Prologue
It was a bright, sunny Monday in a city called Metroken, where many people were currently attending school at Albert Graham High School.
A science fair was currently being held on school premises, and most of the projects were what you would expect from a bunch of high schoolers.
Homemade volcanoes, potato alarm clocks—not much originality.
With two big exceptions being George Matthew Sampson and Michael Quentin Anderson.
George was about 5′10 with a dark brown head of hair and was also pretty strong and athletic for someone who most would consider a geek.
Michael, on the other hand, did look like a stereotypical geek; he stood at 5′4 with light blonde hair and wore a particularly large pair of glasses, not to mention he had precisely zero muscle mass to speak of.
These two young men were well known in their school for their exceptional intelligence.
But it was also known that Michael had George beat in that regard.
He had beaten George in every single competition the two had ever had that involved their brains, but George was confident that she was going to win this time.
The science teacher, Mr. Green, approached the two students who were set up next to each other.
“Hello, boys, George, we’ll start with you.” Mr. Green said
“Yes, sir, I have a pen that could theoretically tell you everything about yourself—your family tree, your favorite things—it could even warn you about potential diseases that could be forming inside your body. All you need to do is prick your finger with it and give it some of your DNA.” George states with confidence.
“Oh? Let me test it.” Mr. Green requests
Mr. Green allows George to gently prick his finger to draw a single drop of blood.
The pen starts beeping what sounds like Morse Code.
“Your full name is Joshua Mason Green; you’re forty-four years old; you’ve been a teacher for eighteen years; you’ve been married for fifteen years; you have an eleven-year-old daughter and a nine-year-old son; your favorite food is fish and chips; your favorite music is classical; and you are extremely impressed with my invention.” George says, fully believing he’s about to win.
“George, it’s extraordinary; you have, without any possible doubt, outdone yourself this time. I think you’ve got this one.” Mr. Green said, feeling completely astonished.
Michael clears his throat, gaining the attention of both men.
“But of course I haven’t forgotten about you, Michael.” Mr. Green approaches Michael as he says this.
“Thank you, sir.” Michael says with a big grin,
“What is it this year?” Mr. Green asks
“Well, sir, I have constructed a device that I believe could, with some alterations, solve the global energy crisis.” Michael states, proudly pushing his glasses up his nose.
Mr. Green’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “A device that could solve the global energy crisis? Now that’s something!”
George tries to hide his skepticism, glancing over at Michael’s project with a mix of curiosity and competitive spirit. Michael’s setup is more complex than George’s, with wires snaking around a metallic contraption that seems to be the centerpiece of his invention. It’s a cube, about the size of a shoebox, with a small, glowing crystal at the center. The device is humming quietly, emitting a faint, pulsing light.
“Now bear with me, but I have arranged to have all the lights in the building shut off in just a moment. It’s the only way to properly showcase my work.” Michael says, his eyes twinkling with excitement.
The room buzzes with anticipation as Mr. Green nods in agreement and signals to the janitor waiting by the door. The lights dim and eventually go out, leaving only the emergency exit signs to cast a red glow around the room. The glow from Michael’s cube intensifies, filling the space with a soft blue light. The humming grows louder, and the crystal at the center begins to pulse rapidly.
Suddenly all the lights go back on, slightly more dimmed than normal, but on nonetheless.
“Tada! It may appear as though the power has been turned back on, but it is actually my device powering the building. If this device were produced in mass, the entire world could be powered up! No more sapping the earth for all its natural energy, no more families getting their power cut because they can’t afford to pay their bills, and no more power outages caused by natural disasters. Just pure, clean energy right at the touch of a button.” Michael says, completely casual about it.
The room goes silent as the implications of what Michael has just said sink in.
Mr. Green’s eyes widen as he tries to process the magnitude of the claim.
“Michael, if what you’re saying is true, this could change everything,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the stunned whispers of the surrounding students.
“Mmm hmm... Now I hate to interrupt, but I think it’s time you awarded first place.” Michael says with a knowing smile, watching Mr. Green’s reaction.
Mr. Green, still in awe, slowly nods his head. “You’re absolutely right, Michael. Your project is... incredible.”
The crowd of students and teachers who had gathered around their display started to murmur among themselves, some in amazement, others in skepticism. The tension in the room is palpable as George tries to keep his cool. The moment of truth had arrived, and the outcome was far from certain.
Mr. Green, visibly flustered, stammers out a few words of congratulations before announcing to the fairgoers that he needs to consult with the judges. The room buzzes with excitement and speculation as George and Michael pack up their projects, each lost in their own thoughts.
The decision comes back quickly: Michael’s project wins first place. The room erupts in applause, and Michael soaks it in, basking in his victory.
