At 11:00 a.m.
Al strolled toward school. His classes still started in the afternoon—special sessions mixed with students who had morning commitments.
No brawls today. Moving at a slower, more relaxed pace wasn't a problem.
A few of the afternoon-class students had already arrived on their bikes and cars, throwing uneasy glances at Al.
Usually, one of them would offer him a ride, but lately? Al had been turning them down more often than not—for reasons no one really understood.
Al paid them no mind, continuing his leisurely stroll.
But just before reaching the school gate, at the usually quiet corner near the final bend, a group of teenage thugs suddenly blocked his path.
One of them had badly dyed blond hair, ripped jeans, and so much hair oil it smelled worse than diesel fuel.
"Heh, you're the kid who messed with Young Master Rudi yesterday, right?"
Al paused.
"Hmph? Which Young Master? And Who are You?"
