“Why don’t you go back to where you came from, huh?” one of the boys sneered.It was Marcus’s first day at Oakridge High. The Texas sun burned hot above the schoolyard, but the chill in the voices around him made him shiver. He was fourteen — new town, new school, new start — or so he had hoped. But within hours, he had become the target.A group of boys — blond, loud, dressed in crisp uniforms — had cornered him by the school gate. One shoved his shoulder; another kicked his backpack, spilling his books across the sidewalk.
“Can’t you even pick up your stuff, new kid?” one mocked.Marcus swallowed hard, bending to gather his things. “I don’t want any trouble,” he said quietly.That only made them laugh louder.The morning bus hissed away from the curb, leaving only the sound of jeering and the slap of sneakers against pavement. Marcus tried to stand tall, but another shove sent him sprawling. His math textbook hit the ground with a dull thud.
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