It was only nine in the morning, and Michael was already over it.

Same classmates. Same drama. Same teachers.

Same everything.

There were a few things that he was looking forward to, though. This was his last year at P.S./I.S. 905, and he was ecstatic about leaving. He wasn't what you would call a 'people person', and his classmates had taken notice and alienated him for it. The bullying wasn't severe in any case, just a lot of idiots calling him names and excluding him from mostly everything. He didn't mind, though. He enjoyed the peace and quiet, it allowed him to focus more on his work. There were a few people that didn't follow the 'Michael is weird' train, and instead, they encouraged his work and hung out with him during school. One of these people was a girl named Hazel. Michael wasn't too keen on her attitude most of the time, but she was fun to have around. Plus, she was fiercely intelligent, and she let everyone know. She got the highest scores on every test, every project, and she always placed first at the school science fair.

Always.

Hazel had gotten the gold for two years in a row, and she was eager to start working on her third. Michael was close to her at that point, but he had to admit, he was more than a little jealous. He worked his ass off for both years on his projects, and he couldn't even place in either of them. Science was his favorite subject, he knew it like the back of his hand. But, he always seemed to rub his teachers and classmates in the wrong way. Parent-teacher conferences were always interesting.

"Well, your son is one of our highest performing students, but he-"

"He always talks back to me during class…"

"Doesn't work well with his classmates…"

"Lack of enthusiasm."

"Can't seem to work well in a group!"

Michael had heard all of it before, and quite frankly, he didn't really care. He hated working in groups, because he ended up having to do most of the work, while everyone took credit for it. The only reason he didn't have straight A's was his lack of participation in class. He just wanted to show up, do things on his own, then leave. But, no. He had to socialize.

Hazel was what you would call a 'teacher's pet', and she was able to make friends with just about everyone. She was a master manipulator, and she wasn't against using that to her advantage to get what she wanted. Thankfully, she wasn't a malicious person, so she usually sweet-talked a teacher into a higher final grade or an extension on a project. This sweet-talking was taking place during Mr. Toreen's class, with Hazel sitting right in the middle of the front row as usual, constantly raising her hand and asking the teacher how his summer went. Mr. Toreen fell for her ploy, and wasted most of the period talking about his trip to the Grand Canyon. Michael sat next to one of the windows, watching the blue sky slowly begin to turn murky and gray, and he pulled out his phone to entertain himself. Unfortunately, Mr. Toreen's classroom didn't have very good service, so Michael was only able to call or text. Knowing he wouldn't be able to get away with making a phone call, he texted Luke instead.

I'm bored.

Hazel raised her hand again and asked how Mr. Toreen's wife was doing. A chorus of snickering came from the class, and the teacher went on to tell another story when Michael felt his pocket vibrate. He pulled out his phone to read;

You're supposed to be in class.

Michael bit his lip and replied,

I've had Mr. Toreen before, he's an idiot who doesn't know how to teach.

Always one to check up on him, Hazel turned to smile at Michael, saw his phone on his lap, and glared disapprovingly. Seeing where her eyes were, Michael popped his middle finger in front of his phone. Hazel huffed and turned back to face front. His phone vibrated again, this time reading,

Get off your phone, idiot. You really want Dad or Papa coming to pick up your phone on your first day?

It was Michael's turn to huff as he shoved his phone back in his pocket. He already had enough history of talking back to Mr. Toreen, he didn't need to get in trouble on his first day back. Michael glanced at the clock, and saw that Hazel had successfully managed to stall Mr. Toreen enough to pass the whole forty-five minutes. Right as the teacher began to speak,

"Okay, that's enough sharing about summer break, now, as I was saying…"

Mr. Toreen was interrupted by the ringing of the bell, and everyone in Michael's class raced out of the room to go to lunch, except for a remaining few stragglers, including Michael and Hazel. The teacher sighed and went to his desk, grabbing a stack of papers and offering them to the few students.

"Here. Now you're all more prepared than the rest of the class." Looking more than a little dead inside, Mr. Toreen went to sit at his desk, while Michael and Hazel headed towards the lunchroom with their papers. As soon as they were out of earshot, Michael asked,

"Hey, any reason why you cost everyone a day of work?"

