The walk to Silver High was quiet except for their shoes on cracked concrete. Morning air sat heavy, like the city hadn't exhaled yet. Somewhere two blocks over, a siren started and died.
Adrian broke the silence first. Click. He popped the lollipop out of his mouth and looked at Mark sideways, grin already there.
"So, new guy… where you from, and what brings you to Brookhaven?"
He walked like the street owed him rent. Shoulders loose, hands in his pockets, every step unhurried. Payal stayed half a step behind him, eyes on him like the rest of the world was on mute.
Mark kept his pace even. "Mark Wilson. Family moved here a few days ago. Enrolling today."
Adrian nodded, lollipop back in. "Ah. I see…" Voice muffled. Then he stopped walking. Full stop. Lollipop shifted to the other side of his mouth.
"One last question for you, Mark. You strong?"
Mark blinked. "What do you mean?"
Adrian's smirk got sharper. He turned, swept his arm at the walls around them — BLUE tags fresh enough that the paint still smelled, a window with a spiderweb crack, a siren starting up again in the distance.
"C'mon. You know what I mean. You saw what happened with Payal." His eyes did a slow trip from Mark's shoes to his face. "This isn't some fairy tale suburb. Out here, only the strong survive. And I can already tell…"
Beat.
"You don't know jack about fighting."
Mark didn't flinch. Didn't answer either. His jaw tightened half an inch. That was it.
Adrian shrugged, grin back to easy. "But hey. You're in luck. I like you. So if anyone gives you trouble, just say my name. Adrian's got your back." Lollipop dancing between his teeth when he talked.
The message landed heavier than the words.
They started walking again. Mark filed it away: _Adrian's protection isn't charity. It's a flag. Plant it, and everyone sees who you belong to._
"Looks like we're here," Adrian said.
Silver High rose in front of them. Tall. Tired. Brick that had seen better decades. Windows that were clean but had cracks you only noticed if you looked. The kind of building that was beautiful the way a scar is — because it survived something.
"Welcome to Silver High, Mark."
Payal finally spoke. "You're enrolling today, right? Reception's to the left."
"Thanks," Mark said.
Adrian winked, already turning. "Hope we see each other again, new guy."
Then they were gone, swallowed by the crowd of white blazers. Mark stood alone on the front steps with the whole school breathing around him.
---
Inside was different.
The air was cooler. Floors polished enough to see the lights reflected. Lockers ran floor to ceiling, silver, dentless. Somewhere down the hall, sneakers squeaked. A bell rang, distant. For a second it felt like TV — like the high schools he'd seen in movies back in Zim.
Classrooms he passed had kids taking notes. Teachers talking. Normal.
Then he turned a corner and normal ended.
Six guys. Maybe seven. Tattoos up their necks. Piercings. One of them smoking inside like rules were a rumor. They all stopped talking when Mark stepped into the hall.
The tall one moved first. Cut Mark off, stepped into his space. Smoke blew straight into Mark's face.
"Well, well, well… what do we have here? A new student?"
Mark coughed once, waved the smoke away with his hand. Didn't step back.
The guy leaned in, smile wrong. "What's your name, scrawny boy?"
Mark's throat went tight. He kept his voice level. "Please. I don't want trouble. Just let me pass."
The guy chuckled. "Or else what, huh?"
Before Mark had to find out, a hand grabbed the tall one's sleeve. One of his own. Whispering, fast:
"Hey, John… might not be a good idea to mess with that kid."
John's head snapped. "Why not? He doesn't look strong."
"Maybe not," the guy said, eyes flicking past Mark, checking the hall. "But word is… he's close with Adrian."
The change was instant. John's smile froze, then cracked, then slid off his face. His posture went stiff like someone had poured ice water down his back.
"Tch… I see." He stepped aside, made a big show of it. Forced smile back on. "Run along now, boy. Don't wanna be late."
Mark nodded once. Didn't say thank you. Just walked.
Every step down that hall, he felt eyes. Whispers started behind him. Nobody followed. Nobody got in his way.
For the first time since the plane landed, his shoulders dropped half an inch.
It wasn't him. It was a name. And in Brookhaven, Adrian's name hit harder than fists.
---
The office took twenty minutes to find.
"Okay… this it, I guess," Mark muttered, and knocked.
