It was the first day of the school year. September wind rustled Nathaniel Miller's shoulder-length black hair as he approached the beast that was Midtown. It was the beginning of the end, the end of an era. In June, he'd officially be free of the high school experience. His mother warned him he'd miss it, but he didn't think much of it.

Nathaniel looked down at the scrawled sharpie writing on the inside of his palm. His first semester was a lot of sciences and mathematics, as well as a dreaded gym class. As he was enormously tall, there was a common misconception that he was an athletic superstar. In reality, it was quite the opposite. He was lanky, awkward and had horrible hand-eye coordination. Besides his height, his grip strength was minimal.

Everyone in Midtown has returned in their new clothes. Designer shoes and jackets, new phones and backpacks. Nathaniel was a sore thumb in the crowd, wearing the same old outfit he always had. It was the result of a late night thrift store hunt with his uncle last year. They never really had any money on hand, and despite Nathaniel's intellect, he knew he'd never be able to go anywhere after high school. He'd work with his uncle in the construction yard.

Nathaniel's morning class was Chemistry. A personal favourite of his. Science didn't care that you were poor, or that your clothes had little holes. Or that you had the same backpack since eighth grade. Science was unbiased and full of fact, an instant recipe for Nathaniel's unbridled attention.

He made his way upstairs to the second floor, looking for the number. 204, 204 where could you be? He stared at his hand, then up at the doors, then down at his hand again. Walking forward, he ran into a solid object.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Nathaniel stumbled back, looking up at the figure he had collided with.

He was a man of about 30, with a 'modern' looking haircut, a long brown top and short sides. His ears were a chocolate colour, while his body was sturdy. He wore a turtleneck, with slacks and dress shoes. His eyes were adorned with a thick pair of glasses. A regular, hipster-esque Pointdexter

"No need to apologize. It's easy to get lost in here. I think I know my way around." He adjusted his glasses using his pointer finger and glanced at the numbers on Nathaniel's hand.

"Hmm, 204? That's my class."

He smiled at Nathaniel. "I'm Professor Parker, and I'm your teacher."

Nathaniel's mouth dropped. He always imagined his teacher would be some old guy who no hair, instead of this nerdy guy.

"I can show you where it is. I take it you're new here?"

He followed Professor Parker down the hallway, listening to him speak.

"No, actually." He coughed, "well, not really. I was here last year. I used to live in Chinatown until we moved here. I'm just forgetful."

Professor Parker smiled warmly, putting a hand on his shoulder with a reassuring grip.

"I used to live in Chinatown. Nice area...sometimes. Ah, here it is."

He motioned to the door of one of the labs. Filled were seats of students Nathaniel didn't recognize. They were all strangers, people he should've known, but would never be able to recall their names if someone asked.

"Hello everyone, sorry I'm late, but I was taking a stroll with um," he snapped his long fingers as a way of remembering, but couldn't get the thought to the tip of his tongue. "What's your name again?"

The class laughed pitifully. Nathaniel hung his head in embarrassment. "My name's Nathaniel. Uh, Nathaniel Miller."

Professor Parker nodded his head. "Hm, nice name. Anyway, sit down, and let's begin."

The class continued as usual, with an intro to chemical equations, as well as formulas and reactions. He handed out the syllabus, explained the units and assignments.

"Your first assignment is an 'All About Me'."

The class groaned a collective, painful gasp.

"I know, I know. You're frustrated. Just take it as an easy 10%. Write about yourself, your goals for your senior year. Two pages."

The bell rang, signaling the start of the next period. The rest of the class had left, and Nathaniel piled his binders and textbooks into his ratty, old' backpack.

"Miller. Hold on a second." He turned to see Professor Parker beckoning him to his desk. He had a blue pen, clicking it in his hand over and over. Parker motioned to Nathaniel's hand.

"Is that your bag?"

"Uh, yeah." He showed his teacher his bag, the straps were barely hanging on.

"Looks pretty old. Haven't you ever thought of investing in a new one?"

Nathaniel thought about it. He didn't really pay attention to his bag.

"No. Not really, it works fine I guess." He looked at it.

Professor Parker shook his head. He took out his bag, a new red and blue backpack, practically shining in the light from the window.

"Take it, Nathaniel. You need it more than I do." He gestured the bag Nathaniel's way.

Could Nathaniel reject a teacher? It seemed rude. Maybe he did need a new school bag. He reluctantly held his hand out, accepting it.

"This is nice and all, but don't get an idea that I'm some sort of, charity case or something, sir."

He laughed. "I never said you were, Nathaniel. Think of it as a gift, for a great start to a new school year."

Professor Parker's eyes shone with a kindness Nathaniel barely knew. He smiled back weakly.

"Thank you, Professor Parker."

"You're welcome, Nathaniel. And just so you know, it's Peter."