When Psychology class came around, Oliver felt more than a bit of competition with Alyce.

To his surprise, she was good. She was too good, actually.

She was able to answer all of the teacher's questions. As was he! He answered quite a few questions, in fact.

She knew far too much about Sigmund Freud and the Oedipus Complex.

But he also knew much about Harlow's Experiments, able to provide ample detail on his 'Pit of Despair'.

Whenever Alyce would answer a question correctly, she would look at him and smile smugly.

Brat.

He effectively showed her up by thoroughly explaining to the teacher all that he knew on 'The Monster Study' and its information on stuttering.

She shot back quickly with the Capgras Delusion.

They both went back and forth until the bell rang. The teacher look extremely flustered by all they knew.

Oliver shot a glare towards Alyce for getting the last word in before the bell rang. She smirked at him. He wanted to take that smirk off of her mouth. In any means possible.

Oliver went to Sociology and Alyce went to a Greek Mythology class, leaving him to think about Alyce. And vice versa.


They saw each other again in Biology. They sat together again as neither one of them had anyone to sit with.

Both were extremely bored in the class, either because of the simple subject matter, or the teacher's droning, monotonous voice.

Alyce stole a glance or two at Oliver when he wasn't paying attention, and he stared at her when she was looking away from him. They both sat in awkward silence, looking at one another when they were sure they wouldn't be found out.

Finally, the bell rang. Oliver nearly sprinted out of the classroom. It would take a long time to walk home, and he had chores and homework to do.

He decided to cut through the woods and stop by his childhood tree. He used to climb it all the time when he was younger.

Oliver took off his thick glasses and cleaned them on his shirt.

He resumed walking, and just when he got back onto the road to take a shortcut, it began to thunder and rain.

Fucking perfect.

The rain started out gentle, but soon, it was coming down hard. Oliver readjusted his messenger bag and ducked his head before braving the storm.

Cars were going by with his classmates driving.

Lucky bastards.

Not one of them offered to let him out of the rain.

He wished it didn't take so long to walk home. It had been about 20 minutes of him walking, and it would be about half an hour before he got home. He sighed and shook some of the water out of his hair, although it did no good.

A Chevrolet rolled past him before backing up to stroll along next to him.

Great. Now I get to be made fun of outside of school, Oliver thought, bitterly.

"Hey! Do you need a ride?"

He squinted at the unknown driver. It looked like Alyce!

He nodded and the car stopped for him to climb in. He put his bag on the ground and slid into the car.

Alyce turned on the heat.

"Where do you live?" She asked."

"1800 Forrest Avenue," he answered. He inwardly swore at himself. Now she was going to see the terrible house he grew up in.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

They finally arrived at his house and his cheeks were burning with embarrassment. He lived in a one-story pig-sty with greedy foster parents and an abusive foster brother.

"I'll walk you up," Alyce said, opening her door. Oliver's mind raced. He didn't want to be rude to her, but he also didn't want her to see the deplorable state his home was in.

She walked around to his side and walked to the front door with him. When he approached the front steps, the door swung open, startling Alyce. It was his foster brother; he was drunk, as usual.

"Hey, bastard, you finally home? Do you got a girlfriend? What's the broad's name? Is she a good lay?" he slurred, the stench of whiskey permeating his person.

"I would appreciate it if you wouldn't use such language in front of a woman," he retorted, his nose wrinkling at the pig in front of him. Alyce seemed a bit scared, or shocked; maybe both.

"I would appreciate it if you would shut the fuck up," his foster brother, Phil spat. Oliver and Alyce watched as Phil stumbled to the couch and passed out on it.

Oliver didn't know what to say to Alyce. He wasn't sure if she would even want to speak to him again. Surely, she would go to school and tell everyone of the disgusting state his family life was in.

He turned to face her. She seemed shocked, her eyes wide, brows crinkled.

"I-" Oliver tried to say something, but she cut him off.

"Do you like staying here?" she asked, an eyebrow raised. Her question caught him off guard.

"N-no, not exactly," he responded.

"Do your parents hurt you?" She asked. He blinked in surprise. What was with all the questions?

"Um, s-sometimes, but not too badly," he stuttered. She nodded, almost understandingly.

"Do you want to stay at my house? We have enough room, and I'm sure my daddy won't mind," she offered. He felt shocked. He just met this girl today, and already she was offering him a place to stay? Was there something wrong with her?

"I, uh, don't think your parents will want me at your house, especially not your father," he explained. She seemed almost insulted.

"He won't have a problem with it! And if he does, he can deal with it."

"I don't think my parents would like that," he told her.

"How old are you?" she asked.

"Seventeen," he responded. One more year and I'm finally out of the System.

"Oh. I'm sure since you're almost of age, they wouldn't mind," she said. He shrugged. They didn't give two shits about him anyways, so why would they care if he stayed with someone?

"I'll just leave a note telling them where I'll be. They probably won't care, though."

He seemed to have a friend.

He seemed to have someone who actually cares about him.

It felt nice.