After placing the box back under his bed, James finally left his room, the rush of anger spent. He found his mother, Serena, still sitting at the dining table, her eyes swollen and red, lost in a quiet, agonizing sea of thought.
"Mom, I—I—I am sorry," James stammered, instantly ashamed. "I didn't mean to burst out that way. Please, forgive me." For a boy who typically locked away his feelings behind a mask of indifference, this admission was a monumental surrender.
He embraced his mother tightly, gently stroking her long black hair.
"It's okay, son," Serena managed to whisper, pulling him closer. "I just want you to know your father left for a reason. I don't believe Jim would just abandon us."
Even after ten years, Serena's love for her husband had not diminished; she remembered him as loving and fiercely protective, refusing to believe he had simply walked away.
Now, she poured her energy into her job as a civil servant, her meager salary and side jobs barely covering the bills and keeping her children in school. Still, her love for her husband remained unwavering, despite all of the challenges.
"Hey! What did you do to Mom?!" a voice shouted. Jessica materialized from whatever hole she hid herself in, glaring at her brother.
"Jessie, stop it. Go to your room and study, or at least prepare for resumption," Serena commanded gently.
"I'll also do my part..." she turned back to James. "I'll stop by Braxton tomorrow to collect your tag, books, and other necessary things, as the principal informed us. It should all be ready."
"Mum, I can go there myself," James said with a stubborn look.
"Don't worry, son. I know you're a big boy now," Serena chuckled, her voice regaining some lightness. "Tomorrow is Friday, so I'll leave work early. I can stop by Braxton and still be home in time."
James only sighed and retreated to his room.
It was pointless to argue further with his obstinate mom, when the result was always the same—his mom always winning the arguments.
James could remember he had offered to work after school countless times, but was always denied the chance, even when he was just trying to ease her burden.
The next day, Serena did exactly as promised. She returned home with James's school package—a tangible link to his future—and left him to prepare.
Time, the thief, raced, and the weekend vanished. It was Monday: James's first day at Braxton High.
He dressed with frantic speed, terrified of the cardinal sin of lateness.
"James! Are you done?" Serena called from the doorframe.
"Yeah, Mom! Give me five!" he shouted back.
Serena, shaking her head in a mix of excitement and familiarity, went to the kitchen to pack his lunch.
James rushed out, his bag slung over his shoulder, his body taut with tension. His hands were visibly shaking as he tried to tame his tousled brown hair.
"Don't worry, it's all gonna be fine, I promise," Serena soothed him.
"Jessie?" he asked, looking around.
"The school bus came to pick her up," Serena answered. "She wished you good luck before she left." She pressed his food box into his hand and adjusted his shirt.
"Thanks Mom, for everything," James managed to utter, his voice thick with a melancholic gratitude.
"I love you too, son," she chuckled, kissing his forehead.
Although James didn't say it explicitly, she knew her son well. She slipped his allowance into his pocket and watched him off.
James boarded a taxi bound for Ramsville Street, his school's location.
To his surprise, he found he was sharing the ride with a female student, a fellow student at Braxton High.
There was no uniform; students wore casual outfits, making the school tag the only source of identification.
The tag, bearing the owner's name, ID number, and a tiny passport photo, was resting peacefully on the soft, prominent curves of the girl's chest.
James's eyes instantly fixed on the tag and the display.
It took him a startlingly long three minutes before the crushing realization hit him: he had forgotten his own tag at home. The taxi was too far gone to turn back.
'What's wrong with this guy? It's been three minutes now, and he's still gawking at my chest,' the lady thought, her face tightening with clear irritation.
Finally, unable to bear the silent scrutiny, she opened her mouth to speak.
"Um, do..."
"I'm so sorry!" James cut her off, his face burning crimson. "I'm also a student at Braxton, and I must have forgotten my tag. I was so nervous I couldn't... take my eyes off the tag. After all, it's my first time here."
He quickly read the name: "Pri-scilla Barnes... nice to meet you, Priscilla." James cleared his throat, trying desperately to compose the chaotic mess of nerves he felt.
Understanding finally dawned on Priscilla's face, softening her glare into a faint smile.
"I see... you just have to tell the gatekeeper you forgot it and you're a fresher. I'm sure he'll let you in after necessary inspections," she advised.
With the awkwardness diffused, they sat upright and silent for the remainder of the ride.
At the school gate, Priscilla entered without issue. James, however, was immediately stopped and questioned by the stern-faced gatekeeper. He followed Priscilla's advice, explaining his situation, and after a brief, tense inspection, he was begrudgingly allowed inside.
But a new terror immediately arose: he couldn't find his class, Grade 10. The campus was massive, a sprawling labyrinth of blocks. His timid, anxious nature kept him running in circles, paralyzed by the thought of asking for help.
'Ah! Fu** it! I should have taken a tour around the school that day. I guess I'll have to ask someone,' James thought, pressing his palm to his face.
James had always embraced challenges, deeming them the best way to grow. But this simple task of finding a classroom felt more arduous than it should.
Little did he know, this was merely the first, most trivial hurdle. If he couldn't even find his class, how would he possibly overcome the real troubles that lay ahead?
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