In this area, the lights never come on, there are no visitors, and it's always dead silent. The houses stand empty without residents, and no one wants to buy a home here.
Twelve-year-old Luke Campbell suffers from loneliness - he has no friends, an...
That night, the boy found it difficult to fall asleep. It had happened to him before more than once, and Luke had taken sleeping pills several times, but they didn't always help and probably wouldn't this time either. There are medications that make it easier to fall asleep or wake up, but no pills have been invented yet that completely silence unnecessary thoughts.
Who is Aliya anyway?
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She couldn't have been a ghost - ghosts are transparent and can pass through objects, and the boy didn't notice anything like that about her. Perhaps the girl was a witch - that seemed more likely, though there are no real spells in the real world either. And most interestingly, Aliya appeared in his life just when he needed it most.
It all reminded him of some kind of fairy tale. This couldn't possibly exist in reality; reality isn't constructed that way. Luke had long outgrown the age when children believe in various fantasies. The gray reality remained the only possible option for him.
Could he be hallucinating, losing his mind altogether? What if Luke is seriously mentally ill and needs help urgently? Okay, even if that were true, what should he do now - approach his parents and tell them everything as it is?
The boy turned on his bedside lamp and started drawing something on the last page of his notebook. When anxiety reached its peak, he always sought an activity to help drown out the intrusive thoughts.
***
He managed to sleep for a solid three and a half hours - not bad at all, considering his insomnia. If Luke doesn't fall asleep right in the middle of class today, then the day can be considered successful. There is no sense to expect anything better.
He is there again, within the walls full of hatred. Luke's classmated embodied everything he despised: conformity, shallow interests, and a lack of intellectual curiosity. Their conversations revolved around trivialities that held no interest for him, and that undoubtfully left him feeling isolated in a sea of idiots.
Luke rushed into the classroom, barely making it on time. He hurried to his seat, hoping to settle in before the bell rang. But as soon as he entered, Jack's voice sounded right next to his ear.
"Guys, why are you standing around? Beat up the loser!"
Some of his classmates began pushing and hitting him. They started a fight with him, shouting angrily. The boy tried to defend himself, but he was outnumbered.
He felt scared and confused as the chaos erupted around him. Books and papers flew through the air as the other students continued to yell and shove. Luke's heart raced with fear, not understanding why they were attacking him. He tried to get away, but they blocked his path, taunting him with harsh words.
The teacher burst into the classroom, shocked at the scene before them. They quickly intervened, separating the victim from the others and calming the situation.
Luke stood there, shaken and bruised, trying to catch his breath. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, and his jaw was rigid with suppressed fury. Deep down, he understood that revealing his anger could only make things worse. It always was like that.
"It wasn't me..." the boy wanted to say something in his defense, but he lacked the courage - behind him, a mocking laughter echoed through the entire crowd.
"Luke Campbell, please come with me into the hallway," the teacher's voice was stern, "I will escort you to one place."
***
Mr. Thompson's office was a place every child scared to be invited inside. If school headmaster wants to talk to you, you shouldn't expect anything good.
The office itself was located at the end of a long corridor lined with photographs of past graduates and awards. Luke was sitting inside and waiting for his time of judgement. The room was spacious, furnished with luxurious dark oak furniture. A large mahogany desk stood right in the center of the room, meticulously organized with stocks of papers and a polished brass lamp. On one side of the office, a tall bookcase stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with leather-bound volumes and academic trophies. The walls were adorned with framed certificates and motivational posters.
Behind the desk, Mr. Thompson's high-backed leather chair stood imposingly, facing a pair of comfortable armchairs for visitors. The windows overlooked the school grounds, offering a view of neatly trimmed lawns and the occasional group of students passing by.
Finally, the conversation began.
"Luke Campbell, you are undermining the authority of our school."
"It wasn't me who started this fight!"
It seemed to be the first time in his entire life that the boy attempted to argue with an adult. He wasn't used to behaving like this; he hadn't been taught to. Luke only knew that one should always listen to others because they are right and know better.
"You come from a pretty good family, and I am sincerely impressed that your parents raised you so poorly." The principal continued his line, refusing to listen to any arguments.
"I won't allow you to speak against my parents!" The boy's voice erupted into a shout - he had never felt so enraged. His mind was filled with bitter hatred.
"But you did wrong and you must answer for it."
"I was just defending myself! They started it all first!"
Mr. Thompson seemed to let it all go in one ear and out the other - he didn't particularly feel like saying anything against the children of wealthy and influential parents anymore. As you've probably figured out, Luke was from a different social stratum.
"Campbell, I will consult with your teachers regarding your punishment," finally spoke the headmaster, "You should seriously reconsider your behaviour."
