Life on the coast was bearable. The sun would shine every morning, the waters would splash on the shore, and the wind would blow your hats off. Tourism was common around the summer, too. Your life began here.

Parents, children—they all knew each other, and were close. In a small town, you only had their neighbor and their neighbors to rely on; nobody else. If you were enemies with one, you may have been enemies with all. Because of these circumstances, you tread lightly to not ruin your reputation. Your parents were already frowned upon, for they worked multiple jobs. Ever since you discovered this, when you were six, a promise became ingrained into your mind that you would turn out better than them.

The enormous playground near your apartment complex was where you socialized often as a child. Kids swung on swings, slid on slides, and walked on walkways. In every corner and playarea composed of multiple cliques in the city. Mama's boys. Aspring athletes. Rude kids. It was encouraged to stay within your people, of course, but some left the pack.

Draco lived in a different complex, though, but you had known everything about him. He was mean, but somehow someone to look up to. Confidence, you had wanted, but it never seemed to stay in your hands. As you approached him, wanting to start a conversation, he eyed you intimidatingly.

"Who's nutcase is this?"

Originally you were part of the quiet clique, but once you felt your back on the harsh wood chips by the hands of Draco, you did not belong anywhere.

Now it was highschool. Biology class was not your forte. And everyone avoided you. In the front of the room was your teacher, who was choosing partners on the board. Your name was next to Draco's. As you two sat in the corner (by his weird choice) he immediately grumbled.

"Had to be put with the weird kid, damn it . . . you can just do all the work, alright?"

The glare he gave you was unforgiving. You hadn't interacted with him since the incident years ago. What now?