"This way, we have a leg up on our classmates for the rest of the year. Always stay one step ahead!"

Michael stared at her, perplexed. "So, you completely screwed over our whole class to service your ego?"

"I got you ahead, too, right?"

"Y'know what, I've given up trying to understand that sweet, demented brain of yours. It's a mystery to me."

Hazel giggled, readjusting her book bag. "You never want anyone to know what you're going to do next, that's what keeps you on top."

"Jesus Christ, why do you sound like something out of Game of Thrones?" Michael stopped them right in front of the staircase and dropped his book bag to put his paper inside. Hazel kept nudging his side with her foot.

"When you think about it, middle school is kinda like Westeros!"

Michael raised his head in a questioning look. "How high are you?"

Hazel kicked him harder, and continued, "You know, the backstabbing, the lying, the secret alliances…"

"Now if only we could have murder and dragons, then middle school would actually be interesting!" Michael rose from his crouched position and threw his backpack over his shoulders, nudging Hazel with his shoulder, towards the staircase. "Now, c'mon, I'm starving."

Hazel suddenly laughed, the noise echoing throughout the staircases. "I can think of a few people that deserve to be roasted by a dragon…"

"Hazel!"

"What? I'm just saying…"

They continued to joke as they reached the cafeteria, the roar of the entire eighth grade escaping the doors. The lunchroom was massive, with normal lunch tables in the center, and booths on the sides. Michael and Hazel managed to snag a booth near a set of doors, and after setting their things down, went to join the line for lunch. The food that their school offered wasn't ideal, but hey, it was food. After they had gotten what they wanted, they headed back to their booth, and saw another student sitting there. The boy waved and gestured for them to sit. His name was Peter, and he was one of the smallest students in their class. Most of the girls were taller than him at that point, and Peter was bullied more than Hazel and Michael combined, so they decided to turn their duo into a trio and take him under their wing. For how small he was, Peter was comically violent and serious, and was always complaining about something. Today, it was about the food.

"This shit is so fucking disgusting, how are they legally allowed to serve us this?" Peter was also famous for swearing like a sailor, which frequently got him in trouble. The cursing was made even funnier when said by Peter's squeaky voice. It sounded like Mickey Mouse just stubbed his toe on something.

Hazel scoffed. "First of all, language. And second of all, you're lucky you're getting food at all, there are millions of people that are starving right now. I bet they would appreciate your food."

"Good, because I don't want it."

Michael tried to reason with Peter. "It's not bad. It's not gourmet or anything, but it's okay."

"Keep telling yourself that, idiot." Peter said, pushing his glasses up his short nose.

Hazel, in between bites, changed the conversation. "So, what are you guys thinking of doing for the science fair this year?"

"Oh no, not this again." Peter's eye-roll was visible through his thick, shaggy blond hair. Hazel pursed her lips. She wasn't the best at controlling her face when she was mad. Michael and Peter loved to tease her for it, saying she looked like an angry chipmunk, which made her even more mad. Peter continued, "I'm probably just gonna buy a loaf of bread and watch it get moldy. Then I'll explain how it got moldy."

"That doesn't sound very inspired." said Hazel.

Peter responded, with his mouth full, "Well, the beautiful thing about that is, I don't give a fuck."

Hazel said, once again, "Language!" She then turned to Michael. "So, what about you, Einstein?"

"There is no way in hell that I'm telling you anything."

"You sure?"

"Positive. I don't want you knowing my experiment ahead of time so you can out-do me."

Peter interjected, swinging his spork at both Michael and Hazel across from him. "So, what you're saying is that you don't know what to do yet."

"I have a few ideas in mind. But nothing concrete, as of now."

"Yeah, he's got nothing." Peter went back to his food.

After a few minutes talking about plans for the future and what classes they all had, Michael suddenly had an idea. He turned to Hazel.

"So your project, it's gonna blow everyone out of the water, right?"

"You better believe it!"

Michael smirked. "So, your mom's an astrophysicist, right?"

