The Mystery Sitting Next To Me

A storm in a teacup that’s what this bubbling warm sensation was inside of me.


Out of all the things going on in my life it was the most ittiest and bittiest worry and yet to control my rage from this boy was insurmountable for me.


He was my desk mate and in a class like mine, in a school like mine; you could never just get up and move. Which is ironic, that here he sits next to me and does whatever shenanigans he pleases and no one so much as speaks a word to him.


Maybe that meant something, no one talking to him or questioning him. Was he a bit abnormal up there?


I had only just started at Bastion Academy this year, but everything else seemed to be as routine as their informercials and entry test suggested: polished, disciplined, uptight, academically focused boys from grade seven to twelve.


So what exactly made Riley Terese the exception from all these expectations?

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