{5 years Later}
"I'm sorry, there's nothing more we can do," the principal said, his voice careful, as he stared at the family of three with a hint of sympathy in his eyes.
The office smelled faintly of old paper and polish.
A wide wooden desk separated them. Its surface crowded with folders, a brass nameplate, and a small desk clock ticking louder than it should have.
His fingers interlocked on the desk, knuckles whitening slightly, "I'm going to be blunt," he said, flipping open a folder.
"We've received another report of an item going missing from one of his classmates. And after a thorough investigation, all the evidence pointed to your son, Steven."
"But they're still children!" the mother leaned forward defensively, her voice breaking into a plea. "You can't just—"
"The parents have threatened to file a lawsuit, Mrs. Kovac." the middle-aged voice gravely cut in.
His gaze shifted to the young boy sitting between his parents, feet not quite touching the floor, hands folded too neatly in his lap.
Steven's eyes flicked to the pen on the table, he swallowed, then looked away too quickly.
Facing the parents once more,
"I'm sorry, but we can't have someone with his… condition, in our school."
"Con-dition?" Mrs. Kovac gasped, as the word caught in her throat.
"Honey—"
"My boy is not defective, we've had him tested!" she said sharply, one hand pressing against the arm of her chair as if to steady herself.
"He's whole—like any other child you have in this school." she glared at the head of the school.
"Honey, please calm down," Mr. Kovac said, his voice low, tired, reaching for her wrist and missing.
She turned on him.
"How can I be calm? He's expelling our child because he thinks Steven is defective."
Mr. Kovac exhaled, the sound rough in his chest.
"He's not wrong," he said. "We need to correct this problem."
Mrs. Kovac stared at him as if she hadn't heard him correctly. The anger she'd been holding for the principal faltered, searching for somewhere else to land.
"Are you saying our boy's defective?"
Her husband didn't meet her eyes.
"I'm saying," Mr. Kovac said, quieter now, "that something isn't right. And pretending otherwise won't help him."
That did it.
Mrs. Kovac laughed once — a short, broken sound — then stopped.
She slumped slightly in her seat as she faced the principal.
"We've had him tested," Mrs. Kovac said quietly. "My son isn't defective."
The principal watched them in silence as their voices rose and fell.
After a pause he leaned forward with his fingers still interlocked,
"Okay, how about this. There's a school that just might accept him."
...
...
Stupid.
A young boy dressed in neat but slightly worn clothes walked down the cold neon-lit streets of the city. His head down, lost in thoughts as clear as his reflection on the wet opaque asphalt.
Occasionally, the boy took quick glances at the stalls on the side of the streets as though afraid to keep his gaze for too long.
Idiot.
It's all your fault.
Until his helplessness slipped out in a murmur.
"Why can't you just stop?"
Steven's family had just moved to this new city to start afresh, thankfully the companies his parents worked for both had branches here.
It had been a week since they arrived, and they were all still trying to get used to the environment.
On getting here Steven was told that Lumel, while near the outskirts of the continent, was like a light at the end of the tunnel, and that gave him a little hope the new environment would make things different.
Sadly, it didn't.
On the fourth day of school, he "accidentally" stole a textbook carelessly kept by a classmate not knowing he was a child of the CEO of a minor Sentinel based in the city.
His classmate wasn't very happy being singled out as the only one that lacked the materials for his first class.
To his dismay, he discovered that the book he stole was marked. And in a reckless attempt to return it without notice he was caught at the last moment.
He quickly tried to reason with them,
It was a mistake. I-I picked the wrong one.
But alas, he couldn't explain how he could have accidentally stolen something that was at the opposite end of where he sat in the classroom.
After a pause, where his classmates just stared between the two seats then turned back to him with expressions as though he'd just insulted the intelligence of their ancestors, they dragged him out "softly" to beat him to a pulp.
But since they were just meeting Steven for the first time, they decided to graciously let him off with only a warning.
"Aren't we so kind?" They snickered, leaving the kneeling figure of a swollen-faced Steven in a corner gazing at their fading figures in a daze.
'How is this a warning?
...
At home, his parents weren't happy when they found out. But when he shakily told them the reason, they directed their anger at each other for reasons Steven still couldn't understand.
His parents had been getting into more and more arguments because of him, and this scared Steven. So, he ran and locked himself in his room.
Another week passed and Steven made sure there were no incidents because he made a new plan to stop his defect.
One, keep your hands to yourself.
And two, don't look at any nice thing for more than 4 seconds.
'3 seconds feels too short, and five is too big a number.' He nodded to himself.
So far, it was working.
I think.
'Is this the way to the store?' Steven swerved his head to the edges of the streets before quickly putting his head back down.
He was currently running an errand for his mother. She had asked him to get some wall decorations for the house.
But because he had mostly been staring at his feet, he wasn't too sure where he was.
He could have sworn he took the right turn three streets ago...
With each step he took stalls appeared in greater number, and so did the people.
