The school bell rang, signaling the end of the day. The students of Redwood High poured out into the streets, each carrying their own burdens, secrets, and ambitions as they made their way home.
________________________________________
Pennie's Perspective
Pennie walked briskly down the sidewalk, clutching the strap of her bag tightly. The day's events swirled in her mind: the stares, the questions, and, most hauntingly, the sight of Vari Parks. His calm demeanor in the face of bullying only made him more unnerving.
As she reached her house, a modest two-story tucked behind a line of trees, she forced herself to breathe. Inside, her family greeted her with smiles and warmth. She kept her usual demeanor during dinner, laughing at her dad's jokes and asking her little brother about his day. But deep down, she felt unsettled.
Her mind drifted back to Vari. *He doesn't remember me, does he?* she thought, stabbing a piece of broccoli with her fork. The image of his cold, emotionless eyes from that night flashed in her memory, and her hand trembled slightly. She quickly excused herself to her room, determined not to let her family see her like this.
________________________________________
Cole's Perspective
Cole Maverick trudged through the front door of his house, his bag slung over one shoulder. The smell of burnt toast and coffee lingered in the air, a remnant of his father's rushed breakfast.
"Cole!" boomed the deep voice of Henry Maverick, his father. The older buffalo stomped into the living room, his tie slightly askew. "Did you turn in your homework today?"
Cole hesitated, glancing down. "Not yet, but—"
"Not yet?!" Henry interrupted, his voice rising. "This is exactly why your mother left! You can't even handle basic responsibilities!"
The words hit like a punch to the gut. Cole flinched, his fists clenching at his sides. Henry stormed off, muttering under his breath, leaving Cole standing there, frozen.
He went to his room and slammed the door, collapsing onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling, the echo of his father's words ringing in his ears. He didn't cry. He never did. Instead, he let the frustration boil inside him, a storm with nowhere to go.
________________________________________
Jayson's Perspective
Jayson strode confidently through the front doors of his lavish apartment building, nodding at the doorman who greeted him with a polite, "Good evening, Mr. Jayson."
His "crib," as he called it, was a sleek, modern apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. The scent of cologne and faint perfume hung in the air, remnants of his latest conquests.
A young lynx girl was sitting on his couch, flipping through a magazine. She looked up and smiled. "Hey, Jayson. You're back."
He smirked, dropping his bag by the door. "Of course. I wouldn't leave you hanging."
But even as he charmed her, his mind wandered. This was his routine—bring someone home, win their heart, then break it. It was a game he never lost, but even he couldn't say why he played it.
________________________________________
Jessie's Perspective
Jessie perched on her bed, a notebook open in front of her. Her room was cluttered with piles of notebooks, each one filled with detailed observations about the lives of her classmates.
She scribbled in the newest addition, which was dedicated to Pennie. "Transfer student, raccoon, seems nervous around Vari Parks. Possible history there?"
Her pen hovered over the page for a moment before she moved on to Vari's section. His pages were mostly empty, save for a few notes. "Nerd. Quiet. Bullied. No known family."
Jessie frowned. For someone who was supposedly an open book, Vari Parks was unreadable. She clicked her pen shut and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "One day," she muttered to herself. "I'll figure you out."
________________________________________
Vari's Perspective
Vari walked alone, his path leading him far from the suburban streets of his classmates. He ducked into a shadowed alley and descended into the sewers, the air growing damp and musty around him.
The underground world was a city of its own, ruled by two factions: the Rat gangs and the Croc gangs. Vari passed by groups of rats, who scurried out of his way, their eyes wide with fear. Whispers followed him.
"It's him…"
"The Serial Menace…"
"Don't make eye contact!"
The Crocs were less fearful but just as wary. As Vari walked past a group of them lounging by a broken pipe, one snorted and muttered, "Think you're tough, huh? Just 'cause you beat Marcus that one time."
Vari ignored them, his expression calm. He reached a ladder leading to the surface and climbed up, emerging in front of a small, unassuming house.
Two buffalo officers stood by the front gate, their expressions softening when they saw him.
"Welcome back, Vari," one of them said. "192 days in a row without being late. Keep it up."
Vari nodded politely, adjusting his glasses as he stepped inside. The house was quiet, almost too quiet, but he didn't mind. He placed his glasses in their case and sat at his desk, staring at a blank piece of paper.
His hands trembled slightly as he picked up a pen.
"Today was a good day," he whispered to himself, trying to convince himself it was true.