I used to be a very wealthy man.
I used to own a mansion. I owned cars people could only dream about. Islands, expensive shoes, and the newest tech. I used to be able to get any girl I wanted. And everybody around me was always jealous. I got the most expensive things on a menu’s of the most expensive restaurants. I was nearly untouchable.
Perhaps you've heard of me. Foster Clyde? No? Okay.
But in all my precious life, I have never been on a school bus.
I’m not even sure how I got there.
I just woke up in the backseat of a school bus. Houses and stores rolled by through the windows, under a torturing, summer sky. Kids that looked around my age sprawled in the seats in front of me, either on their phones or sleeping. The kids most definitely didn’t look like the type of people I preferred to surround myself with.
Seriously, is there anything more embarrassing than being on a school bus?
I sat up and rubbed my eyes, trying to think. My head ached and my body felt extremely sluggish, though that shouldn’t have been possible. I went to the gym four times a week just to stay fit.
My mind was clouded in thoughts, but a memory popped to the front of my brain —the voice of my mother: THE DAY WILL COME.
The thought of being poor gave me unbearable chills down my spine.
To think that I would be on a school bus with you —poor people —was unthinkable. Just the filth and the germs were enough to make me gag. How could anyone be comfortable sitting in a filthy bus? Imagine all the disgusting things someone could’ve possibly done to the seats. Picture a lot of kids rubbing on each other, spreading germs and diseases. Just being on the bus brought me great shame, loss of power, and left me vulnerable. I never would’ve thought that I would miss my butler, Bailey, but I missed him.
SAVE THE WORLD, my mother’s voice buzzed in my head.
“What?” I muttered. “What does that mean?”
I was left with no answer. To the right of me was a girl I assumed was… What’s the word I’m looking for… Goth? Emo?
I tried to remember how I got on the bus or the reason for me being on the school bus. Where was the bus taking me? What was going to happen to me after we reach our destination?
My mind was a little blurry. I could barely remember what my hundredth Lamborghini looked like, not to mention why I was on the bus. I did make a few insults to a guy, I thought. The guy did look like he was planning some evil things to do to me.
I dug my hands into both of my shorts pockets, hoping to fish out my wallet or the keys to one of my many cars. But I had no such luck. I looked under the seat, hoping it just fell out and was laying on the ground. Still nothing.
I did fish out a piece of ripped paper and read what was written. FOLLOW THE SUN TO THE GENTLE WIND.
Everything is going to be just fine, I told myself. Everything will eventually make sense and I will laugh the whole way back to my mansion.
The girl next to me tugged on my shirt. “Foster, you okay?”
I tried to look through the window so I ignore her, but even her reflection on the window was staring at me. I had no intention to have a conversation with the girl, but I needed to figure out where I was and What I was doing there. Plus, even the rich have to be polite.
“I’m quite not alright,” I said. “I seem to be on a school bus.”
The girl looked like she was less fortunate in life. Her black hair was long and choppy, with multiple colors as highlights —and her brown eyes glimmered in depression. She wore black eyeliner, with no lipstick. She wore a black tank top, white and black skirt, and boots. She looked like she shouldn’t be near anything sharp or something that could’ve been considered a weapon.
I had no experience with the Emo type. I have always surrounded myself with other rich people, who are well behaved, and know how to keep a respectful conversation, instead of some random thing. Throughout my seventeen years, I have noticed you—poor people—becoming more and more intelligent, though.
I don’t know how you poor people do it. You live trapped in debt and the lack of a good time. Many people want to become rich, but yet they think it’ll just be handed to them. It takes hard work and honesty to become rich, such as myself.
And now, I was just like you. Poor and thought about every little thing around me.
I dug through my pockets making sure my wallet wasn’t in them and groaned. No such luck. The thought of not having my money killed me in the inside, and what was even worse was the thought of someone stealing it while I was asleep. No one on the bus looked rich, so it could’ve been any one of the kids on the bus. (Yes, I’m aware that us rich people can steal. But we wouldn’t steal while someone was asleep. We’d do it in a smart and intelligent way.)