"Come in," a voice called. Calm. English.
He opened the door and stopped. The room didn't match the school. Dark wood. Bookshelves. No posters, no noise. A window let in clean light. Everything was placed like it would be offended if you moved it.
Behind the desk: a man, forties, black suit, no wrinkles. Hair cut sharp. Hands folded. He looked up and smiled, but it didn't touch his eyes.
"Good morning. You must be Mark Wilson. I spoke to your mother yesterday about your enrollment."
The accent was British. Precise.
"Yes, sir. I'd like to enroll today if possible," Mark said, setting the envelope of tuition on the desk.
"Jolly good." The man took it without counting. Slid a folded uniform across the desk. "Here you are. Don't worry — your measurements were well accounted for."
Mark blinked. "How—"
"Your mother is thorough," the man said, already back to his papers. "Oh. One more thing."
Mark paused at the door.
"You're assigned to Class 1A. Male bathroom is to the left of the corridor you came from."
Mark nodded and left.
---
The bathroom mirror was cleaner than his house.
He changed. White long-sleeve dress shirt. Black tie, mostly hidden under the white sweater. Blazer with silver lines on the forearms. Black circle with a silver crescent moon on the chest pocket. Black trousers. Same Balenciagas from home.
He looked… different. Scrawny still. But the uniform did something. Stood him up straighter. Soft sharp features, dark circles, hair neat. He didn't look strong. He looked like someone you shouldn't underestimate.
Back in the halls, the size of Silver High started to hit him. Three floors. Wings. Staircases that all looked the same. Ten minutes of walking and he was pretty sure he'd passed the same trophy case twice.
"Hey there."
He turned. Girl his age. Long orange hair, freckles, glasses sliding down her nose. She pushed them up with one finger.
"Oh… hey," Mark said.
"You look lost," she said, smiling. "First day?"
"Yeah."
"I get it. I cried on my first day," she admitted, then laughed at herself. "Where are you headed?"
"Class 1A."
Her face lit up. "Oh! That's next to mine. Come on. I'll walk you."
She talked as they walked. Name. Where she was from. Asking if he liked the city. If he had siblings. Mark answered with nods and short sentences. She didn't seem to mind.
Ten minutes later: _1A_ on a placard. _1B_ right next to it.
"Looks like you made it," she said. "And this one's mine." She pointed at 1B.
Mark realized he never asked. "Your name?"
"Bianca," she said, and her voice went a little shaky, like she was embarrassed it mattered.
"Thanks, Bianca," he said. Small smile.
She blushed. "You're welcome."
He lifted a hand, half-wave, and faced the door to 1A. The comfort she gave him lasted maybe three seconds.
---
Knock.
The door opened. Teacher, mid-forties, marker in hand. Class mid-lesson. Thirty heads turned.
"Ah, you must be Mark. Come in," the teacher said, stepping aside.
"Class, we have a new transfer student." He gestured. "Introduce yourself."
Mark walked to the front. Scanned the room. Curiosity. Whispers. Then back corner.
Adrian.
Surrounded by girls. Lollipop stick between his teeth. Cocky grin the second their eyes met. Like he'd been waiting for this.
Mark kept his face blank.
"Hello. My name is Mark Wilson. I look forward to working with you all."
"Alright, Mark, empty desk next to Mister Reed," the teacher said, pointing.
The walk to the back was long. Whispers followed him.
"Whoa, he's tall…"
"He looks serious…"
"Not bad-looking though…"
"Tch, another pretty boy…" — that one from a guy by the window, arms crossed.
Mark sat. Said nothing.
Adrian leaned over, two girls still on his arms glaring at each other over his chest. "Hey Mark. Didn't think we'd meet again this soon."
"Neither did I," Mark said, unpacking his bag. "But here we are."
Adrian's grin didn't move. "So let's make the most of it, yeah?"
The room felt it. That quiet shift when two magnets get close. Whispers doubled.
"Wait, they know each other?"
"Mark doesn't look fazed at all… is he cool with Adrian?"
"This year's about to get interesting…"
The teacher cleared his throat. "Right. You — please remain silent. We are in the middle of a lesson."
"Okay, sir," Adrian said, still smirking.
Mark nodded once.
The lesson started again. Mark took notes. Neat. Precise. Adrian put his head down and was asleep in under a minute.
---