Present Day

With his door closed and window shade drawn, it kept the room dark as night. The scent of automobile exhaust filled the house. That occurred whenever their neighbors backed out of their driveways. He ran his hand over his ribcage. They stuck out more each day. He spent weeks conversing with Hope. Their distance delay had reached four minutes.

She kept sending him messages in the middle of the night, crying after waking up from nightmares about losing him and his parents. He wished he could help her, but could not because he was millions of miles away. This reminded him of his parents. He could not think about her without remembering them and that they were dead. He stared at his pillow cover with Hope and him

Maggie entered his room, filling the room with daylight, and sat on his bed. "Good morning, Cole. Today is the first day of school!" She stated.

"Already?" Cole groaned.

"I know you're still upset about what happened, but you will get over it soon."

"I'm not going to get over it!" Still undecided on if he was madder because his parents died, or because they made him live here. "I hate you for making me stay."

He always credited Hope for keeping his focus and giving him purpose. His mom was equally responsible. She also helped him when he required anything and guided him if he lost his way, which might be the reason he had not considered eating or showering since.

"If they would have listened, they'd still be alive," Maggie said.

"Every second that I am here reminds me that they are dead."

His uncle stormed into his room, over to Cole, lifted him out of his bed., and said, "How many times have we argued about this? You can NOT go to Mars. You have to go to a public school with regular kids."

Mars was his reason for living.

Was it?

His desire to accomplish that was still strong.

"Top three Cole, we believe in you," he remembered his mom saying that to him. He had already accomplished that goal. Yet, he remained here without his mom or dad.

"I cannot go to Mars if I go to a public school. I have to go to one of the Bettencourt Prep schools. I know they'll take me."

Did he really want to do that again? Alone? Yes. He refused to stay on Earth.

"You will go to a normal school. You need to get on with your life after sitting there for months."

"Mars is my life!"

"Not anymore!"

Cole marched out of the house, fuming, slammed the door, and stomped on a gnome, crushing its hollow skull on his departure.

"If you don't go, we will call the police to take you there," his uncle said, shouting.

"Fine. I'll go." He marched toward the forest preserve that he spotted in the distance.

His viewer in his pocket vibrated.

He did not answer it. They had driven past the school on the way in. It was two blocks away. Although, this morning, he went the long route to blow off steam, but it did not help, it only agitated him more. He despised everything about his uncle's town and barely legal girlfriend.

Two minutes later. It vibrated again. He inspected it.

Hope: View my message and respond!

He could not help her anymore. He must solve his problems first. Her parents were still alive.

"You are not being a good best friend." He recalled Maria Gonzalez telling him.

She could rot in hell, too.

He did not know what to do. He had to go to Mars, but without Bett Prep and his parents, he would have to graduate high school, then college, earn a degree, and beg for a job at Bettencourt Enterprises. The soonest he could, would be years, maybe a decade.

He completed his gravel-path stroll through the trees when the path stopped and exited next to the school. A squirrel darted by his feet and then rustled in the dead leaves on his other side. If he had gotten lost, he would have kept going, but since he ended up here, he continued toward the small school. His gravel road changed to an old, broken concrete sidewalk. The aroma of burnt plastic and popped sweet corn permeated the air. It would come and go based on the direction of the wind. There were many factories closer to the downtown area, although he could not see them from here. He could not fathom how this town would pass any government pollution tests.

A long rusted-out bike rack with several bicycles appeared on his left. Green grass fields surrounded the school. Soccer posts were near the back and a baseball field was in the middle. The school stood in front of him. Dark brown brick walls were on the outside with several white windowpanes on each side of the entrance with tall see-through glass doors and blue framing. White letters spelled out River Road High School.

A heavy-set older woman with graying brown, stringy hair waited outside for him in the entryway. She wore a blue full-length skirt and light blue full-length collared shirt with gym shoes. "Colton Donaldson, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Dr. Flowers and welcome to River Road High School."

He did not expect a welcoming committee. He glanced at her and should have replied with thank you, but what was the point?

