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A lanky ragamuffin awoke, shivering from the frosty morning air. Troy peered outside the brown cardboard box, glistening with ice crystals and moist from the morning dew. His elderly neighbors were still asleep underneath the bridge overpass. A frequent zoom echoed below as cars drove over the bridge overpass above. The only bright colors around Troy’s under-the-bridge neighborhood were the hieroglyphics and graffiti plastered on the cold, grey concrete walls and pillars.
Troy always woke up first in his neighborhood. Unlike his neighbors, he attended school—and performed incredibly well. He still pretended he lived his life from years earlier, before his mother absconded and the brutal police murdered his father. His classmates and teachers did not know where or how Troy lived. He told everybody that he lived with his cousin, existent to them but imaginary to him. He did not actually live with, nor have, this fictitious cousin. When teachers asked Troy for his address, he satisfied their pretended concern with 1492 Brown Street—an answer was all the questioners needed to quench their pseudo-concerns.
Provide them with a confident answer. People are fooled and contented with confidence, thought Troy.
Quickly packing up his backpack with the day’s outfit and books, Troy began walking his routine route to school at six fifteen in the morning. The orange-red sun glowed over the horizon and the singing birds accommodated a pleasant morning tune. Upon arrival twenty-five minutes later, he headed to the boys locker room to shower and brush his teeth, his only access to a clean, warm shower and running faucet.
By seven, Troy sat in the cafeteria and began his studies until his peers burst into the doorways and flooded the halls thirty minutes later. At seven thirty sharp, Troy packed up his belongings and slid into the chaotic buzz of students meeting and greeting one another amid slamming locker doors. A short, round boy approached Troy at his locker.
“What’s up, Troy!” exclaimed Tony with much enthusiasm.
“Oh, hey Tony,” replied Troy, annoyed.
“Are you ready for that chemistry exam today in Mr. Brown’s class?” asked Tony, his chubby red cheeks bouncing along with every syllable that flowed out of his mouth.
“Yes, Tony, I am ready. And I hope you are too, because I am making sure you cannot see my test from your seat,” replied Troy hotly.
“Aw man c’mon, Troy! I need your help!” he complained.
“I need you to study for yourself instead of eating and playing video games all the time!” snapped Troy.
“That’s not all I do. I do other things too!” grumbled Tony, trying to persuade himself.
“Yeah, okay Tony. When you can study all by yourself, I will attempt to help you out. But I’m not going to help somebody who doesn’t first help themselves,” explained Troy.
“Whatever, man. You don’t know what I go through every day,” replied Tony with a spiteful look.
Troy could not help himself. Perspiration beaded along his hairline, palms sweating and steam blowing out his ears. He tried with all his might to hold himself back. He wanted to land his bony knuckles right across Tony’s fat chin.
How dare he say that! thought Troy. This ungrateful scum sleeps in a warm bed every night, wakes up and goes to bed with a full stomach, and wastes his life away with television and video games with the majority of his free time. And he tells me that I don’t know what he goes through! Of course I don’t! That’s the life of a king! I wish he knew what I go through every day, sleeping in a piece of crap cardboard box and living underneath a bridge surrounded by bums!
Troy clenched his fists so tightly his veins were popping out of his arms and his bottom teeth formed an under bite.
How dare he say that! How dare he say that! screamed Troy silently in his mind as he ground his teeth together.
He whipped his lanky body around, ready to swing at Tony’s fat face with all his anger. As he turned around he saw Tony’s large, bouncing behind waddling away in disgust. He so badly wanted to punish that ungrateful, spoiled-rotten brat. But Troy, realizing the situation, forced himself to cool down.
If I get myself into any trouble, he thought, I gamble that I could get caught being a homeless kid, and could be sent to an orphanage. Calm down, calm down.
Troy inhaled long and loud through his nose, exhaling with controlled breaths out through his mouth. After a half-minute, Troy regained control over his emotions and marched down the hallway to his first period class, looking straight ahead.
“Hey Kelli,” greeted Troy to his crush, taking a seat at his desk. “How’s it going?”
“Hi Troy,” she replied with excitement. She was friendly, yet curiously polite. “I’m doing pretty well, how did you do on your exam last week?”
“He graded those already?” asked Troy, surprised.
“Yep! I got a ninety-six! All that studying is paying off!” she bragged with a playful laugh.
“Nice work, Kelli. I’m gonna go show you much I learned,” stated Troy as he hustled over to the teacher’s desk.
“Mr. Downs, may I please see my exam from last week?” he asked politely.
“Troy! Of course!” he replied.
Mr. Downs, a heavyset, bald, jovial fellow in his middle-aged years shuffled through the stack of student exams. Upon finding Troy’s exam, he returned it back to Troy with a smile of satisfaction.
“Well done, Troy. Keep up the good work, I’m proud of you,” he smiled.
“Thank you, Mr. Downs, I’ll keep focused,” replied Troy.
“I know you will, I have no doubt in my mind you’ll make a fine CEO or doctor one day,” he complimented.
“I sure hope so! I’d like that!” exclaimed Troy with pride as he walked back to his seat.
“So, how’d you do? What’d you get?” asked Kelli, suspiciously.
“Ninety-eight, baby!” he bragged, fist-pumping his elbow to his waist.
“Dang it, Troy!” she laughed, “One of these days, I’ll beat you. I will.”
“Well, it’ll happen eventually, you’re always pretty close but never get the cigar!” responded Troy with a titter.
The two laughed it off together. Each was proud of their work. Mr. Downs ascended from his desk chair and walked to the front of the room.
“Alright, class!” he shouted over the chatter. “So, you’ve all received your tests, right? Alright, good. Let’s begin today’s lesson now.”
Troy sat in his seat with perfect posture and listened, but his mind drifted off.
