Orion's Rise: From Zero to Hero in Two Worlds

First period hadn't even started, and the hallway was already a mess.

Kids rushed around like they owned the place, backpacks swinging, phones out - you know how it goes. The usual Monday morning chaos at Winston High.

I was hanging by the water fountain, zoning out at the floor tiles. They made this weird zigzag pattern if you stared long enough. The janitor had just finished mopping, and the wet floor caught the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights above.

"Seriously? You're wearing that?"

I didn't have to look up.

Jared's voice had this way of slicing through all the noise. The bonehead was born with a megaphone in his throat. And yeah, he was definitely talking to me.

I kept walking, eyes glued to those tiles. One foot after another. Don't look up. Don't give him the satisfaction. Maybe if I just kept moving, he'd find someone else to torture.

"Hey, Sergio." His footsteps got closer, voice rising. "I'm talking to you. What, are you deaf or just stupid?"

The words tumbled out before I could stop them: "Both, I guess."

Biggest mistake ever.

WHAM! His fist grabbed my collar, yanking me to a stop, and my neck hurt like crazy. Oh God. His breath REEKED of those nasty breakfast burritos from the cafeteria.

"What'd you just say?"

"Nothing," I muttered, trying to squirm away. "It was nothing."

His laugh made my skin crawl. "Yeah, that's right. Nothing. Just like you."

His little gang of followers snickered behind him. Same old routine. Jared would throw out some insult, I'd try to ignore it, then he'd dial it up - make sure the whole hallway knew what a complete loser I was.

And there was Emily, hovering at the edges like always. Never joining in, but never stepping up either. Our eyes met for a split second before she ducked her head, suddenly fascinated by whatever was on her phone screen. Typical.

"Better get to class, moron," Jared shoved me forward. "Mrs. Kovač's gonna give you another lecture. Oh wait - you probably live for those, don't you? Highlight of your sad little day."

I didn't say anything back. What was the point? I just fixed my backpack and started walking to class, their laughter following me down the hall like some kind of messed-up soundtrack to my life.

***

I slunk into my seat at the back of Mrs. Kovač's classroom. World War II was on the menu today, and her voice kept fading in and out like some busted radio station I couldn't quite tune in to.

My sketchbook was burning a hole in my backpack. But with Jared's stupid head bobbing two rows ahead? No way. Last thing I needed was to give that jerk more ammunition.

Outside my window, clouds drifted by, lazy and free. Made me wish I could just float away with them. Anywhere but here, trapped in this same miserable routine day after day after day.

"Hey."

I jumped. Emily was leaning over, her eyes ping-ponging between me and Jared like she was scared he might catch her talking to the class loser.

"You okay?"

Her voice had that tone - you know the one. Like when someone feels just guilty enough to say something, but not guilty enough to actually help.

I shrugged. Had to watch my words carefully - say nothing and I'm pathetic, say too much and I'm asking for it. "Yeah. Whatever."

She chewed her lip. "Look, about Jared... he's just-"

"Being Jared," I cut in. "Yeah, I got the memo."

Her mouth did that thing where she squishes her lips together, like she's trying to keep words from spilling out. I could see she wanted to play nice, but that wall between us was too high now. She'd helped stack those bricks herself, one by one.

"Just... take care, okay?" she whispered, retreating back to her desk and cracking open her notebook.

"Sure," I mumbled, turning back to those clouds. Take care. The universal cop-out when you've got nothing real to say. Like it's that easy.

When the bell rang, I bolted before Jared could think up round two. The courtyard was calling my name - my hideout, the one place I could actually breathe.

There's this broken-down fountain there. Barely works anymore, just kind of dribbles water. Not exactly I*******m material, but it was quiet. And right then, quiet was all I wanted.

I perched on the fountain's edge and pulled out my sketchbook. Drawing was the only thing making sense these days. My pencil found its groove, sketching out a dragon's head, some beat-up knight's armor. Nothing special, just fragments of some world where I wasn't such a nobody.

"Well, what've we got here?"

My gut twisted. Jared. Because of course he'd tracked me down.

I tried to slam the book shut, but he was quicker. Ripped it right out of my hands.

"Give it back." My voice came out all wrong - like some scared little kid's.

He flipped through the pages, that stupid smirk plastered on his face. "What's all this? You still wasting time with these stupid doodles, Sergio?"

"They're not stupid," I said, standing up. "Just... give it back."

"Not stupid?" He waved one of my drawings at his cronies. "Get a load of this. Dragons? Seriously? What are you, some kindergartener?"

His friends cracked up. My face felt like it was on fire. The words were stuck somewhere in my throat. And I knew if I tried talking, they'd just come out wrong anyway.

Jared kept flipping pages, his grin getting nastier by the second. "Stick to stick figures next time, Sergio. At least those wouldn't be this embarrassing."

I stood there with my fists clenched, knowing better than to try grabbing it. That would just make everything ten times worse.

Then his eyes got that look - the one that meant he'd just had one of his brilliant ideas. He glanced at the fountain, then back at my sketchbook. "You know what? I think your 'art' needs a little bath, don't you?"

"Jared, don't-" But I might as well have been talking to a brick wall.

SPLASH!

Just like that, my sketchbook hit the water. Hours of work dissolving into nothing but soggy paper and running ink.

***

Jared stood there howling with laughter, clapping like he'd just pulled off some genius prank. "Whoops. Guess you'll need to start over, huh?"

I couldn't even move. Just stood there watching my sketchbook bob in that nasty fountain water. Part of me wanted to fish it out, but what was the point? The damage was done.

"Aw, don't look so broken up about it," Jared mocked, his voice dripping with fake concern that made my stomach turn. "Just some dumb drawings. Not like they were worth anything anyway."

You know that feeling when something's about to explode inside you? Like when you shake up a Coke can too much? That's what was happening in my chest. All this rage and hurt and... I don't even know what else. But mostly? Just felt powerless. Always powerless.

Because that's how the story went. Jared did whatever he felt like, and I just... took it.

He shoved me one last time. "Come on," he called to his crew. "This is getting old. Let's bounce."

Their laughter faded down the courtyard. It kept replaying in my head like some awful song stuck on repeat, and it hurts. So much.

I couldn't stop staring at the fountain. At my sketchbook just drifting there, pages getting heavier and heavier as they soaked up water. My hands wouldn't stop shaking so much, and I couldn't tell if it was from anger or... something worse.

"Orion?"

I spun around. Emily was standing there, hanging back a few feet. Her face had this expression I couldn't quite figure out.

She looked at the fountain, then back at me. "I-" Her voice was barely a whisper. "I'm sorry."

I just stared at her, waiting for something more. But that was it. Just another empty "sorry" that meant absolutely nothing. Same garbage I'd heard a thousand times before.

The lump in my throat felt like it was trying to choke me. No. I shook my head abit. "Yeah," I muttered. "Me too."

She started to say something else, but I was already walking away, trying to ignore how my shoes made these pathetic squelching sounds from all the splashed water.

"Orion, wait-" she called after me.

But I kept going. I was done with apologies. Done with all of it.

Just needed to get away. Away from Jared, away from Emily, away from that stupid fountain with my ruined art floating in it.

You know what really killed me though? Tomorrow would be the exact same story. Different day, same garbage. And yeah, I'd probably bring another sketchbook, because what else was I supposed to do? It was the only thing that made any of this mess halfway bearable.

Why? Just... why did everything have to be like this?