I Know Who I Am, Father-in-law.

Friends.

Chapter 3.

Friends.

Mrs Adams's heart wouldn't let her leave the poor guy there looking so stranded and homeless. He looked nothing like the Moore she had met, and she doubted whether he was even one of them.

That was clarified when two cars drove into the compound, stealing people's attention. They were of the same brand, and Elvis had noticed that kind of car in the mansion when he was leaving. He had also read the name on it: 'Bugatti Centodieci', and the other side, 'Moore'.

The cars were stopped just a bit away from Elvis and he watched along with some other students who were dressed in flashy outfits and were with flashy phones for videos and pictures.

"It's Camila Moore and her brother, Evans, he dropped her in school again!" The students all gasped when Camila stepped outside with Evans holding onto her delicately like an egg.

Their eyes ran into Elvis's frame as soon as they stepped out of the car.

"Seriously? Can't I not see him around forever?" Camila groaned frustratedly. She hated seeing Elvis so much, and she desperately wanted to believe that he was not in existence in her life.

Evans saw his sister's madness and pushed towards Elvis, "How dare you show your face here?"

"I... I didn't." Elvis stuttered. He was intimidated by Evans's glare, though Evans was not as tall as him.

"You can still talk?"

"Yes, I..."

Evans punched his nose, shutting him up. All the books Elvis was holding slipped out of his grip, and everything hit the floor as he staggered from the impact of the punch and bled.

Evans had not had enough, he grabbed his collar, pulling him to the same height as he, "Do you think you're equal to us because you live in our house, you're not! You're equivalent to a homeless man, and my father is only helping your sorry butt for his gain."

Elvis's hurting nose wouldn't let him talk. He would have made it known to Evans that Jordan Moore liked him genuinely.

Even with his silence, Evans could guess what was on his mind. He chuckled and pushed him to the floor, "You must be thinking that I'm lying, but let me be clear to you: you're nothing to my father. If I kill you right now, he will only mourn because his money bag is dead and nothing more. Don't worry, I'll prove that to you when you get yourself to the mansion."

Evans stood upright and walked away, kicking Elvis's books away as he did.

He had just opened the students' eyes to Elvis, a weakling to be bullied. He knew exactly what he had done, and he didn't mind.

He couldn't wait for him to get home though.

Elvis held his broken nose and tried to stop the bleeding but couldn't stop it. The blood kept escaping, and the sight of his blood brought tears to his eyes, which he kept in, blinking his eyes at intervals to prevent him from being seen crying.

The blood didn't stop. He covered the nose with one hand and tried to pack his scattered books with the other which was difficult, for students were moving around and stepping on the books.

Sammy couldn't watch it any longer, so he moved closer to Elvis, who was on the floor. With no further word said, he bent over and began to help with the books, adding them to his books, and he carried them all.

Elvis was grateful, he stood up and appreciated Sammy, "Thank you."

"It's okay. You should see a nurse."

Elvis nodded, and they began to walk away together.

Mrs Adams watched them for a while before turning around and returning to where her car was packed. She dropped Sammy's books on the passenger's seat before zooming out of the school at full speed.

Elvis got to the infirmary building with Sammy. They were able to locate the place, all thanks to the school map, which was part of the things they found in the locker.

"Where is your student's card?" A nurse questioned Elvis.

Sammy helped him with it, and the nurse stared at his name, "Your medications are not paid for with the school fees."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sammy inquired from the nurse.

"It means that he cannot be treated here without him paying for the treatment."

"And how much is that?"

"Hold on, I'll administer him first." The nurse did as she said. She checked Elvis's wounds before answering Sammy, "We will have to fix his broken nose, bandage his arm, which he must have fallen on, and he would have to keep coming here for daily examination. All together, that is like $300000."

"What?!" Elvis gasped then groaned when pain hit him.

"Hey, I'll advise you to keep it calm." Said the nurse to him.

Sammy patted his shoulder and faced the nurse. He stretched his student ID to her, "Can he be treated with my card?"

She collected his card, checked it, and then nodded, "Yes, though your card has some restrictions, you can only use it for treatment five times."

"Then, let's make this the first one."

Elvis stared at Sammy and shook his head, telling him no, but Sammy smiled at him, "Don't worry, I don't get sick often, trust me."

Elvis was laid on the bed, and he was to get the treatment when Sammy excused himself to check out the lectures of the day and perhaps to get the lecture timetable if there would be one.

He didn't take a long time to find their faculty. He was very good with map reading, but he couldn't guess the class to go to. He met up with a group of students discussing among themselves, so he went to them, "Hi."

They sized him up from his head to his feet and back. Seeing his expensive outfit, he was questioned. "Who do you know?"

That was a question that seemed to be on everyone's lips. Who do you know? Which family are you from? Any questions relating to those? Yes.

