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Chapter 1 - Trice rough upbringing

He wakes up before the sun.The apartment is cold. The lightbulb flickers. His cereal is stale. No milk.

He hums a tune while eating it anyway. His legs swing under the chair.He's wearing his best shirt—one of the buttons is missing, but he doesn't care. Today, he's gonna make a friend.

His mom left a note on the fridge.

Double shift. Dad's appointment later. Don't cause trouble, okay? We love you.

He smiles.Even if he hasn't seen her awake in three days.

At School

He walks into class.There's a group of kids playing cards, another group joking around. Trice walks up, clutching his notebook like a shield.

"Hey, what're you playing?" he asks with a soft grin.

Silence.

Then a snort.

"You don't got nobody to sit with again?""Nah, leave him. That's the homeless kid, remember?""He talks to his drawings."

Someone slaps the notebook out of his hands. Pages scatter like dead birds.

Trice blinks. Bends down.He starts picking them up, trying to hide his hands shaking.

Someone kicks him in the ribs while he's crouched.Then again.

He gasps. Doesn't cry. Just breathes heavy.

"You shoulda stayed invisible, trash."

Later – Lunch

He tries again.Sits at an empty table, hoping someone joins. A new kid walks by—Trice offers a juice box.

The new kid stares at it.Then calls over the bullies.

"Yo, he's begging for friends again."

They drag Trice behind the gym. Slam him into the brick wall.

"You think this is a cartoon? Think people gonna like you if you just smile?"

A punch to the jaw.Another to the stomach.They spit on his shoes.

After School

He limps home.

His dad's passed out on the couch, skin pale.His mom's uniform is still on as she sleeps at the kitchen table, face buried in unopened bills.

Trice microwaves a cup of rice. Eats in silence. Goes to his room.His drawings are torn. His notebook's wet from the mud.

He tapes one page back together—the one of "Captain Trice," flying above a city.

He whispers to himself, voice barely a breath:

"Tomorrow… someone will talk to me. I'll try again."

He lays in bed, back aching, lip split, and still smiles at the ceiling.

A broken, tired smile.

Not because he's happy.Because that's all he has left.

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