Cameron pushed his plate away, head hitting the table. “How does she have so much energy in the morning?”

His father, Liam, had been the same. Impossibly energetic. A trait that had entirely skipped Cameron. Unfair. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a framed picture on the side. Old. Out of focus. Three people, two teens and a man. He barely remembered that day.

Others had long since burned themselves into his mind. Gaunt and ghostly. Deteriorating. An unwinnable battle with death.

Sighing, Cameron finished his food and stacked the plate in the sink. Rosa was right; he needed to eat. Even if he didn’t feel like it.

“Deal with it later,” he muttered to the silence.

He snatched the envelope marked ‘FOOD MONEY’ from the countertop and returned to his room. A persistent sense of dread filled his body. He suppressed it.

Packing his school bag, he shoved it over his shoulder and left. The outside corridor was as busted as the rooms. Wall dents, peeling paint and cobwebs. Still a step up from sleeping in a car and dingy motels. Barely.

After climbing down three flights of stairs, he made it to street level. Feet dragging, he took the scenic route to school. Everyone expected a ‘delinquent’ like him to be late. Why disappoint them? Rumours spread like wildfire when he started at his new school three months ago. Malicious gossip. Numerous fights hadn’t helped Cameron’s reputation improve. A short and fiery temper.

As usual, he walked in partway through class. His teacher - Mr. Harrison - didn’t react. Too common an occurrence. Cameron sat at his defaced desk, ignoring the hushed whispers. Maths. Whoever thought forcing anyone to do maths first thing was a sadist. No doubt about it.

He idly traced the insults and crude drawings. Some were directly related to him. Most people here would never say it to his face. Cowards. Bored, he stared out of the window. A football match. He watched them run, kicking the ball back and forth. One student, in particular, stood out.

Jerry Adler. Their school’s top player and jerk; the classic rich kid bully.

Scoffing, Cameron doodled in his workbook until the end of class bell rang. Everyone shuffled, ready to escape. One class down.

“Please collect your test papers when I call out your name,” Mr. Harrison called out over the sound of scraping chairs. “As homework, see if you can figure out any wrong answers. We’ll go through them tomorrow.”

Mr. Harrison moved down the list, each student collecting their paper. Some looked satisfied, others relieved or worried.

Finally, it came to Cameron’s turn. The last student.

“Cameron.”

Dragging his feet, Cameron walked to the front, hands shoved in his pocket. He already knew what was coming. He hadn’t even tried this time.

“You were late again.” Mr. Harrison crossed his arms. “We’ve spoken about this.”

Cameron scuffed his shoes across the floor. “Sorry, Mr. Harrison.”

Mr. Harrison sighed, stern expression fading. “I can’t keep lying on the register forever.”

“You don’t have to, sir.”

As much as Cameron hated maths, Mr. Harrison was a good teacher - the only staff member to still believe in him. He didn’t want to get him in trouble.

“I’m sure you will continue to refuse my help, but…” Mr. Harrison tilted his head. “...I am here if you want to talk. Or I could find someone-”

“Thanks, Mr. Harrison. I’ll think about it.”

“Of course.” Mr. Harrison handed over his paper. An unsurprisingly abysmal grade. “We can talk about your test more tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Cameron stuffed the paper into his bag and left. Anger bubbled up inside as he stormed down the corridor. He had one job. Graduate. Rosa worked hard to get him back to school… and he was wasting this second chance.

What would his dad think? Would he be disappointed too?

He slammed his fist against some lockers. It hurt. All eyes were on him now. Some fearful, others judging. He didn’t care. Nothing he did nor said would change their minds; three months of trying had proven that. 

He was alone.

Cradling his aching hand, he aimlessly wandered the corridors, only stopping when he heard a distant yet familiar voice. Curious, Cameron followed it to an empty classroom. He poked his head inside. Barely visible behind Jerry Adler’s hulking frame was another student. Cameron didn’t know his name; some nerdy kid from science class.

Their meeting didn’t look friendly.

Instinctively, Cameron called out, “Hey, Jerry.”

Jerry swivelled around, surprise shifting to contempt. A mutual hatred.

“Oh, Cameron.” Jerry cracked his knuckles. “Guess our last fight wasn’t enough, huh.”

“How’s the eye?” Cameron asked, leaning against the doorframe.

During their last scuffle, he managed to give Jerry an impressive black eye. It had since been covered up with makeup; Jerry Adler’s pride was too great.

Jerry scowled, fists clenching. “How about I show you?”

As he lunged at Cameron, he was knocked balance off into a nearby desk. Disoriented, he windmilled and fell back.

“Son of a- ow!”

Before Cameron could process what happened, someone grabbed his wrist and dragged him away. The boy Jerry had cornered. They ran, suddenly ducking inside the nearest bathroom.

Footsteps. Louder and louder. Angry muttering. It passed by, growing distant. The immediate danger had passed.

“What the hell,” Cameron wrenched his wrist out of the boy’s grip, “was that?”

Panting, the boy struggled to steady his breathing. “He was going to punch you.”

“Uh, yeah.” Cameron took a deep breath. “And now he’s even more pissed.”

“I didn’t want you to get hurt because of me,” the boy muttered, hanging his head; he looked like a kicked puppy dog.

Cameron gritted his teeth, feeling guilty. He shouldn’t. This kid had guts, but he was heading for a one way trip to the hospital. Nobody escaped Jerry’s wrath. 

Why did Cameron even care? If this guy wanted to get pulverised, that was his choice.

Still…

“Look,” he sighed, doubling down on his tough facade, “if you want to get through school without losing half your teeth, stay away from Jerry. And me. Got it?”

The boy seemed unfazed by the threat. “Aren’t you lonely?”

Cameron frowned. “What?”

“I’ve seen you around school but…” the boy looked sad, “...you’re never with anyone.”

That caught Cameron off guard. He stared at the boy, trying to figure out if he was genuine or not. Not that it mattered.

“What does it matter to you?”

“I don’t really have anyone to hang out with either. Maybe…” the boy offered a warm smile, “...we could be friends?”

Cameron’s heart jumped. That smile. He had seen one similar before. Equally as bright. An old memory. Running through a forest. A looming tree. His father… comfort, then pain.

“I don’t need friends, okay.”

As he walked away, the boy called after him, “If you change your mind, find me. Name’s Mateo!”

Ignoring him, Cameron sneaked out of the bathroom. The coast was clear. He did not want to bump into Jerry again today. Not if he valued his life. Done with today, Cameron snuck through a hole in the field’s fence and headed back home.

“What was that guy’s problem?” he mumbled to himself, unable to shake the smile from his mind the whole walk back. “Idiot.”

-----------------------------

And so, it begins. Keep fighting Mateo, you’ll melt that icy exterior!