And that became a problem for Steven.
'T-Too many!' His head snapped down even further.
People carried nice things too. And some even wore them.
Now young Steven glanced up even less, scared of making things go bad again.
At least, it's not like he could steal their shoes...
...right?!
Shaking the strange thoughts from his head he continued walking.
But this made navigating way more difficult, so he let himself get pulled by the crowd.
Relying on the stars and mother earth to lead him to where he needed to be.
But sometimes, you should be careful what you wish for. Because sometimes, you just might get it.
"Is that it?"
"Haha, this is just standard, er—for show, more... useful ones are kept safely. Until ready."
Steven's ears perked up and he glanced up. From the corner of his sight Steven caught a group of stalls a few meters away and decided to approach.
"Just name a good price Boss, I'm on a budget here."
Steven pushed out of the crowd only to find himself in an unkempt alley.
Stalls lined both sides of the alley. Quiet haggling drifted through the air.
'Is this the right place?'
He looked around to see a variety of stalls with gloves, shoes, clothing, mirrors, gadgets, and a lot of other nice.... very nice...
Oops
He snapped his gaze back to the cracked asphalt.
'Yeah, it looks good.' He nodded to himself.
Other than the cloaked customers, the strange meat floating in poorly concealed bottles, and shiny things that looked like only the Brights told in stories were allowed to use, everything seemed okay.
He spotted a stall selling paintings and walked towards it.
His mother should love that.
The merchant was a middle-aged man with a stubble beard. Compared to everyone else, he looked almost normal.
At least he still had all his limbs.
"Good evening, sir. I want to buy this." Steven pointed at a small painting of a Bright standing heroically with her back against an ocean sunset hanging low under a blue sky.
...
The merchant glanced down to see a scrawny kid with wide eyes fixed on his goods.
"Oh?" He smiled calmly, like a doting grandparent. "Well, hello, what's our little one doing in these parts at this time of day?"
'Judging by the neat and stylish clothes he seems to be from a well-off family—the shoes are a bit worn though—Alright. I can get some beer money from this lad.'
In a split second he had already evaluated the unassuming child.
"I-I want to get something for my mom" The boy's expression relaxed a little.
He glanced at the painting. "That'll be 50 Worth." He smiled, even though it had no price tag.
"Umm..." The light in the merchant's eyes dimmed a little as the boy began fidgeting... "What can I get for 10." ...he fished out a couple of notes and stared hopefully.
The merchant's elbows rested on his countertop as he sighed through his nose.
"I'll tell you what kid. I'll give you one of my very special—very rare—paintings for just the price of that candy over there."
He nudged his chin over to a diagonal stall a little while away from his.
The boy's eyes followed his directions and widened in shock a second later.
'Maybe he's just scared of the monster parts.'
Yes, the shop he was directing to mainly sold monster parts and ingredients.
And what he wanted was wrapped and skewered on a wooden stake like a sweet. Of course, the balls were too big for a person to take without fainting or having a very bad tummy ache, but the lad needn't know that.
"If you can get that candy for me, I'll give you this painting. It should cost about 10, we're kind of in a fight you see so...
...Boy, you can stop staring now."
For some reason the boy's eyes were still locked on the stall.
The merchant stared at him for a moment more and relaxed back on his chair. "If you're too scared you can just leave it, maybe I can ge—"
"No! No. I-I'll do it." The boy interrupted, reluctantly pulling his gaze away from the stall.
"Alright then" The merchant gave a nod, which was returned almost immediately.
He watched the boy creep towards the stall with his head low like he was walking towards an organ trafficker.
His hands clenched and unclenched constantly, as though that part of him was having a lucid seizure.
Intrigued, the merchant watched with a side eye.
'Why such a strong reaction?'
"Thank you! Good sir, hope you have a great day."
A faint wave of appreciation bloomed briefly in his awareness, telling him that his competitor had just concluded yet another successful transaction.
It was at that moment that the boy got to the stall...
BUMP!
SLAM!
CRASH!
...it was a good show though.
For some reason the strange kid spent more time admiring the ground than watching where he was going.
He came in from behind the gentleman who was turning to leave, and they both bumped into each other.
Betrayed by friction he slid over the wet ground,
He tripped over his own feet.
Slammed both palms onto the counter in a sad attempt to find purchase.
And sent half its contents crashing to the floor.
All while saying sorry repeatedly.
The merchant had a good laugh watching his competitor throw a fit as the child hurriedly tried to fix the mess.
The next events though, he couldn't wrap his head around.
Instead of performing the task he asked him to, the boy just kept bowing his head rapidly while saying sorry and bolted from the alley.
"Hey kid!" He tried to call the boy, but he had mixed into the crowd.
The merchant sighed as he laid back on his chair once more.
"There goes my beer."
Turning to his competitor's stall to look at the good he'd been trying to get his hands on, he froze.
"Huh?"
'Wasn't there a nanotech prototype beside it?"