Hazel stopped eating and looked up cautiously. "Yeah…"

Michael shrugged, and continued, "I'm just saying, how amazed and proud she would be if her daughter won gold for a space project. She'd be over the moon!"

Hazel froze, then said, "I need to use the bathroom, excuse me." She then proceeded to not so slyly take her notebook with her. Once she had left, Pater reached across the table and pushed Michael hard enough to make him hit the back of the booth.

"Ow!"

"Dude, are you fucking insane? Space is one of her best subjects, and you just gave that idea to her on a silver platter!"

"Pete, everyone's doing space this year, she's gonna have to try real hard to stand out."

Peter looked at him skeptically. "I still think you just sabotaged yourself."

"You'll see, that was the smartest thing I've done since I got here."

The rest of the day went by uneventfully, just a lot of dull noise. However, gym class was another hell entirely. Michael wasn't necessarily athletic, but even he could do better than Hazel and Peter. Gym was the only class that Hazel couldn't charm her way through, so she made up for this by being absolutely ferocious. Peter was ferocious anyways, so he just followed Hazel's lead. They separated to go and change in their respective locker rooms, and Michael prepared himself for the smell of Axe and premature testosterone. Peter hid behind him easily, but once they were fully inside, among the laughing and banter of the boys already present, Michael heard one of them call out, "Hey, Petey! You look lost. The girl's locker room is that way!"

Michael rolled his eyes and grabbed Peter, walking faster while all the boys began to jeer at them. Peter, never one to back down from a fight, retorted, "Hey, you look lost, too! I think there's a prison a few miles from here!"

"Peter, stop, you're gonna piss them off even more."

The boy, who Michael now recognized as Stan from 8RF, laughed. "Look, guys, he's talking with the balls he doesn't have!" The locker room once again erupted in laughter. Michael grabbed Peter by his collar and dragged him to a stall where he could safely change. And, of course, Stan and his friends followed, getting uncomfortably close to Michael.

"Can I help you?" asked Michael, crossing his arms.

"You're not much better than him, you know." Stan jeered.

Michael sucked his teeth. "So, are you going to tell me something I don't know, or are you just gonna keep on being stupid?"

"Watch your mouth, retard."

"That's not a nice thing to say to anyone, but then again, you're a shitty human being, so I'm not surprised." Michael raised his eyebrows.

Stan growled, getting even closer. His breath reeked, and Michael turned away to save his nose from the torture. Michael flinched from the sudden noise as Stan yelled in his ear, "That's a lot of backtalk from someone who could have no teeth in a minute."

"You really want to get suspended on the first day of school? Be my guest."

One of the boys behind Stan tapped Stan on the shoulder. "Dude, Coach Retner just called all of us out to the gym."

It had been so loud in the boys locker room that they hadn't heard their gym teacher blowing the whistle for their attendance. They all rushed out, leaving Michael and Peter alone. Peter slowly opened the door, poking his head out. "They're gone, right?"

"Yeah, man, you're good."

Once Peter had calmed down, he returned to normal. "Fucking assholes."

"Hey, stop that! You're already a target to them as it is, stop provoking them!" They both headed out to the gym, where mostly everyone was sitting in the lines that the coach had given to them. Knowing full well the dynamics of her students at this point, Coach Retner put Hazel, Michael, and Peter close to each other, and kept all of the trouble students far away from their usual victims. After taking attendance, their coach had them run laps.

Lots of laps.

Wanting to make sure Hazel and Peter were okay, Michael purposefully ran slower and stuck with them. The coach had put on music to make their experience a bit easier, but it didn't help once Michael's heartbeat got louder than the speakers. Thankfully, students were allowed to rest once they felt seriously out of breath. The three of them stopped by Coach Retner to drink from the water fountain, and on their way back, she stopped them.

"Hey, we're going to do some independent activities in a few minutes, would you guys go and get some things for me from the gym closet? Here. I'll make a list."

Thankful to not be running anymore, Michael, Hazel, and Peter took the list and ventured on their fetch mission. However, as soon as they got into the closet, they heard a voice from behind them.

