Quinametzin

Chapter 1: New School

I sighed as I looked out the window of our beat up old minivan, watching the scenery roll by. We had moved again - for the tenth time in three years it seemed. I could barely remember what it was like to have a place I could call home.

"How much longer, mom?" I asked, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice.

My mom Liliane glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Not too far now Michael. Just try to stay positive okay?"

I rolled my eyes but didn't say anything. It was always the same - we'd move without warning, I'd have to adjust to a new school in the middle of the semester. My brother Brian was better at making friends than me, but even he was getting tired of it.

As for me, I could never seem to fit in. It didn't help that strange things always seemed to happen around me. Like the time in third grade when a freak hailstorm blew through in May, pelting the playground right as the class bully was about to push me off the swing set. Or last year, when I somehow ended up on the school roof after being shoved into a trash can. The teachers called it a prank but I had no idea how I got there.

My mom insisted it was just bad luck, but I knew there was something strange about me. My ADHD and asthma didn't make things any easier either. As we pulled up in front of yet another unfamiliar school, I steeled myself for the day ahead.

"Have a good one!" Brian called as he jumped out, phone in hand already texting his new friends no doubt. I sighed and grabbed my backpack, following slowly behind. The halls were crowded as I made my way to the office, trying to make myself as invisible as possible. After getting my schedule, I rushed to first period English, sliding into the back row just as the bell rang.

The teacher droned on about Shakespeare as I stared blankly out the window. A wad of paper bounced off the back of my head, landing on the desk. I uncrumpled it slowly, dreading what I might find.

New kid, it read in messy handwriting. Don't get too comfy, this is my turf. Signed, Dave.

I crumpled it back up, stuffing it in my pocket. Great, a bully on my first day. Some things never changed, no matter how many times we moved. As the morning dragged on, I could feel Dave's eyes on me, waiting for a chance to strike. By lunch, I just wanted the day to be over. But it was only just beginning.