Chapter One

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"Okay, this is the last thing for tonight."

George sighed in relief, eagerly waiting for the woman to continue.

"The faster we can get done, the better," He thought bitterly, tapping his pencil against the edge of the table.

"We started working on the quadratic formula yesterday, and I left you with a few practice problems. Did you get around to finishing them?" The woman asked, adjusting her ponytail.

"Yes ma'am." He searched through a folder of papers before pulling one out and sliding it to her.

She took a moment to scan over the paper. "It all looks good, except the seven should be negative on problem two."

With a disappointed sigh, George nodded and reached for a pen to correct his mistake.

"It's okay. We'll practice a little more with this, then you'll have a quiz in a couple of days." His tutor handed him a couple more problems, then began gathering her things.

"You've done well this unit, I'm proud of you." Her kind smile eased George's disappointment a little.

Once she had left, George beamed. He didn't receive compliments often, so he took each one with an extra sense of pride. Deciding to leave his books for later, he bounded up the stairs and into his room.

Just before he could shut the door, Ari, his bodyguard, poked their head in. "You hungry?" They asked, stepping into the room.

"A little bit," George mumbled, flopping lazily onto his oversized, fluffy beanbag.

"Orange chicken sound good then?"

"Sure, thanks, Ari."

"No problem, I'll bring it in when it's done," They said, clicking the door shut behind them.

"In the meantime, I could use a shower." George heaved himself off of the beanbag and after finding something comfortable to wear, he set his clothes on the bathroom counter and started running the warm water.

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Ruffling his damp hair with a towel, George walked across the tile floor and into his room. A shiver jolted down his spine from the sudden cold air against his skin.

He tossed the towel aside and was pleasantly surprised to find a fresh, hot plate of orange chicken and rice sitting on his bed. He climbed onto the bed and pulled the plate to him. It took a while, but he finally found a show to watch on his tv and began eating.

Around half an hour later, George had just finished the last bite of chicken, when he heard a car pull in next door. Setting his plate aside, he slid off of his bed and shuffled over to the window.

A small kid hopped out from the passenger side and scrambled into the house next to George's, followed by a taller, dark-haired boy. He assumed they had just gotten home from school.

He leaned onto the window ledge, his previously upbeat mood now downcast, The desire to attend public school like the boys next door did was strong, but not strong enough to convince his father to let him go.

He stepped back and grabbed his plate to carry with him downstairs. After rinsing it off and setting it into the dishwasher, which was something his father had always told him to "leave for the maids to take care of later," George approached his bodyguard and tapped their shoulder.

They spun around. "What's up? How was the food?"

"It was good. Thank you, Ari." He bowed respectfully.

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