"Hey, maybe they're gonna take turns with her!" Immediately after, the door slammed shut, engulfing the three in darkness. Michael ran to the door and slammed into it, and desperately tried turning the handle, but it was no use. The door locked by itself whenever it was closed, and the knob wasn't budging.

"Help!"

"We're locked in here!"

"Somebody fucking help us!"

Calling for help was no use, either, as the speakers were still blasting music loud enough to drown out their voices. Michael found something to stabilize himself and leaned heavily on it, breathing deeply. As Hazel and Peter continued to cry for help, Michael slowly sank to the floor, feeling his chest become tight and his breath become shorter and shorter. Sweat rose on his skin and he began to cough and choke.

"Mommy, let me out, please!"

No answer. The four year old Michael stopped crying as he heard footsteps coming closer and closer to the closet where he was. He heard his mother say,

"Are you going to be a good boy?"

"Yes, Mommy." Michael stammered between tears.

Once again, no answer. Then, "Good little boys don't cry like little girls." His mother then walked away, leaving him alone again.

"MOMMY!"

"Michael, are you okay?!"

Hazel's voice stunned Michael back to present day, and Peter was still banging on the door and shouting profanities, while Hazel helped Michael up, rubbing his back.

"It's okay, breathe. That's it, in and out." As Michael struggled to calm down, the music outside stopped, and Peter began to scream even louder.

"WE'RE STUCK IN HERE, SOMEONE LET US THE FUCK OUT!"

With that, they could hear the voice of Coach Retner, calling out. "Oh my goodness!" The door swung open to reveal their teacher, along with the entirety of their class, laughing wildly.

"Are you okay? Are any of you hurt? What happened?!"

Peter was the first to speak. "That cunt locked us in here!" He pointed at Stan while the class gasped, along with Coach Retner. She exclaimed,

"Peter! That is highly inappropriate, detention!"

"Yeah, Pete, children shouldn't use those kinds of words." Stan smirked, but his smile quickly melted off as Coach Retner continued, "You're not off the hook, either, Mr. Greene! I'll be expecting to see you after class!" The coach turned her attention back to the trio, while the class devolved back into talking. Coach Retner gestured for the three of them to follow her into her office. Once inside, she said,

"Are you alright?"

Hazel answered. "Peter and I are fine, but Michael freaked out. He sounded like he couldn't breathe."

"Thank you, Hazel. You and Peter can leave now, I'd like to speak with Michael alone."

The pair left, leaving just Michael and Coach Retner. She gazed at him, concerned. "Are you going to be alright? You looked pretty shaken up back there."

Michael was quick to dismiss her, saying, "I'll be okay, I'm just a bit claustrophobic. It's no big deal."

"Do you want to call your parents?"

Michael suddenly felt his breath get shallow again. "I'd really rather not."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely positive."

Before his teacher could continue, the last bell of the day blared, and Michael used this as an escape, exclaiming, "See you tomorrow!"

Michael bolted out of Coach Retner's office and into the boy's locker room, grabbing both his and Peter's things. As he sped towards the exit, he threw Peter's things at him and yelled, "Don't go back in there, you'll get killed!"

Michael ran past all the classrooms and finally made it to the boy's bathroom, which was noticeably quieter than the gym. Knowing that he could change and leave unbothered gave Michael some peace of mind. Once he had changed back into his regular clothes, he splashed cold water on his face, and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like death, with sunken eyes and pale skin. He slapped himself a few times to get the blood pumping, then continued on his way out of the building. To his dismay, as he approached the glass doors of his school, he saw that it was still pouring rain outside. He grumbled, putting his book bag down and fishing for his umbrella. Once he found it, he went outside, opened it, and finally started to go home.

Thunder roared over Michael's head as he began his twenty-block journey, with an occasional bolt of lighting illuminating the green sky. He had to do some long jumps over puddles for every few blocks, and about halfway home, Michael was regretting not taking the subway. Still, he pressed on home, and he soon reached his building and went inside, and the sound of rain became muffled and far away. He continued on to his apartment, praying that no one was home yet so he could relax. He finally reached the third floor, and entered his apartment.

He called out, and received no answer.

Sweet silence.