As a qualified time traveler, after more than ten days, Song Ya had calmly assessed his current situation, and the conclusion... wasn't very promising.
First of all, money. The welfare benefits barely cover basic living expenses. Aunt Su Xie's side job helping the neighbors with their kids doesn't bring in much, and when spread over such a large household, it's barely a drop in the bucket. Forget about any startup funds for a time traveler—right now, he has only three quarters in his pocket, which he's keeping in case of an emergency to make a call on a public phone.
The situation of the other siblings wasn't much different. Their clothing situation was the most noticeable. Tony and Song Ya's clothes mainly came from donations by the church or charitable organizations. Tony's dark coat seemed to be a factory uniform, the sleeves and elbows almost worn out. Song Ya's black suede jacket came from an old Air Force veteran, with "U.S.A.F 1969" printed on the inner label, also in poor condition.
Connie and Emily, the two girls, fared a little better. Aunt Su Xie wouldn't let them wear too much worn-out clothing, but unfortunately, the lingering aesthetic of the '80s, combined with the African-American community's fondness for bright colors, made their outfits far from flattering. Of course, this was just Song Ya's personal opinion as a time traveler.
Being poor was one thing, but personal safety was the bigger issue. The South Side of Chicago had one of the worst crime rates in the U.S. Poverty, guns, drugs, gangs, and vendettas all intertwined, and it was now showing signs of being a chronic, intractable problem. What would be a nationwide shock in China—like a major shooting incident—was just a regular occurrence here. Shootings were so frequent that sometimes news reports would casually mention innocent bystanders being killed by stray bullets from gang shootouts.
Aside from gun violence, theft and robbery were even more common. Gangs and drugs had already infiltrated the schools, and the public schools in the black neighborhoods where the siblings attended were war zones. For example, there were a few boys waiting for the school bus, each smoking a cigarette, their smoke swirling in the air. It was clear they were trouble.
"Yo, Tony."
Fortunately, they were all from the same neighborhood. One of the boys wearing a baseball cap greeted Tony, "You hanging out with Little Lowry now?"
"Hey."
Tony smiled, gave a fist bump with the boy, and after sending Emily off to the school bus, he walked toward the other side of the station, intentionally avoiding Song Ya and Connie.
The boy with the baseball cap looked familiar. Song Ya had only ever heard people call him by his nickname "ET," probably because of his large, prominent eyes that resembled the alien character from the globally popular '80s movie. But judging by the brightly colored bandana peeking out from under his cap, Song Ya could tell that this "ET," who was only about two years older than him, was no pushover. In South Side, wearing a colorful bandana was no small thing.
Tony had a wide social circle. The school bus for middle school arrived soon, and Tony and "ET" went to the back to continue chatting. Connie also gathered with some of her classmates.
"Morning, APLUS!"
Song Ya sat in the front row with his fellow ninth-graders. As soon as he sat down, someone shouted out to him, and the other boys and girls in his grade all laughed in unison.
"Morning…"
Song Ya forced a smile and responded, then leaned back in his seat, pretending to sleep with his eyes closed.
For now, poverty and safety were problems he couldn't solve, but the immediate issue was something else: "school bullying."
Here's how it went: the original Alexander Song was an average student, somewhere between the middle and lower ranks of the class. But when his soul was swapped with Song Ya's just over ten days ago, he easily aced a math test, scoring a perfect score.
At first, it didn't seem like much of a big deal. In the U.S. decades later, nobody would care about classmates' grades. But unfortunately, political correctness in the U.S. hadn't "evolved" to that point yet. The math teacher proudly announced his 'A+' score in front of the class, praising him and using him as an example to motivate the "slower" students.
And that's when the trouble started...
In just ten days, Song Ya was quickly isolated by his classmates. What had once been a friendly nickname, "Ya Li," was now "APLUS," always accompanied by mocking laughter. The boys who were behind in class would occasionally try to "mess with him."
Though their bullying so far was limited to little things like deliberately bumping his shoulder or knocking a book off his desk, this trend was already making Song Ya feel uneasy.
In his past life, Song Ya was a typical "Buddhist" youth from China, living in a well-off family with average academic performance. After graduating from college, his six-figure savings had already set him up with a house. He'd saved up enough to buy a car and was ready to look for a wife. His life had been smooth and uneventful, so suddenly being thrown into this environment was difficult for him to handle.
Moreover, in China, who would be isolated and bullied just for scoring a perfect score on a test? Let alone getting a silly nickname like "100 points." What was even more frustrating was that while his math grades were soaring, his performance in sports and arts had plummeted. For a U.S. high school based on credit systems, it was hard to say whether it was a win or a loss.
"Is the time traveler's golden finger really a racial talent from China? If that's the case, forget about sports and arts credits and just focus on math and natural sciences. Oh, and I can't neglect English and social sciences either…"
"Even then, at most I'll finish my credits a year or a year and a half early. That means I'll have to survive in this environment for at least three more years…"
As he mentally planned his future, the school bus arrived at its destination.
"Ya Li, don't rush off after school. Wait for me," Tony called as they parted ways.
"What's up?" Song Ya asked.
Tony leaned close to his ear and whispered, "Little Lowry."
"Is he playing basketball again?" Song Ya deflated at the mention, "Can we not go?"
Since Song Ya had crossed over, the original body's athletic abilities had completely disappeared. Playing basketball was torture for him. This wasn't the casual school sports he was used to; this was street basketball in a black poor neighborhood.
"FXXX You! Don't haggle with me! Don't try any tricks!" Tony immediately changed his tone, then softened before leaving, "Just do me a favor!"
"Fine, you're the boss," Song Ya had no choice.
As they pushed through the crowded hallways and entered the classroom, Song Ya saw that his chair was thrown in the corner. "How childish…" He didn't bother to argue. He picked it up, wiped it off, and set it back. Another day of high school life in the U.S. had begun.