George, however, can’t help but feel a twinge of defeat. He’s always been the one who’s been close but not quite there. He looks at Michael, who is beaming with pride, and can’t help but feel a mix of admiration and envy.
While everyone is distracted while giving praise to Michael and his revolutionary invention, George decides to pack up and leave. He truthfully didn’t think anyone would actually notice until Mr. Green himself approached him.
“You’re leaving already?” Mr. Green asks, somewhat disappointed.
“Why would I stay? Everybody is focused on Michael anyway. Not that I don’t understand it—he’s beaten out all of my inventions with his own; I don’t matter. If my own school won’t acknowledge my intelligence, then why would the rest of the world? I’ll always be in his shadow.” George says, clearly holding back a lot of his emotions.
“George, you don’t have to be the smartest man on the planet to be considered a genius. Your mind can still be used to help countless people.” Mr. Green says, reassuringly.
“What’s so good about being a regular genius when there’s a super genius sitting next to you in class? I’m just George, the guy who gets second place,” George mutters, trying to keep his voice low enough so that Michael wouldn’t hear.
Mr. Green puts a hand on his shoulder. “Remember, George, competition isn’t everything. What you’ve created is still incredible. Just because what he created is more impressive doesn’t mean yours is necessarily less impressive.” He glances over at Michael, who’s currently explaining his device to a group of fascinated students. “What do you say? Want to go shake his hand and congratulate him?” Mr. Green asks
George thinks for a moment before shaking his head. “Not right now; I’m going to see him again after school anyway. I’ll congratulate him then.” George says, flinging his backpack over his shoulder and walking away.
Mr. Green nods, understanding the need for space, but makes a mental note to talk to George more about his feelings later.
Elsewhere in the school, we see another student walking the halls. Her name is Heather Sofia Martinez, a 5′5 brunette with piercing green eyes and a sharp wit. She’s She’s known for being the school’s resident artist, not often participating in the school’s science fairs, so instead of attending, she had been in art class by herself experimenting with new techniques. What Heather is best known for, however, is her kind heart. She is well-known for her volunteer work, whether in the soup kitchen or at the children’s hospital. Unfortunately, not everyone appreciates a gentle soul like hers.
“Hey! Look who it is... It’s Heather the bitch.” Calls Linda, the school’s most vicious bully.
Heather flinches at the sound of the hateful insult, her cheeks flushing as she quickens her pace, hoping to avoid confrontation. But Linda and her posse of followers aren’t known for their respect for personal boundaries. They close in around her, trapping her against the lockers.
“What’s the matter, Heather? Cat got your tongue?” Linda sneers, her friends giggling at the cruel remark.
Heather gathers her courage and looks Linda straight in the eye. “I’d love to talk, but I have better things to do than waste my time with ignorant people,” she says, her voice steady.
Linda’s smirk falters for a moment before she recovers, “Oh, you think you’re too good for us? Just because you’re Mrs. Basketball's little science pet?”
Heather’s eyes narrow. “I don’t have time for this.” She tries to push past, but Linda grabs her arm, yanking her back.
“Oh, you do have time. You’re going to apologize for calling us ignorant,” Linda says, her grip tightening.
Heather tries to pull her arm free with all her strength. “Let me go,” she says through gritted teeth.
“Make me,” Linda challenges, her smug grin turning into a snarl.
“Maybe I can make you.” Says a voice coming from behind Linda and her friends.
Linda turns and looks shocked to see Samantha Ashley Hartwell, the star player of their high school’s women’s basketball team. Standing at an impressive 5′11, she completely towers over Linda. That, combined with her known anger problems, is enough to make Linda’s grip on Heather’s arm soften slightly.
“I thought I told you to quit bullying her, Linda. Let her go.” Samantha demands, fire in her eyes.
Linda’s smirk falters, and she looks over her shoulder at Samantha, her grip loosening a bit more. “Or what?” she says, trying to regain control of the situation.
“Have you ever been put through a wall? I can make that happen.” Samantha threatens, her voice low and serious. Linda’s confidence wavers as she takes in Samantha’s unyielding stance.
Heather’s eyes dart between the two, a mix of fear and relief in her gaze. She’s grateful for the unexpected backup but doesn’t want this to escalate into a physical fight.
Luckily it doesn’t come to that, as Linda does the wise thing and releases her grip.
Linda looks Heather in the eyes, “Samantha won’t always be around to watch your back, but we’ll always be in your head.” Linda says before she and her friends walk away.
Samantha looks at Heather and sees her on the verge of tears. She steps closer and puts a gentle hand on Heather’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Heather nods, but her voice is shaky. “Yeah, I just... I don’t get it. Why does she hate me so much? I try to be a good person.”