I glared out the window, watching trees and more houses pass us by. I would have preferred not to see cheap houses or the mess in front of the houses.
I took a deep breath. It’s not as bad as it seems, I told myself. It’s not like I’m being sent to my death.
The girl tugged on my shirt again. “Hey, Foster, how does it feel to be on a school bus? Or a place that isn’t rich? Huh?”
“It does not feel good, let me tell you.” I looked at her. “What is your name?”
She scowled at me. “None of your business.”
“Oh.” I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry, but have we met before?”
“No, we haven’t. I just know the type of person you are, and you disgust me.”
“I can assure you—”
In front of me, a boy turned around and sucked his teeth. “Don’t pay any attention to Jade. She gets mad at every rich person.”
“Caden!” Jade snapped.
Caden’s long black dreadlocks fell to his shoulders—and his eyes were light brown. He had a playful and childish face. He looked like a track star. His body was lean and powerful. He looked like the type of guy everyone was friends with. He wore a piercing on his right ear and had a tattoo of a yin and yang on his shoulder.
Also, on previous occasions when I remembered about my mother (Yes, she’s been in my head multiple times before), nothing good ever came out of it. I assumed terrible things were awaiting me now.
But I wasn’t going to let terrible thing happen to me, just because my mother popped up in my head.
I glanced out the window, staring at dorms and people walking in all directions. Some even sparing. I assumed that was our stop. (Surely, someone there had to know the real me, and the kind heart I had. Or what I was doing there, and where my money was.) I nearly squealed, as I watched a guy get punched in the jaw.
“I’ve been waiting for this,” Caden said. “I’m actually attending Hero Camp. This is amazing!”
I wanted to crawl into a corner, curl up into a ball, and cry my eyes out until it was completely dry. I have never woken up somewhere else, much less a school bus. My humiliation knew no limit.
I thought of how amusing it would be if I could go golfing, or if I could take a dive into my pool, which was always nice and cool.
“What exactly is this Hero Camp?” I looked at Caden. “And what am I doing here?”
Caden laughed. “What do you mean what is Hero Camp?” Caden’s smile faded. “Alright. Hero Camp is a place for us heroes to train and to chill. There are two other camps, but this camp tops them both. Only the strongest prospect come here, or heroes that can prove themselves. How do you not know Hero Camp?”
“Because he was too busy waving his money around,” Jade chided in. “What did you expect from him? He’s no hero.”
“I don’t recall signing up for the Military, or anything like that,” I said.
“What? Nah, no one did,” Caden said. “We’re talking about actual heroes. Powers and bad guys.”
“This is no time for jokes, Caden,” I cried.
Jade groaned. “If you paid attention to what was around you, instead of counting your stupid money, you’d realize there are such things as heroes.”
I slipped into a confusing state. I wasn’t sure if I should believe that there are such things as heroes, or if I die of laughter because truly there can’t be people with actual powers.
“Well, Jade…” I looked at her. “I can assure you I have much better things to do with my time, then counting my money.”
Jade groaned again, but longer. “Sure, whatever.”
She looked away from me.
What human being counts his money? Unless it’s a small amount. Counting my money would take years, and something I’d hate to do.
The statement Jade said, I found very amusing.
My money rested safely in a special bank account, in a special bank. I tried staring out the window to see if anyone was using powers. Nothing. Not someone shooting fire out their hands, someone with super strength, or any other super powers.
Many people have tried to steal my money, but all failed miserably. Some tried rubbing my bank. Some tried rubbing me in person. Some even kidnapped a person who was dear to me and threatened to kill them if I didn’t transfer my money to them.
“Jade?” Caden said. “Your attitude is terrible.”
“Good,” she croaked. “He deserves my attitude.”
“you’re so negative, Jade,” Caden said. “Why don’t you smile for once?”
Jade looked at Caden and raised an eyebrow like, Who are you talking to like that?
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