As a qualified transmigator, after more than ten days, Alex had calmly assessed his starting situation, and the conclusion... was quite pessimistic.
First, he was poor. Welfare could only guarantee basic living. The extra income Aunt Susie earned by babysitting for neighbors on weekdays was just a drop in the bucket for such a large household. Forget about any transmigration startup funds; right now, he only had three quarters in his pocket, saved in case of emergencies to make a call from a public phone.
The situation of the other siblings was similar. Their clothing was the most obvious indicator. Tony's and his own clothes were basically all donations from churches or charities. The dark coat Tony was wearing now should have been a factory uniform; the cuffs and elbows were almost worn through. His own black suede jacket came from an old Air Force veteran, with "U.S.A.F 1969" still on the inner tag. Its condition was equally poor.
The two girls, Connie and Emily, were treated much better. Aunt Susie wouldn't let them wear clothes that were too ragged. Unfortunately, the lingering aesthetic of the 1980s coupled with African Americans' excessive fondness for bright colors resulted in an overall effect that was not flattering. Of course, the above was just Alex's personal opinion as a transmigator.
Poverty was bad enough, but personal safety was the real big problem. The public security in the South Side of Chicago was notoriously bad in the US. Poverty, guns, drugs, gangs, and revenge killings influenced each other, and the situation was showing a trend of being difficult to cure.
Major shooting cases that would shock the entire country in India were no big deal here; they happened every so often, and there were even frequent news reports of passersby accidentally being hit and killed by stray bullets from gang shootouts.
Besides shootings, low-intensity crimes like theft and robbery were even more common. Gangs and drugs had long infiltrated schools. The public schools in the black neighborhoods that the siblings attended were disaster areas. For example, the several half-grown boys also waiting for the school bus were all smoking cigarettes, shrouded in smoke, looking like trouble at first glance.
"Yooo, Tony."
Fortunately, they were from the same block. One of the half-grown boys wearing a baseball cap took the initiative to greet Tony, "You hanging out with Little Lowry now?"
"Hey."
Tony put Emily on the newly arrived elementary school bus, smiled, and fist-bumped the baseball cap, "Let's talk over there." He deliberately avoided Alex and Connie and walked towards the other end of the station.
The baseball cap looked a bit familiar. Alex had only heard people call him by his nickname 'ET'. This was probably because his large, prominently bulging eyes bore a strong resemblance to the alien character in the movie that was popular worldwide in the 1980s. However, from the corner of the patterned bandana vaguely visible under the brim of his cap, Alex knew that this 'ET', who was about the same age as himself, was definitely a tough character. In the South Side, a patterned bandana was not something you could just wear casually.
Tony had a wide circle of friends. The middle school bus also arrived quickly. He and 'ET' and their group went to the back row to continue chatting and laughing. Connie also gathered with her classmates from the same grade.
"Morning, A+( APLUS)!"
Alex's small circle of ninth graders was in the front row. As soon as he sat down, someone shouted, and then the boys and girls from the same grade next to him laughed in unison.
"Morning..."
Alex forced out a smile in response and then leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes and pretending to sleep.
Poverty and safety were problems he couldn't find a solution for at the moment. The more immediate issue was another one: "school bullying."
Here's what happened: The original Alexander's academic performance was about average to below average in his class. However, when his soul was replaced by Alex more than ten days ago, he easily got a perfect score on a math test.
It wasn't a big deal originally. If it were the US several decades later, no classmate would be able to know another's grades. But right now, political correctness in the US hadn't "evolved" to that extent. The math teacher happily announced his 'A+' score in front of the whole class, praised him profusely, and used him as an example to push the "underachievers."
Then the trouble started...
In just ten days, Alex was quickly isolated by his classmates.
His original nickname 'Alex' was now called 'A+' and was always accompanied by inexplicable laughter. The several underachieving boys started to "provoke" him from time to time.
Although the current provocations were limited to deliberately bumping him with their shoulders when they passed by or knocking a book off his desk, this trend made Alex very uneasy.
In his previous life, Alex was a typical laid-back young man in India. His family was well-off, his academic performance was above average. As soon as he graduated from university, his parents had prepared a house for him. After coding for a few years, he saved up for a car and was preparing to find a wife. His life had been smooth sailing. Suddenly being thrown into the current environment was truly something he couldn't cope with.
Moreover, in India, who would be isolated and bullied just for getting a perfect score? Not to mention giving classmates silly nicknames like 'Mr. 100 Points'. The most unfair part was that while his math scores had improved by leaps and bounds, his grades in physical education and art had plummeted. For a US high school with a credit system, it was hard to say whether he was gaining or losing!
"Is the transmigator's cheat just the Indian racial talent? If so, I might as well give up on PE and art credits and focus on math and natural sciences. Oh, and I can't neglect English and social sciences either..."
"Even so, at most I can finish my credits half a year or a year early. That means I still have to survive in this environment for at least three years..."
Planning his future along the way, the school bus reached its destination before he knew it.
"Alex, don't leave in a hurry after school, wait for me," Tony instructed him before they parted.
"Why?" Alex asked.
Tony leaned close to his ear and whispered, "Little Lowry."
"Playing basketball again?" Alex's spirits sank when he heard this. "Can I not go?"
Ever since he transmigrated, the original body's athletic foundation was completely gone. Playing basketball was torture for him. This was street basketball in a black ghetto, completely different from what he used to casually shoot during PE class before he transmigrated.
"FXXX You! Don't bargain! And don't play tricks on me!" Tony's face immediately changed, and before leaving, he added a softer line, "Just do it as a favor to me!"
"Okay, you're the boss," Alex had no choice.
Walking through the noisy crowd and entering the classroom, he saw that the chair behind his desk had been thrown into the corner of the classroom. "Childish..." Too lazy to pursue it, he picked it up, wiped it clean, put it back in place, and thus began another day of US high school life.