"Watch it, freak."

Fletcher looked up and glared as he bent down to pick up his books. Although he couldn't see through the blurriness, he recognised those voices anywhere.

Gabriella Matsumoto, one of Kelly High's queen bees. She had her arm linked with her best friend, Sadie, whose irritated stare mirrored Gabriella's. They were practically inseparable and were almost completely alike.

Fletcher's known them since they were in grade school, like he knew almost everyone in his school. He knows who they are — pretty girls with pretty things, always getting more than what they asked for — and he knows who they will be — strangers with a diploma in their hands and, even if they struggle, they'll be as normal as they can be.

They had all the financial stability they would ever need. A part of Fletcher always envied them for it.

He raised his middle finger at them.

Sadie — assuming it was her — raised her hand, ready to slap Fletcher across the face, until someone stopped her.

"He didn't mean it," Thea said as she stood in between them. Sadie stared at Thea from head to toe then at Fletcher before she scoffed and walked away, dragging Gabriella with her.

When they were gone, Thea bend down next to Fletcher and helped him gather his things. To which, Fletcher couldn't help but say, "you shouldn't have intervened."

Thea ignored his question. "Why didn't you just tell them you couldn't see without your glasses?"

"It wouldn't have mattered."

"How could you be so sure?" Thea asked, looking at him right in the eye as she helped collect his things. "Maybe it would have."

Fletcher paused, then he said, "You're too nice."

Thea's lips quirked into another smile as she handed Fletcher his books. "You think so?"

"Yes," Fletcher said, gritting his teeth. "Annoyingly so."

Rolling his eyes, Fletcher turned around and walked away. But before he could fully submerge into the crowd, he heard Thea shout, "I'll see you later at lunch!"

When Fletcher turned back, she was gone.

—

The look on Mrs. Cuthbert's face showed true disappointment as she handed Fletcher his English test back. And in it, written it big red letters, was a C minus, which wouldn't be that bad if English wasn't his best subject.

It wasn't that Fletcher didn't study — well, technically he didn't but that was because he couldn't see the notes written on the board. He couldn't take a photo either since he didn't have a phone and God forbid he moved to the front — Mrs. Cuthbert always wanted students to stay in place during class times.

But that didn't stop her from calling him out after class.

"Fletcher, can I talk to you for a minute?" Looking around the room first, Fletcher walked towards her. When they were face to face, Mrs. Cuthbert sighed. "I have to say, I'm very upset with your latest test scores. You're one of my best students."

What was Fletcher suppose to say then? Oh, I'm sorry I couldn't read your notes because my parents don't have enough money to buy me new glasses?

She went on, "And I know it's easy to not care about your grades because you're young and 'it's cool' but you have great potential, Fletcher Greenly, and it would be such a waste to disregard it."

"Okay, Mrs. Cuthbert. I promise I'll do better."

Here's the thing with simple-minded people — they always think the answer's easy. So, it was better to keep his mouth shut, because they would never understand the the mechanics of Fletcher's twisted life.

—

Fletcher was surprised when his mum came home early this afternoon.

He barely ever sees his mother since she's always out working. She leaves the house at the crack of down and arrives a few minutes before midnight. And when Fletcher does see her, its either she's passed out on the couch — too tired to even drag her body to her bed — or arguing with his father.

They don't really talk much.

But she cares, in a way, about Fletcher. Though, most of the time, it gets easily shaded by how she uses him as an excuse to berate his dad — on how much he lacks as a father, a husband, a person — in hopes that he'll pick up his shattered pieces and get his shit together.

"I've got something for you," she said as she came in his room. Amongst the mess of papers on his desk, his mum put down a pair of glasses. "Thought you might need new ones."

Fletcher picked them up and — instead of wearing it — he examined. Since when did they have enough money to afford anything? They can barely pay the rent.

"Well come on now, put them on," she said when he didn't speak. Fletcher looked up at her, trying to outline her face through the blurriness and hint out the wrinkles on her forehead and the bags under eyes from all the hours she probably spent working to afford these glasses.

He put them on. Then his mum bent down, placed both her hands on his shoulders — and for the first in a long time — looked at him. "You look just like your father."

And it was probably the trick of the light, but instead of the corner of lips tugging into a soft smile, his mum frowned.