It wasn’t so bad. Sure, the heat was supposedly a bit unusual this time of year, but it didn’t make much of a difference to Ken anyway. He actually considered it nice and cool. However, as he meandered slowly up to the school, he noticed that the rest of the student body didn’t appear to agree.

“Why is it so hot outside?” A girl in his homeroom was complaining to one of her friends, “It’s nearly winter. We need a break.” As Ken walked away, backpack slung over one shoulder, he heard the other girl agree whole-heartedly.

“What wimps,” he mumbled to himself, rolling his eyes. His steps barely increased their speed as the warning bell rang, and he had just set down his backpack on his desk when the tardy bell went off. As he slouched into his own chair, he looked towards the desk to his right, sighing when he saw it empty. This had to be the fifth time this month Cory was late, and it was only the second week into December. That kid needed to learn to set an alarm or something.

“Kenneth, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop spacing out,” Mr. Filter said, peering at Ken through thick glasses. The English teacher’s wispy hair, thick-lensed glasses, and chubby build gave the stereotypical look of 40-year-old geek living in his parent’s basement.

“Two things, Mr. Filter,” Ken snapped back, not at all in the mood for a berating, “It’s Ken not Kenneth. And you haven’t even started yet.”

“If you hadn’t noticed, there are notes for you on the board. And as for your name, Ken is the short form of Kenneth. I choose to use your proper name.”

“But my name isn’t Kenneth. It’s just Ken.” Ken said, using a voice that adults used when talking to small children.

“You sure you aren’t named after Barbie’s pimp?” Someone muttered, causing snickers to rise from otherwise sleepy classmates.

“Shut up!” Ken growled, twisting around to find the offender. His unnaturally bright green eyes were alight with anger.

“Mr. Wellson, that is ENOUGH from you!” Mr. Filter straightened up, thinking it appeared intimidating. Ken glared at the nerdy adult as he continued, “Your behavior since coming here has been unacceptable, and I’m sick of it! I want to talk to you after cla-“

“Sorry for being late, Mr. Filter!” Cory shouted as the door swung open and hit the wall with a bang. He was panting, his shaggy hair falling into his face as he doubled over, “You see, this old lady needed help crossing the street, and I...” He trailed off, perhaps sensing the atmosphere of the room.

“Cory...” Mr. Filter had lowered his head and was shaking it slowly, “Just sit down. You’re a good student, but stop with the excuses and the tardiness.” Cory nodded sheepishly and took his seat, artfully ignoring the sniggers that echoed around the room. Ken turned around to silence them, when the teacher continued, “I haven’t forgotten about you, Ken. You still need to stay after class.”

XOXOX

“So, what did Mr. Filter say?” Cory asked, taking the seat next to Ken at the lunch table. First period had long since ended, and Cory hadn’t been able to ask Ken about what happened for a couple hours, seeing as they had only English together. As his friend waited, Ken removed the fudge bar in his mouth, and paused a moment for to allow his tongue to thaw.

“I got a detention,” He remarked casually.

“What?! Why?”

“Apparently it’s against the rules to correct mistakes now. But whatever. It’s only a detention.”

“Did you get a detention at your last school?” Cory asked, hoping the question seemed natural, even though he’d been dying to ask more about where Ken had come from.

Ken’s eyes slid over to his classmate, not fooled a bit, “I wasn’t even there a full year. And the teachers there were less...grumpy, from what I remember.” Cory snickered.

“You never did say why you moved here mid-semester,” Cory prodded, considering the last question a success.

“I don’t really know why myself,” Ken said with a shrug, “My dad said a job transfer, but I don’t know... There always seems to be another reason...” He trailed off, and Cory thought he was going to say more until the fudge bar went back into Ken’s mouth.

The comfortable silence between the two lasted the rest of the lunch. As the bell rang for their return to class, Cory started and turned to Ken, “When’s your detention?”

“Tomorrow. Thanks for reminding me,” Ken glared at Cory, who smiled guiltily before hurrying to class.

XOXOX

The sun was still high in the sky when Ken began his walk home. Over the day, a small breeze had developed, and it now lazily lifted the black hair from Ken’s face as he steadily trod onward, feeling grateful for every inch of distance that grew between him and that brick hell. However, before he was far enough away, four people stepped around him and lined up in his path, making a human wall.

Ken slowed to a stop, examining the boys. Not this again... he thought wearily to himself.

“Hey. Move.” He growled.

“Make us, Jell-o eyes.” One of them said. The others grunted with approval.

“This is getting really old,” Ken sighed. Ever since his first day mid-November, these goons had insisted on insulting him as he walked home. Pretty soon, it had grown to this. Ken was beginning to wonder when they’d get bored with it.

“I haven’t been able to say hello to Jell-o yet.” Their leader, Brian, mocked as he stepped closer.

“Your breath stinks, “ Ken sneered and took a step away, only to bump into someone behind him. Before he knew it, his arms were pinned tightly to his sides, and Brian had a balled fist aimed at his face. Roll with it he reminded himself. As soon as the words crossed his mind, the punch was thrown, and an unprepared Ken felt his face snap to the side. The punch had hit his eye, and he felt it swell. Ignoring the pain, Ken tried to jerk away, but the hands tightened around him and he felt even more take hold.

“Let go of me, dammit!” Ken shouted, “You’re a freakin’ coward if you need me held down to punch me!”

“I’m no coward!” Brian screamed, and another punch hit Ken’s other eye. Better prepared, he rolled with it this time. It was still swelling, but not as badly as the other.

“God, you piss me off!” Brian shouted as Ken turned to face him.

“Why?” More jerking. More tightening.

“Your freaking mouth,” a fist hit his lips, then his jaw. He could now taste blood in his mouth. Ken felt his eyes narrow with anger and pain. Then profanity and flecks of blood were flying from his mouth.

“Shut up,” another fist beneath his chin, and Ken’s head was flying up, blood surfacing from where he had bitten his tongue, “You think you’re so bad-ass all the time. Everyone hates you. We’re just representing ‘em.”

“I think it’s the other way around,” Ken worked out, trying to ignore his tongue.

“WHAT WAS THAT!” Brian screeched, “I swear I’m gonna...”

“What’s going on here?” A calm voice stated from behind Ken. He felt the hands on him drop. His support suddenly gone, Ken fell to the ground, barely able to catch himself before he smashed into the concrete.

“Come back you cowards!” He tried shouting, but it was cut short by an, “Enough.”

Ken paused, standing up and facing his savior. A very muscular man greeted him, shades on his eyes, ragged, all-black clothes, and a prickly face. Cool, yet rough. “Are you alright?” the man spoke.

“Yeah. Uh...Thanks...” The boy mumbled, highly aware of his beaten appearance.

“No problem. Need a walk home?”

“No, I can handle that at least,” Ken said. With that, he turned about and walked slowly off. His parent’s reactions to this wouldn’t be fun at all.

XOXOX

“He has been found,” The voice echoed around the dark room.

“About time,” another said. It had a higher pitch than the first, but was still obviously male, “This goose chase has grown tiresome.”

“Yes,” the first agreed, “What are your instructions?”

“Get him tomorrow.” A third spoke out. The voice was smooth yet rough, high yet low. “Alive. You may use any tools, as long as he’s brought back alive.”

“Alive. Gotcha.” The second voice said airily, while the first responded with a respectful, “Yes sir!”

“Good. And remember; don’t let anyone else see you.”

Thanks to my editor, who looked through this and pointed out mistakes before I put it up. Thanks to my friends. And thanks to the people who read this!

And also, the name might change at any time. That’s the thing I’m the worst at: thinking of good names.