The first day of school was when I first saw him. His hair was bleached blond. His own black roots were coming in. He had grey eyes. He was handsome, in that kind of way that people wouldn't disagree with you. He was good looking in the way that you secretly hated them, yet relished their attentions.
It was only orientation but he already had so many people circling and laughing around him. He had that "it" factor.
His name was Eron Williams and he was the sole heir to the Tsui and Williams merger company. Both his mother and father were half British, and half Chinese. What are the odds, right?
He walked with an air of confidence and ease like the entire world belonged to him.
Maybe I stared too long at him from across the field, maybe he just wanted someone to take out his anger on, but he caught me staring and I knew from how he glared back at me, I knew he hated me.
The first time I ever felt his hatred was when he pushed me from behind in the cafeteria line.
"Oops, my bad," he laughed. His friends laughed, and snickered.
"What a clumsy idiot," one said.
"Look where you're going, loser."
Their snickers and hisses cut my heart like nothing I had ever felt before. I had never been bullied before. I dropped my food off my food tray and onto the ground. I mumbled it was okay.
However, I was, in that moment, branded.
I knew I would never make friends here in this school.
That night I went home, and my mom asked me what was wrong. She knew right away from my face, something was seriously wrong.
I just lied and said that my classes had gotten mixed up and it had upset me. I ran to my room and I cried. Like the loser I was quickly becoming.
I had been a friendly boy. All my friends had gone to another school, only I had come to this private school. I was alone. My mother had insisted that I go to Evergreen private high, that I was smart enough to rise the ranks of society. I had the grades, so I wrote the entrance exam.
I blindly listened to what I was told to do. I should have known better.
The rich don't like when those below them try to raise beyond their station.
My days were filled with shoving in the halls, stolen and ruined homework, two pairs of shoes destroyed, graffiti on my desk, and occasionally, getting beat in the school yard if I fought back. But it was always done by his cronies, he never lay a hand on me. He had this horrible best friend named Tesha Axellson, and the head of his cronies was this boy named Ryan Harrison, who punched like I was a sack of potatos.
"I don't want dirt on my hands," Eron would always joke.
I endured almost the entirety of grade 9 this way.
The last day of this nightmare came on a rainy April day. It was raining cats and dogs.
I stood outside the main gate. My shoes and umbrella had been stolen and I just walked in the ran in my school soft shoes, which were made only for being the classroom. Obviously, the rain had drenched them.
The rain was doing a good job of hiding my tears.
I crossed the bridge to get to the other side of the city, where my home was, one the poorer end of the city.
I stopped at the end of the bridge and I looked down at the black waters. It was an easy jump, I thought to myself.
If I jumped, the rain and water would wash away all of my pain.
I started to climb the railing, clumsily as the bars were slippery and wet.
I was halfway over the railing, and I remembered my mother. I felt ashamed. I sat on that bar, numbly, cold and wet, empty inside.
I don't remember how but my feet somehow had taken my home.
I broke down, I cried and I told my mother how I was being treated at school. My mother hugged me with all of her strength.
She told me I could move schools. I sobbed thank you. I had endured all of first year in hell. But I had no idea that was only the beginning.