In the vibrant spring of 1943, Cole Elementary School buzzed with the sounds of children playing, laughter ringing through the air. It was a lively Friday afternoon, and the schoolyard was filled with kids enjoying the warm sun. Among them were Mark Fletcher and Michael Wilson, two nerdy boys bound by friendship and a shared love for all things intellectual.
Mark, with his striking violet-red hair and thick glasses, squinted at the bright sunlight, while Michael, with his golden yellow hair and bright blue eyes, adjusted his glasses as they made their way across the playground.
"Do you think we'll have time to finish our project before school ends?" Michael asked, glancing at Mark as they walked.
"Of course! We've still got plenty of time," Mark reassured him. "But let's grab a snack first; I'm starving!"
As they approached the playground's snack stand, a soft melody drifted through the air, capturing Mark's attention. He paused mid-sentence, tilting his head to listen.
"Do you hear that?" Mark asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Yeah, it sounds nice," Michael replied, glancing back toward the source of the music. "But we should get snacks first."
"No, wait! Let's check it out!" Mark insisted, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
The two boys made their way toward the music room, peeking through the open door. Inside, they spotted Emily Hawkins, the daughter of one of the richest families in town. At just ten years old, she was already known for her talent at the piano, her green hair shimmering as she played.
"Wow, she's amazing." Mark said, mesmerized by her skill.
"That's Emily Hawkins," whispered Michael. "She's in our class."
Emily was one of the wealthiest girls in town, her family owning half the estates on the hill. Even at ten, she carried an air of grace and privilege, but there was a warmth to her that caught Michael's attention. He was always drawn to people who seemed different, yet familiar.
Mark, nervous, pushed his glasses higher on his nose. "Should we go in?"
Before they could decide, someone else approached from behind. Chris Hilton. The richest kid in school—and the world, as people often whispered. His family owned vast properties, and he carried himself with confidence beyond his years. His dark tailored jacket and polished shoes stood out in the elementary school crowd. But it wasn't his wealth that immediately struck Michael. It was something else—an unspoken feeling.
Chris noticed them lingering outside the music room and paused. His sharp brown eyes first landed on Mark, but quickly shifted to Michael. Something in the way Michael stood—the quiet confidence, the way he watched everything carefully—seemed to stir something within Chris. It was a feeling of kinship, though Chris would never admit it aloud.
"You two nerds spying on someone?" Chris asked with a teasing smirk.
Michael straightened, trying not to let the comment bother him. "We were just listening to the music."
Chris tilted his head, glancing inside the room. Emily had stopped playing and was now looking their way, curious but not unkind.
"Well, come on then," Chris said, surprising them. "Let's go say hi."
Mark hesitated, but Michael nodded. Chris led the way, and they stepped into the music room together. Emily smiled when she saw them approach.
"I didn't know anyone was listening," Emily said softly, her green hair shining in the sunlight that filtered through the window. "Do you guys like music?"
"Yeah," Michael replied simply. "It's nice."
Mark, still nervous, muttered, "You play beautifully."
Chris, leaning casually against the piano, watched Emily with a smile that carried a mix of charm and confidence. "You really are good, Emily. I like it." he said, his tone self-assured but not arrogant. He and Emily had known each other for a while—they came from the same circles, their families running in similar elite social groups. There had always been a mutual understanding between them, though their interactions were often brief at school.
Emily glanced up at Chris with a small smile. She knew Chris Hilton's reputation well—everyone did. Being the wealthiest kid in the world brought its own kind of attention, and Emily, herself from a rich family, was familiar with the expectations that came with their upbringing. Still, Chris had a way of making even the most ordinary interactions feel important, which she appreciated. She nodded in response, her green hair shining as it caught the light from the window.
But while Chris's words were directed at Emily, his gaze soon drifted back to Michael Wilson, who stood quietly by the doorway with his friend Mark. There was something about Michael that intrigued Chris. Maybe it was the quiet confidence, the way he observed everything so carefully—traits Chris recognized in himself. He couldn't quite place why, but he felt a strange, unspoken connection with him.
Michael, sensing Chris's attention, glanced back. Despite the obvious differences between them—Chris with his immaculate clothes and effortless confidence, and Michael with his nerdy appearance and reserved nature—there was a mutual understanding that passed between them. Michael wasn't easily impressed by wealth or status, and maybe that's what caught Chris's interest in the first place. For a moment, the room felt smaller, as if the two boys were sizing each other up, silently acknowledging that they were both a bit different from the others.
Chris finally broke the silence, tilting his head slightly as he looked at Michael. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice casual but curious.
"Michael Wilson." came the response, direct and without hesitation.
Chris nodded slowly, almost thoughtfully, as if committing the name to memory. His eyes narrowed slightly in appraisal. "You're not like the others, are you?"
Michael wasn't sure how to respond to that. He could sense that Chris wasn't insulting him; it felt more like a statement of fact. There was no mockery, just an observation. He simply shrugged, not giving too much away. "I guess not."
Chris straightened, pushing himself off the piano, his posture shifting from casual to more purposeful. "Come on," he said suddenly, a grin spreading across his face. "Why don't the four of us hang out sometime? I've got places way better than this stuffy school. You two nerds"—he gestured to Michael and Mark with a playful smirk—"could use a little adventure."
Mark, who had been standing quietly the whole time, was visibly surprised by the offer. Hanging out with Chris Hilton? That was a big deal. Mark, the quieter, more bookish of the two, pushed his glasses higher on his nose, trying to hide his surprise. But beneath that, there was also a spark of excitement. He looked to Michael for reassurance.
Michael, however, was calm. He had already sensed something in Chris—a shared restlessness, maybe even ambition. Despite their different lives, Michael felt like Chris understood something about him. "Sure," he replied, his voice steady. "Why not?"
Emily, who had been listening to the exchange with quiet amusement, smiled warmly. "That sounds fun," she said, her voice polite but genuine. "I'd like to see more of the city."
Chris's grin widened. "Good. I'll show you all how the Hiltons have fun."
As the four of them stood together in that moment—the rich and poised Emily Hawkins, the confident and magnetic Chris Hilton, the observant and quiet Michael Wilson, and the shy but curious Mark Fletcher—it felt like the beginning of something new. Despite their different backgrounds, there was an unspoken bond forming between them. Little did they know, this moment in the music room would be the start of a friendship that would shape their lives in ways they couldn't yet imagine.
As the four of them stood together for the first time, an unspoken understanding began to form. Chris and Michael had found kindred spirits in each other, and Emily's gentle presence balanced them out. Mark, though still nervous, felt a thrill of excitement. Little did they know, this would be the beginning of a friendship that would shape their futures in ways none of them could predict.
The end.