"It is a pleasure to have such an esteemed student at our school." The principal shook his hand. "I am also very sorry for your loss, and if you require anything, please come see me immediately."

Cole nodded. Every second of his life ached, and he had lost all reason to carry on. Yet, anything he said to the principal would immediately repeat back to his uncle, so she could not help. No one could. The principal guided him to his class. The hallways were empty, and their footsteps echoed.

He entered a classroom and a muscular older black man greeted him.

"Hello, Cole." He did not like it when people that he had never met already knew his name. "Welcome, Cole. My name is Anthony Jackson. Most people call me Mr. Jackson," he said. He wore long khaki pants and a white, collared, short-sleeve shirt. "I am also the football coach."

He placed his arm over his shoulder and stated, "Good Morning class, welcome back for your senior year. We have a new student. His name is Colton Donaldson."

"Cole Donaldson. His parents died in the G.L.T.." a perky fake blonde-haired girl wearing a cheerleader outfit whispered from the front row.

Cole nodded, then sat in the only empty seat in the back.

Mr. Jackson stated, "I would like to begin with a review of last year's work before we begin. Please open your books to Page eleven. We will do the Sample Questions."

The class opened their books.

"Number 1. If Susan has 202 ounces of flour, but needs to 101 ounces to make each cake. How many cakes can she make?"

Two. That question was easy.

The rest of the class was silent.

A blonde-haired girl in the back raised her hand. "Two hundred?"

"No. Sorry. This should be a review for you guys. How did you get two hundred Sara? Please come to the board and show me your work.'

Hope would have raised her hand instantly, ending this silliness.

He shifted to his left and held up two fingers to the person seated next to him, but Hope did not sit there. Instead, an attractive young woman with long straight, purple-hair winked at him and whispered, "Hey, Cole." She flipped her hair and grinned at him, and he noticed she had shaved her head all the way around. Black eye shadow, thin, model-like silky flawless skin, brown eyebrows, and dark brown eyes. Her face did not match her hair.

He glanced at the second question. The answer was nine. He signed the answer to her. The answer to the third question was thirty-three. He signed that too.

"There you go, now you got it! The teacher encouraged the student at the front of the class."

He did not belong here and if he stayed for one more second; he was going to take it out on these poor people. He gazed at the girl next to him, still not Hope. My parents are dead and every second of this is pointless. He could not continue anymore, and he wished he had never existed.

He mimed putting a gun to his head and squeezed it. Then he rose out of his seat and marched out of the classroom.

"Hey! Where are you going?" His teacher asked.

Cole went outside and headed back to the crushed gravel path that had taken him here. He cut his hand on the rusted bicycle rack. Blood trickled down his hand. His family used to go on hikes like this with Hope and her parents for fun. When they were together, he felt at home and content. Those moments would never happen again. The trail inclined, trees surrounded him. He tasted the salty tears that streaked his face, and he heard the rushing water of the distant river. He had become sick and tired of being sad and alone.

He joked to himself that if he sank to the bottom permanently, they could no longer force him to go to that stupid school. That would work. It would also stop his mind from continuously replaying the memory of him hunting through the dead until he found his parents' lifeless bodies. Not to mention, watching and hearing the screams from hundreds of people that surrounded him, then being ripped away from Hope and her parents. He must escape His own living Hell. Sinking to the bottom seemed like a win-win situation. The promise of his relief carried him forward up the winding path. It did not take long before he reached the end of the road.

Cole poised himself at the top of a concrete dam. He knew he could redo his last year since he was younger when he started. Dr. Bettencourt would let him return. Yet he had already gone to school with Hope. He studied, trained, and passed the tests.

For what?

Nothing.

He needed a release from feeling anything ever again. He had done far too much of that since ...

He tossed his viewer over. It smashed on the spiked boulders below and washed away down the rushing rapids. He could not see any reason to fight. None of his old dreams mattered. He reached the edge with half of his shoe hanging over, bent his knees, and leapt.