It's said that the brain and heart are composed 73% water, and the lungs 83%. The skin is holds 64% water.

The muscles and kidneys 79%, and the bones 31%, according to the information on the site I had just seen.

So, I'd assume people's stupidity comes from the excessive amount of water they have and must consume. (Too much of something makes you stupid, kids!) My mother said that's nonsense, but she isn't exactly the science type, so her words tend to be invalid.

"Emergency enrollment, Mom? What's that even supposed to mean? I should believe that I'm actually going to school during the summer, right?" I said, quietly. "I'm an A+ student!"

"Fariq."

"I'm not even drinking any water these days!"

"That's... concerning." She sipped her tiny porcelain cup of tea. She eventually looked up at me, her normally hard brown eyes now soft and shiny. But, with a steady voice, she said, "But, um... You will go to Ghost Academy. You will study hard. And you will not complain."

"But---"

She dismissed me with a wave of a shaky hand, and I went upstairs to my room.

My family's wealth and connections were supposedly "built on prestige and self-respect."

What a joke. Their wealth was built off of promises they couldn't keep. This "Summer School" thing was probably one of them; and, being the Stretches only kid, I was roped into it. (And it looked like I would be for the rest of my life...)

Now they were going to make me study harder than I already did, at some mystery boarding school, and they'd continue to act like they didn't have a child

Tomorrow was the day I went to New York, to that place.

I promised myself I'd be the worst student ever.

...

"Hey, give that back!" I yelled to the kid who just stole my glasses. They had on a gray hoodie, so I couldn't see their face. I ran after them, cursing my weak condition.

This "school" looked more like a prison than a school. It had pretty marble walls and silver shiny lockers, but everyone wore the same navy blue pant suit uniform.

Obviously the thief had neglected the rules. They wore blue jeans, and, like I said, the gray hoodie.

"Hey!" I yelled again, speeding down the hall after the person. Scattered kids stared (nosily) as we ran.

The thief turned the corner in a flash. I went around the corner, too, and I saw that they had met a dead end. I had them cornered.

"I-I got you... N-now give m-me... my glasses! Please!" I wheezed.

The person in the hoodie said, "You're dead here."

What? "Excuse you?"

"You shouldn't have come. They'll all eat you alive."

It was a deep, decisive voice. I stepped forward. "Why do you care?"

He was silent for a second.

Then, "Because... Because my brother was just like you. He ended up dead a week after being here."

I just stood there. What do you say to that?

"Anyway... I need to repay him for not being there for him."

This guy wad a bit of an over-sharer. He pulled back his hoodie to reveal a strong, sharp face. He had light brown skin and pitch-black eyes. He had a purple, curly fade.

"Um... W-what did they do to him?" I asked, trying not to get distracted.

His eyes shifted to the side, then back to me. "Nothing you'd want to hear about, man."

"How can you help me if you couldn't help your brother, than? Just give me my glasses!"

Stupid thing to say to a guy who looked like he could split you in half, but his face simply fell, then hardened to where it had been in the first place.

"Guys like you don't know how to appreciate help," the boy said, scornfully. He threw my glasses my way and checked me as he passed. "You'll want my help soon. And when you do, there's a chance I won't be there."

"I won't want your help," I said, picking up my glasses. "Find a different kid to threaten."

"Maybe I will," the boy said. He seemed unimpressed with my existence. "Name?"

"Fariq Stretch."

"Step carefully, Stretch. Don't make anymore enemies, because you might have just made one."

...

When I got to my dorm, I laid right down on my soft bed. This was a pretty fancy school, I'd give it that. Giant windows, good bed, and good food, which I appreciated.

Despite being rich, I didnt, you know... use it. The Stretches spent their money, sure... but rarely on me.

So I sunk into my too-good-bed, wondered about that thief boy, and sighed.

Tomorrow classes would start, and I'd have the worst grades. I would.

And that was great and all--- stick it to my parents!--- but I was kind of worried about what the boy said. Like, I'd be killed for being weak?

No, I must have been a threat. Every school I was put in, all the kids were about grades and perfection. They didn't like competition, either.

So, what? I'd be killed over grades? What? That didn't make sense... Maybe he meant it figuratively.

"He was probably just being a jerk..." I told myself. "He was being a jerk... Like the kids at Vincent..."

If I could survive the snobbyness at Vincent High, I could handle this. So, I unpacked my stuff, and I changed into my pajamas. As I did, a paper fell out of my uniform coat pocket. I picked it up off the floor. It read:

My room is #34, on the second floor. Only come if you're in trouble.

-- Elijah Sun

Oh, good. He was sending me notes now.

"Mr. Sun, huh?" I said to myself. "Great name for somebody so..."

Harsh. He definitely not skipping to his loo in this place.

I stopped myself, and forced myself to forget about all that. He was my enemy, right? Why would he help me even after? Wasn't he clear on the maybe-I'll help-you-but-probably-not thing?

"Whatever," I said. "Don't care. I'll be alright."

Little did I know, I wouldn't be.