The next day arrived, and as usual, Mark woke up around 6:45 a.m.
Still groggy, he shuffled into the bathroom to freshen up. After his shower, he threw on a white long-sleeve T-shirt, a sleek black bamboo vest jacket, dark navy jeans, and a pair of black sneakers — casual, clean, and ready to face whatever Brookhaven had to offer.
As he came downstairs, the smell of breakfast greeted him like a warm hug.
His mom stood at the stove, cooking bacon, eggs, and toast, humming softly to herself.
> "Morning, Mom," Mark said, sliding into his seat at the table.
> "Hey, Mark. Can you go wake your sister up?" she asked, handing him a plate.
> "No need," he replied, taking a bite of toast. "I can hear her coming down."
Right on cue, Mary came sprinting down the stairs.
She wore a black pencil skirt, matching black stockings, and white tennis shoes. Her face lit up with a warm smile.
> "Morning, Mom," she said sweetly… then looked at her brother.
> "Mark," she added flatly, her tone flipping like a switch.
> "Mary," Mark replied in the exact same way — emotionless and unimpressed.
> "No, no, no…" their mom interrupted, her tone turning sharp. "It's too early for you two to start bickering. We've got a big day ahead of us, so both of you — cool it."
> "Okay, Mom," they said in unison, their heads down like guilty suspects.
With that, the family quietly dove into breakfast — a rare peaceful moment in a city that rarely offered any.
After finishing breakfast, the family steps outside their temporary Brookhaven home. Their mother flags down a taxi—an old model with a little bounce to its wheels. The driver is a stocky, dwarf-like man with a salt-and-pepper beard and a strong Latina accent.
"So, where you off to?" he asks as the trio gets in.
"Silver High, please," their mother responds politely.
"Will do," the driver nods and pulls into traffic.
Mark dozes off quickly, head leaning against the window, while Mary scrolls through her phone, giggling at texts from her friends back in Zim. For nearly an hour, they cruise through the dense urban sprawl of Brookhaven—graffiti-tagged walls, street vendors, flashy storefronts, and the occasional broken hydrant spraying mist into the summer air.
Eventually, Mark wakes up, rubbing his eyes just as he notices a few students in white uniforms walking northeast.
"Mom, drop me off here," he says.
His mother glances at him in the mirror. "What about the entrance procedures? I know I paid tuition, but can you handle it?"
Mark smiles gently. "Yeah, I'll be fine."
Grabbing his bag, he exits the cab and waves as it drives off—his sister heading to her middle school, and his mom to work.
Mark walks the path he saw the other students taking, his eyes scanning the surroundings. Every crack in the pavement, every flickering streetlight, every face—he absorbs it all like a sponge. It's a little grimy, sure—definitely ghetto—but not hopeless. Just... worn down.
He's passing by an alley when muffled voices catch his attention. Curiosity piqued, he stops and peeks in.
Eight dudes in blue school blazers are surrounding a lone student in white—the Silver High uniform. The lone student is about Mark's height, with messy blonde hair, sharp features, and silver rings on his fingers. Athletic. Confident. Standing protectively in front of a girl.
She's beautiful—an Indian girl with long black hair and striking green eyes, clearly Mark's age.
Mark instantly knows this is bad news. Those eight? Built like senior year delinquents. Some have tattoos peeking out of their collars and sleeves. They're not here to play.
"Get out the way, pretty boy… before we make you," one of the blue-blazers growls.
Adrian—the guy in white—smirks. "Yeah yeah… but before that—"
He turns slightly, locking eyes with Mark.
"—you over there. Mind getting the girl to safety? It's about to get ugly."
Mark freezes. Wait... he saw me? I was sure I was hidden!
Still, he listens. Something about the kid's tone makes you want to listen. Mark darts in, helps the girl up. "Hey, you okay?" he asks.
Before she can answer, a punch flies straight at Mark's face—but bam—it's stopped inches away.
Adrian's hand, the one with the silver rings, has it caught.
"Good job, random guy," Adrian says, lollipop still between his teeth. "Now get to a safe distance. I've got this."
Mark nods and backs away with the girl.
The leader of the group laughs. "You think you can take all of us alone?! Boys—get him!"
Seven dudes rush Adrian at once.
Two punch first—but Adrian dodges effortlessly, hands still in his pockets. He sweep-kicks one, then spins into a roundhouse that drops the other.
Mark's eyes widen. What… the hell… was that?
One by one, they come at him—and one by one, they fall. Clean, precise, brutal.
Only the leader remains.
"Okay, your turn, big guy," Adrian grins, this time pulling his hands out and throwing a flurry of kicks. But the leader weaves through them like a pro, then bam—lands a heavy left hook. Adrian blocks it in time, sliding back a step.
"Oh, so you're a boxer, huh?" Adrian says, shaking his hand. "Guess this'll take a bit longer."
But just then, the leader's phone rings.
"…Hello? Yeah. Uh-huh. I'm coming."
He hangs up and eyes Adrian.
"Yo, what's your name?" he asks.
"Adrian."
"Well, Adrian, name's Bruce. I gotta bounce—but we'll finish this next time."
And just like that, Bruce walks off.
After Bruce stormed off, the three were left in the quiet aftermath of the commotion.
"Thank you... Adrian, was it?" the Indian girl said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"No prob," Adrian replied coolly, slipping the lollipop back into his mouth. He gently took her hand. "Just make sure you stay out of trouble... I can't stand seeing a pretty face bothered by losers."
Her cheeks flushed pink. "It's Payal," she said, barely above a whisper.
Mark stood off to the side, his face frozen in a weird hybrid of confusion, boredom, and 'why am I here' energy—like a background character who just realized the camera was rolling.
"I'm still here, you know," Mark finally muttered, deadpan.
"Oh yeah… who are you again, random guy?" Adrian blinked, genuinely puzzled.
"I'm Mark. I'm trying to get to Silver High," he said.
"Bet, let's go together then. We're already late, so we might as well enjoy the walk," Adrian said, twirling his lollipop stick like a sword.
And just like that, the trio began their walk toward Silver High. A new school, a strange city, and unpredictable energy in the air.
As they moved through the unfamiliar streets, one thought echoed in Mark's mind:
> "This place… isn't normal."