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“Look who it is, if it isn’t our boy Quentin. You are finally sprucing up the old homestead? Hold on, if you had any real cash, you’d
fix that leaky roof of yours first. Your clothes always reek of mildew, and no one wants to share a desk with you.” That rich kid
swung his car door open, his gaze arrogantly sweeping over the pickup truck loaded with supplies. “Tell me, Quentin, how do you
plan to pay off all this stuff on credit? Even if you sold those little beggars you hang out with, I bet you couldn’t afford half this
load.” The rich kid crossed his arms, a smirk curling up his lips. His eyes finally landed on Maja, brightening momentarily before
his sneer returned. “So, what’s this? Another girl taken in by that face of yours? Seems you never learn, do you? The prom
queen was nice to you, and you shamelessly asked her out. And what happened? She was just toying with you. What good are
grades, anyway?” While he ranted, he cast an envious glance at Quentin’s neck, as if trying to burn a hole through him. Quentin
was the first student in years to break into the island’s top ten rankings. The school had been hoisting big red congratulatory
reached out towards Maja, “But I gotta admit, the one who’s come sniffing around you this time is pretty cute. Which school does
she go to?” Maja’s lips twitched, torn between delight and outrage. She swatted the rich kid’s hand away. His face twisted in
anger, “Damn! When I throw you a bone, you should be grateful! Do you have any idea how many girls would kill to be in your
shoes? The crumbs from my table could lift you nobodies out of obscurity!” Another voice chimed in from inside the car, “Wade
Brennan, do you fancy her or something?” The rich kid spat out in disgust, tossing a few twenty-dollar bills on the ground. “Take
a good look at this, sweetheart. You really think sticking with poor boy Quentin is your best bet? I tell you, the moment I leave,
you’ll be crying to get with me.” Maja’s brows furrowed at his words. Quentin moved to step forward, but she grabbed him. The
rich kid grew bolder at the sight, “Pfft! What a wimp. What do you think you’re doing? Don’t you know that the dump you call
home is property of my family? With a snap of my fingers, I could have your whole clan kicked out! And you dare glare at me,
you mongrel!” He slapped Quentin across the face. Quentin’s head jerked to the side, his mouth bloody, but he remained silent.
The rich kid seemed to deflate a bit with his anger vented, and he stepped back into his car. As he rolled up the window, he spat
one more time for good measure. The roar of the car engine faded into the distance, and Maja turned to look at Quentin’s face.
Boys at his age are usually proud. Yet here he was, quietly wiping the blood from his corner of his mouth, clearly not his first time
being bullied. The rich kid’s slap had been expertly delivered. Maja offered Quentin a tissue. He looked up, his eyes a quiet
storm of emotions, and she felt a pang of sympathy. Quentin’s
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sole belief in life was to study hard, top his class, and someday make it to Middle Island or Inner Island, to provide for his family.
But after fighting for years, he was hit with the harsh truth. His academic achievements wouldn’t just fail to lift his family out of
poverty—they might not even save his own life. Anyone would struggle to cope with that, and it was clear he wasn’t just bullied
here, but at school too. The more backwater the place, the more arrogant the rich, and there were definitely more like the rich kid
out there. Maja watched Quentin’s tear-filled eyes and clenched fist, hanging at his side, and sensed his effort to contain
something deep. He was, after all, only seventeen. Taking a deep breath, she pulled out another tissue to dab at his bleeding lip.
“How much is that Wade guy actually worth?” “Maybe fifty million, I guess.” It was a number Quentin could scarcely dream of, as
people like him make a few hundred a month. Even after graduating from college, they’d be lucky to make two thousands a
month, and that was the ceiling. Outer Island had but one high school and one college. And while the money the rich kid
carelessly threw, even if meant to humiliate, amounted to two months of Quentin’s wages, he had no choice but to pick it up, bill
by bill, bowing his head.
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