Samantha wraps her arms tightly around Heather. “You are a good person; if you weren’t good, you wouldn’t have hesitated to punch her lights out. You’re a better person than damn near anybody on the planet. But some people, like Linda, are full of hate without cause.”
“Thanks, Sam,” Heather says with a small smile, “but what are you doing here? Aren’t you usually at practice?”
“I’ve practiced enough; I wanted to see my favorite person, so I snuck away. I’ll probably get chastised for it, but who cares?” Samantha states, humor evident in her voice.
The two girls share a brief laugh, the tension of the moment dissipating slightly. Heather’s eyes light up at the sight of Samantha, a stark contrast to the fear that had just filled them moments ago.
“You really don’t have to do this, you know,” Heather says, still a bit shaky.
“I know,” Samantha responds, reaching out to gently caress Heather’s face. “But I’m not letting anyone mess with you, especially not her. You’re too precious for me to let somebody hurt you.”
Her words hang in the air, and for a moment, Heather feels a warmth spread through her that has nothing to do with the tension from before. She looks up at Samantha, and for the first time, she sees something in those eyes that isn’t anger or friendship. It’s something deeper, something she’s never seen before.
“Sam, I... I don’t know what to say,” Heather stammers, feeling her own face flush with a warmth that’s spreading from her cheeks to the tips of her ears.
“Well, you already know how I feel. I suspect you’ve known for a long time, so just say however you feel.” Samantha says, staring deep into her eyes.
Heather’s heart races as she tries to find the right words. She’s had a crush on Sam for what feels like forever, but she’s never had the courage to tell her. “I...I think you’re pretty amazing too.” She finally manages to say, her voice barely above a whisper.
Samantha’s eyes light up, and she leans in closer, “You do?”
“Yeah, I do,” Heather confirms, her voice stronger now. “I just...I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”
Samantha smiles warmly, “Trust me, Heather, telling me you think I’m amazing is hardly ruining our friendship.”
Heather’s breath catches in her throat as Samantha leans in even closer, and for a moment, she thinks she’s going to kiss her. But before anything can happen, the bell rings, signaling the end of the school day. The sound breaks the spell, and both girls jump back, looking around to make sure no one saw.
“Uh... I-I’ll see you later today at the uh, at the thing.” Heather says awkwardly,
“Y-Yeah, s-see you then.” Samantha responds before walking off.
Outside the school, everyone is getting ready to leave either by bus, a parent picking them up, or the lucky few that have their own car. But there is one student who always turns heads whenever she arrives at or leaves the school.
Her name is Ruth Alexandria Boyce, and she is wealthy. She’s so wealthy that she gets her own private limousine picking her up from school every day. She actually hated being the center of attention at pick-up time, but it was a compromise with her parents. She used to attend a very prestigious private school, but she hated it; she thought everyone was so stuck up and boring. She begged to change schools, which her parents reluctantly agreed to if she got picked up by a limo every day. The bus was for commoners, and her parents believed their daughter riding in one would make them look bad in some way. So Ruth was currently standing by the curb and waiting.
Ruth is a 5′8 beauty with long, curly blonde hair that falls like a waterfall down her back. She has piercing blue eyes that sparkle with mischief, a trait that’s gotten her into more than a bit of trouble in the past. She’s wearing her school uniform, which is a navy blue skirt and a crisp white shirt, but she’s accessorized it with a diamond necklace and her favorite pair of designer shoes. But if there was one thing Ruth lacked, it was a romantic connection. There wasn’t a single guy at school who wanted to go out with her for her personality, only for her money.
Her thoughts are interrupted by the sleek black limousine that pulls up to the curb, the chauffeur stepping out to open the door for her with a courteous nod. She slides in, the leather interior cool against her skin, and sighs heavily as the door shuts, cutting off the whispers and stares of her classmates. She knows they’re all wondering what it’s like to live the high life she does, but the truth is, it’s a lonely existence.
Her chauffeur, Thomas, gets into the driver’s seat and pulls away from the school.
Thomas looks up at the rearview mirror and sees the look on Ruth’s face. “Are you alright, Madam Ruth?” Thomas asks in a soft British accent.
“Please don’t call me madam.” Ruth pleads.
“My apologies, but your parents have made it clear to me that I must address you as madam at all times.” Thomas responds, apologetically.
“... It sucks not being able to grow up like a regular kid, being stared at like there’s something wrong with me just because my parents are loaded. Is this what my life is destined to be like?” Ruth asks, feeling dejected.