He thought about Mr. Downs’s praise, Could I really become a CEO of a major business? Oh, the prestige and wealth that would come with that powerful position! My father would be so proud of me if he were still here! That’s what I want to do, to make my father proud. I will strive to become what he always encouraged me to become. I will never need to attend those rallies; I will get out of the slums and work my way up the money ladder!
RINGGGGGGGGG!
The class bell interrupted Troy’s daydream.
He gathered his belongings slowly and strolled behind his scurrying classmates out of the class. After stopping at his locker again, he headed to the bathroom. Troy heard sniffles coming from the large handicap stall. It sounded like crying, or a bloody nose. He pushed at the door. It was locked. It didn’t budge.
“Are you alright in there?” asked Troy, concerned.
“Yeah, we’re fine,” replied a sharp voice.
“How many of you are in there?” asked Troy, now more curious than concerned.
“Just the two of us. I’m helping my friend. Leave us alone,” said the annoyed voice.
Curious, Troy peaked through the small gap in between the door and stall where the hinges were. It was two older boys, carefully and meticulously scraping at something into thin lines on top of a large textbook.
“What are you guys doing?” asked Troy with one eye closed.
“Beat it, kid!” yelled the voice, growing with anger.
“I just want to know what you guys are doing in there. I find it odd there are two of you in the same bathroom stall together. Should I ask you your sexual orientation? I don’t care either way,” said Troy, sarcastically.
“Listen, kid. If you don’t shut your trap and get out of here, we’re gonna kick the crap out of you right here and now!” hissed the angered voice in a raspy, whispering yell.
“Go ahead. Kick my butt for asking why there are two boys locked in a bathroom stall together,” snided Troy in defense.
The bathroom stall door swung open, and a much larger kid grabbed Troy by the shirt collar and pulled him into the stall. The door slammed shut behind him. The other kid, much smaller in size, latched the door shut behind them.
“I told you to shut the heck up, didn’t I?” said the large kid in a hardened voice, squeezing Troy’s shirt collar even tighter.
Troy looked at him in the eye, then at the other kid. Troy looked over at the textbook balanced on top of the toilet seat. Four white streaks of powder were carefully divided into neat lines, like a farmer’s crop of corn. The smaller kid took a small rolled up piece of paper and bent over, situating its nozzle at the beginning of one of the streaks of white powder. He sniffed with what seemed every ounce of power he had in his body, making a rather loud sniffing sound that echoed throughout the entire bathroom.
“What was that?” asked Troy, growing fearful.
The smaller kid turned around and wiped his nose with his wrist. He sniffed quickly and repeatedly, much quieter than the first large, loud sniff.
“None of your darn business, kid,” he said, leaning towards Troy and his larger friend, still with a firm grip of his shirt collar.
“Who do you think you are, coming in here and asking us questions? You trying to start some trouble?” he said, moving his face closer to Troy.
“No, no. Not at all. It seems you two are into some trouble though. I’m not stupid. I know what that is. It seems you two are the stupid ones for doing that, let alone in a school bathroom,” said Troy sarcastically, forgetting he was still clutched by the collar.
Troy was still pressed against the bathroom door by the larger kid’s extended arm. The smaller kid wound up and delivered a blow to Troy’s ribcage.
“Ugh!” yelped Troy, pulling up his feet in cringing pain.
“Now, ask me again what we’re doing,” dared the smaller kid.
Troy cringed his face in pain.
“I know what you’re doing. I said I’m not stupid. You guys are the stupid ones for doing that in the first place. You think that makes you smarter or something?” he pleaded.
The larger kid pulled Troy in towards him and slammed his head down on the toilet seat. The smaller kid bent down towards Troy’s compressed face, smashed down by the larger kid’s large hand.
“Now, smarty, sniff this line or we’ll both kick the crap out of you right here and now. And don’t think to yell for help. The janitor gets this crap from us, so she’ll side with us if you try to tattle,” he snarled through his clenched teeth.
Troy’s face was being smashed onto the toilet seat. Blood dripped from his nose and face. He didn’t know from where exactly, but his whole face hurt and throbbed together in agonizing pulses.
“I won’t do anything you guys say!” he shouted in a panic.
Troy kicked and screamed. The larger kid wrapped his large hand around Troy’s face and mouth, muting his screams for help.
The smaller kid’s face was now only an inch from Troy.
“Listen, punk. Either sniff this line, or we’ll bash your head into this seat until you freakin’ die. Understood?” he said.
Troy moved his head slightly, as if he tried to nod in compliance. The larger kid lifted up Troy’s face off the seat by pulling his hair. The smaller kid situated the paper roll into Troy’s nose.
“Now, snort this snow. You’ll feel all better in no time, I promise,” he said with a devilish grin.
Troy breathed heavily through his mouth, down and away from the three remaining lines on top of the textbook.
“Do it! Now!” demanded the larger kid now holding Troy by the hair.
“Okay!” whimpered Troy. He took three short breaths, trying to control his panic.
He thrust his hands from the bathroom floor to launch the textbook from the seat, sending the book into the air. The three streaks of cocaine flew up into white dust clouds, vanishing into the air while the book crashed onto the floor beside the toilet.
Stunned, the two kids looked at each other.
“What the-!” yelled the smaller one before stomping on Troy’s head with his boot.
The two kids began kicking and stomping Troy to the ground. Troy refused to take the beating without attempting to get up, leaving his face and ribs open for powerful stomps as his arms unsuccessfully posted his hands on the ground to push himself up, only to be beaten down again.
After one minute, the two kids ceased the kicking and beating. Breathing heavily, the two kids walked out of the stall and out of the bathroom.
“He’ll pay us back for that,” said the smaller kid as stall door swung shut with a bang.
Troy still lie on the ground writhing in pain.