Expulsion gave Liam Barrett a dangerous choice. Needing to transfer for his final year, he'd known immediately where to go. It was a distantly familiar place that'd taken everything from him; had once ruined him so absolutely and twisted his persona...
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Young Liam had wrung his hands together at the school gate after the last bell. Other students whizzed past him, desperate to finally walk home whilst he waited.
ㅤHis first day couldn't have gone better. He'd talked to lots of people in his different classes and, although he couldn't quite consider any of them friends yet, he was optimistic.
ㅤHe wasn't yet ready to go home, however.
ㅤHe scanned the flood of pupils in their matching uniforms, many towering over him and blocking his view, much to his annoyance. He'd felt tremendously guilty for that boy he'd met at the cake stall at lunch. He'd been rude and so he needed to apologise.
ㅤMinutes ticked by and Liam gradually deflated, believing he'd missed him. Such worries were temporarily forgotten once he spotted his father walking up to the gates, keys jingling in hand with a very particular tune Liam could always recognise out of all others.
ㅤAlthough Liam had been comfortable in prep school until now, his parents had sent him to this state school for a reason. It was important he learnt to converse with those born less fortunate than himself.
ㅤClass in Britain ran strong. One could recognise someone's class from a mere passing exchange, wordless or not. The differences were real, whether it was one's accent, their interests, or their social rules and conventions; to be working, middle, and upper class was to live in one of three separate nations on the same soil.
ㅤLiam's parents had been aspiring middle-class, born poor but attended grammar schools, climbing the slippery ladder. They'd become wealthier than they'd ever intended to be, overshooting. And, whilst they could never quite be upper-class, after daying in boarding schools, their children were almost such.
ㅤLiam was used to kids in his same financial position: quieter and reserved children whose rowdiness was limited to aggressive sports and snide undercurrents in conversation. Arrogance was expected, everyone openly was— a self-aware flaw they'd laugh off. Some, though, had kindness attuned only to status, cruel to those below. Liam doubted he would become like that particular breed, even if he didn't attend this place. His parents wouldn't have let him.
ㅤHowever, he was surprised his dad was picking him up instead of his mum, who normally collected them. His dad finally spotted him but Liam lingered by the gate, still wanting to wait a few more minutes before giving up.
ㅤHis father approached with a warm smile.
ㅤ"You ready to go yet, kiddo?"
ㅤLiam shook his head and swatted his father's hand away when he tried to embarassingly ruffle his hair.
ㅤ"There's someone I want to talk to before we go." He was still searching through the ongoing tsunami of kids and teenagers.
ㅤHis dad hummed in theatrical interest. "Is it a girl?"
