I check the class names at the top of the door.

“No,no,no,” I slap my forehead. “Fuck my luck.”

I'm in the same class as those boys. Fucking kill me now.