“Madam Ruth, it may not seem like it right now, but your life is entirely in your hands. You get to decide how the world sees you, not your parents, not your classmates, only you.” Thomas says, his eyes never leaving the road.
Ruth sighs, “Easy for you to say, Thomas. You don’t have to deal with the constant pressure of living up to their expectations or being used for what I have, not who I am.”
Thomas nods, understandingly, “I know it’s not easy, but I’ve seen the way you stand up for yourself, the way you’ve tried to be kind despite your circumstances. You have more strength than you give yourself credit for.”
“Thanks, Thomas,” Ruth says with a sad smile. “I guess I just wish there was someone who saw me for me, not the bank account attached to my name.”
Those words from Thomas mean more to Ruth than most people would suspect. Thomas and every other member of the help her family has hired were brought in because her parents are often way too busy to actually spend any time with her. So in a sense her chauffeur, her maids, and her butlers are all more like parents than her actual parents. They’re the ones who fed her, clothed her, cheered her up, and cared about her.
Her phone buzzes in her pocket, interrupting her contemplative silence. She pulls it out to see a text from her mother, reminding her of the charity gala she’s expected to attend tonight. The excitement of the science fair is replaced with dread as she realizes she’ll have to spend her evening schmoozing with people she can’t stand, all in the name of her family’s public image.
Back at school, George is packing up his DNA pen, feeling a strange mix of pride and defeat. Despite the amazingness of his creation, it’s clear that Michael’s invention has stolen the show. He sighs, thinking about what Mr. Green said. Maybe it’s time for him to explore different avenues for his talents.
Once he’s finished packing up, he goes home and calls out to his father. “Dad, I’m home! But I’m not staying long!” But he gets no response. He isn’t surprised, though; it was common for his dad to be at work until super late, rarely being at home during the day. He doesn’t blame his father, though; he’s been forced to take on way more work hours ever since his mom died.
He shakes his head and goes to his room to change from his school uniform into something more casual. Just a simple button-up and some blue jeans. He grabs a small case by his bed before walking back out of the house.
Heather also just got back to her house, where she was greeted by her parents, Margaret and Kyle.
“There’s our girl! Did you have a good day in school?” Margaret asks,
Heather has never told her parents about the bullying. “Uh, yeah, Mom, it was great. Uh, is it okay if I go hang with my friends? I’ll be back before dinner.” Heather asks sweetly.
“Alright, you go have fun.” Kyle responds.
“Thank you.” Heather gives them a smile before going to her room to change her clothes and grab a fairly large case from her closet before heading back out.
Samantha goes to her house and sees her parents sitting on the couch. She chooses not to bother them and just goes up to her room, changes her clothes, and grabs a case similar to the one Heather just had.
She attempts to leave, but she hears her mom’s voice: “Are you leaving to go see your friends?”
Samantha pauses for a good minute before responding, “Yes, Mom.”
Her dad chimes in, “You know what Thursday is... right?”
Samantha pauses again. “Yes, Dad.”
She doesn’t get another response for several seconds, so she just leaves the house.
Thomas drops Ruth off at her family mansion; it’s truly a remarkable sight.
Ruth goes inside to see her clothes and her rolling case have already been laid out for her by the help. She sees one of the maids named Courtney. “Thank you for getting my stuff together.” Ruth says with a smile.
Courtney smiles back, “You are very welcome, Madam Ruth.”
“Are Mother and Father here?” Ruth asks
“Yes, but they are far too busy to talk; they’re getting ready for the event tonight.” Courtney says, sympathetically.
“Right... Tell them I’ll be back in time to go.” Ruth says before changing into her clothes and grabbing her case before leaving the house. Thomas offers to drive her, but she declines and walks to her destination.
Finally, we see Michael enter his home, where he is immediately hug-attacked by his mother, Carol.
“How did you do? Did you get first place?” Carol asks, excitedly,
Michael is unable to talk due to being crushed by his mother’s bear hug, so he instead lifts up his first-place ribbon. His mother literally squeals with happiness and spends nearly ten full minutes giving every form of praise and compliment she can think of before finally stopping to catch her breath.
“Are your friends coming over today?” Carol asks
“Yes, Mom, in only a couple of minutes.” Michael responds, still very sore.
“Great! I’ll make some snacks.” Carol says before running into the kitchen.
Michael smiles, goes to his room, gets changed, and then goes to his garage to set some stuff up. He sets up an amplifier, some stage lights, and even a fog machine. He soon hears a knock on the metal garage door. Michael smiles before hitting a button, which causes the door to retract open, revealing four people.
George, Heather, Samantha, and Ruth. All holding instrument cases.
“Nice to see you all yet again. Are we all ready to rock?” Michael asks rhetorically, a big smile on his face.
