1 - School... Why Did It Had To Be School?

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The melody thrummed through Varian's headphones, a bassline that vibrated through his chest as he hunched over his desk. A half-finished sketch lay in front of him, a fantastical cityscape sprawling across the paper, buildings twisting into impossible shapes. Outside his window, the familiar bustle of New York City faded to a distant hum. He could practically feel the frenetic energy of the streets, the cacophony of horns and shouts that usually fueled his creativity. But not today.

A knock on the door, tentative and laced with worry, shattered his focus. Varian yanked the headphones off, the sudden silence jarring.

"Varian? Can we come in?" It was his dad, his voice strained.

Varian sighed, the frustration a bitter taste on his tongue. He straightened in his chair, shoving the sketch under a pile of science textbooks. "Yeah, come in."

His parents entered, their faces etched with a mixture of sadness and what looked suspiciously like relief. His mom, ever the optimist, managed a small smile. "Hey, champ. We just wanted to see if you've started packing yet."

Packing. The word slammed into Varian like a brick wall. He knew this day was coming, ever since the incident with the OsCorp lab fire (a "misunderstanding," his dad insisted to the police). But knowing and accepting were two different things.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbled, pushing himself away from the desk. "Almost done." It was a lie, a pathetic one at that. His backpack lay empty by the bed, a silent accusation.

His dad, bless his heart, seemed to believe him. "Great! Remember, the shuttle picks you up at six tomorrow morning. We'll wake you up."

Varian stared out the window, the cityscape blurring into a kaleidoscope of emotions. "Right," he choked out.

His mom reached out, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder. "We know this isn't what you wanted, Varian. But-"

He cut her off, unable to bear the familiar apology. "I know, Mom. It's just..." He trailed off, the frustration bubbling back up. "It's not fair."

There was a heavy silence, thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, his dad cleared his throat. "Look, we'll visit every weekend, okay? And maybe, just maybe," he winked, "we can convince Principal Stern to let you work on your science projects in the school lab."

Varian managed a weak smile. Principal Stern, with his iron fist and disdain for anything remotely unconventional, seemed unlikely to tolerate his unorthodox experiments. But even a flicker of hope was welcome in this dark tunnel.

After his parents left, Varian sank back onto his chair, staring at the abandoned sketch. The vibrant colors mocked him, a reminder of the life he was being forced to leave behind. He wasn't cut out for the rigid routine of a boarding school, for stifling classrooms and pre-approved activities. He needed the chaos, the unpredictable energy of the city, to spark his inventions.

But there was no use arguing. With a sigh, he reached for his bag, the weight of the impending journey settling heavily on his shoulders. As he started packing, a new resolve hardened in his eyes. He wouldn't let this break him. He'd find a way to thrive, even in this gilded cage. After all, wasn't a little ingenuity what being a scientist was all about?

Varian tossed a crumpled sock into his bag, his movements jerky with frustration. "This is ridiculous! It wasn't even my fault about the fire! Mr. Smythe practically shoved me into that stupid machine."

His mom winced, her ever-present smile strained. "We know, sweetie. We got the whole report from the police. But OsCorp has a zero-tolerance policy, and..." she trailed off, her voice thick with unspoken worry.

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