Everyone in the school had to know someone among the first five leading families in the world or, better still, be a part of that family. The higher the family you know, the higher the respect you're given.

"I know no one, but my mum works with the Klein...." He said to them and completed the rest of the words in his mind, "As a cleaner."

He knew if he had completed that, he might not survived the school. He also promised Mrs Adams that he would say something of sorts to no one, not even in his subconsciousness.

"Oh! Klein? I know their son too, Vince, he was my best friend before he went missing."

"I know him, too," Sammy muttered.

That was not a lie, he was a playmate of Vince Klein when he was young, but when he grew older, Mrs Adams was transferred to NYC, and he stopped seeing Vince, and now, he knew not where Vince was.

"That's by the way. Do you know where the first-year law students are having their lecture?" Sammy questioned the boys.

"Yes, I think it's FL 6. It's in that building, upstairs." The building was pointed at for Sammy.

"Thanks, guys."

They bumped knuckles and he walked away towards the lecture hall that was described to him.

He made to enter the room when the door opened to reveal a lecturer going out. He stared silently at Sammy before walking away.

Sammy entered, and the hall looked still composed, like someone powerful was inside, but no, no one of such was in the hall.

He ignored the strange eyes on him before moving towards a girl who was sitting silently alone by a side. Though she was sitting silently, she didn't look like it.

Her hair was white and black, and right there in the hall, she was painting her nails black. She was doing it so neatly that one could tell that she must have done it countless times.

"Hi." Sammy began.

She only spared him a glance, "What?" She was neither rude nor polite. Just perfect for someone who didn't want her peace to be disturbed with her legs dangling lazily on the table.

"I'm on the same level as you. Can I get the previous notes and the timetable as well?"

"Do I look like one who writes?"

"No," Sammy admitted.

She spared him a glance again before reaching for the pile of notes on her table, she threw everything on the table closer to Sammy, "Help yourself."

Sammy took the books one after the other and began to snap the scribbled words with his phone. He found the timetable as well, and the hall locations of each course were on the timetable and its time.

When he was done, he pushed the books back to the girl, and muttered to her hearing, "Your attitude sucks, but your handwriting is nothing like it." Then he walked away without looking back.

"Hey! Is that a thank you or an abuse?" She yelled after him, but no response came except the dust from Sammy's shoes. "Damn him!"

Sammy returned to the infirmary and into the ward, he left Elvis. Instead of meeting Elvis there, he was met with a different face, one void of any sort of growth of moustache or beards, one so smooth, handsome and clean, though a little too slim, and with a bandaged nose and small other bandages on his cheeks.

He faced the nurse, "Where's Elvis? Did you relocate him?"

The nurse shook her head, "No, Mr Adams, this guy on the bed is your friend, Mr Elvis."

"What did you do to him?" He mused.

"Nothing, just a rough shave."

Sammy wouldn't close his mouth, he was overly astonished that he drooled.

Elvis's insecurities kicked in when he saw Sammy's expression, "Is it that bad?"

Sammy got himself and pulled himself together, "No, no, man! You look handsome, and now I want your hairy face back. You'll steal all the girls in school."

Elvis was not convinced. He decided to drop the topic anyway. "I better return home. I don't want to be late. Also, I don't want to go to classes with a face with wounds."

"Alright, should I call Mum to pick us up?" Sammy suggested.

"No, that won't be necessary, I can trek home."

Elvis was let go from the hospital. Sammy made himself useful. He helped him with some of his books, and then he found a cab to take them home.

"Where is your phone? I should transfer the notes to you so that you can copy everything."

Elvis shook his head, "A phone? I don't have something like that."

"You don't? Wow! That's strange." Sammy slid his phone to a particular picture he had taken and showed it to Elvis, "We have an assignment on our first day."

Elvis was not surprised because of the assignment, he was surprised by the phone. It was like a miracle to him. A flat, small thing followed instructions with just a few presses here and there.

He wished to own one immediately, but he didn't know if he could.

"Have you seen the question?" Sammy's question brought him back to life.

His lashes flapped together vigorously and he smiled sheepishly, "What were you saying?"

"The assignment," Sammy waved his phone before Elvis, "You should write it down so that you can do it in your leisure time or maybe at night."

"Oh, yes."

Elvis took the phone overly carefully and opened one of the big notes with him, he began to copy the assignment slowly.

"Do you often write this slow or are you just being playful?"

Elvis glanced at the pen strangely before turning to Sammy, "I don't know. I'm just trying to get familiar with this thing, it feels weird, yet familiar."

"Okay. You know what? Since you have no phone, I'll just take some of your notes home to copy for you so that you will have no excuse to fall behind."

Elvis chuckled and nodded with no argument, "Thank you."

'He's good.' Elvis said in his mind, 'I'm keeping him.'