"I only wish for my son to have a better future. I can't think of another way than this. Chris, do well at your new school, okay?"
He looked at the woman standing in front of him. She was in her late thirties, her hair in a neat bun. Her eyes with hope and fear at the same time.
Do well.
What did she mean?
He nodded.
At that time, screeching noises cut through them. Moving their eyes to the left side of the road, the bus had arrived.
Seeing the reality of parting, his chest tightened. He turned to her and said with a forced assurance, "I will do well, Mother."
He climbed onto the bus. Behind him, she stood frozen, her eyes filled with tears.
Inside, the bus was almost empty. He wanted to sit as soon as he got in, especially since the bus started immediately after he stepped in.
There were other teenagers, about five of them, sitting separately. They sat quietly, staring ahead or out the windows.
Unlike him, they were all dressed the same. Orange T-shirts and pants. On their chests were printed numbers, each different.
He frowned.
His mother had said uniforms would be given at school.
"Kid, aren't you going to sit?"
The voice came from the front.
He Shifted his eyes. A middle aged man sat behind the driver's seat, dressed in a blue uniform and a cap, in his arms a newspaper. He had seen such uniforms before.
His frown deepened. It couldn't be that he got on the wrong bus.
When he thought about it, it hit him. Outside the bus was written a single word, Correction. For what he knew, this was supposed to be a school bus.
The man raised his sharp eyes to him. "Is your name Christan Vance?"
He stiffened, then nodded. "Yes."
"She didn't tell you a couple of things," the man said calmly. "At least she told you you're going to Goldleaf High School."
He even knew his name. He even knew about going to that school.
Why had he never thought about it? Maybe his mother knew this man and asked him to drop him at his school.
"It'll take three hours to reach our destination," the man added.
Christan nodded again, though his thoughts raced. He placed his luggages in the compartment above and took a seat.
He sat quietly, and the journey went on.
After a moment, he pulled out his phone to dial his mother. His fingers froze on the screen. She finally got peace after those years. Why spoil it?
He put the phone away, slide on his headphones, played music, and patiently waited for the destination.
The bus was quiet. Other than the engine, no one bothered to talk with anyone else. It was like each one had thoughts of their own.
After about three hours of the journey, through the window, he saw a long brick wall and the iron gate with huge letters. Goldleaf High School.
The bus slowed and stopped near the gate. Like he was told, he was going to Goldleaf High School. He took a deep breath.
The guard threw his eyes inside the bus, inspecting it. When he thought everything was fine, he opened the gate.
As the bus passed through, Christan studied the surroundings. The area was isolated. A few scattered houses, hardly any people. Not even a shop in sight.
Inside the school, he couldn't see anything apart from trees. It was obvious the school was in a rural area. But it didn't matter to him whether it was in a town or not, as long as he graduated like his mother wanted.
The bus passed on a road aligned with blossoming trees, petals falling slowly. From afar, the mountain peak with ice on top of it. It was as if he could reach it, but he knew the distance was far.
He glanced back at the others, even the other kids who were apathetic at the start of the journey now shifted, their eyes drawn to the view outside.
A sports field, gardens, and houses which he guessed belonged to teachers.
He couldn't help but admit how stunning the school was.
Soon, the bus stopped at the huge building, bold letters at the top. Administration Block.
"You can get out."
He took his luggage and made his way outside. Reaching outside, at his side were classes with students inside, as it was still class hours.
The boys from the bus followed, each dragging a suitcase behind them. Christan watched them, confused.
Were they enrolling too?
The warden stood at the bus door and looked at them as they gathered together. "Listen carefully."
When he said that, there was only silence, and all looked at him.
"You are here because you want to correct your past mistakes. This won't be like the detentions you came from, but neither will it be a normal school."
Christan's eyes widened as he was totally confused, but he kept listening.
"This is a reform school. Remember, this school is your chance. Whatever choices you make are up to you. Fail here, and we will meet again."
As he spoke, his gaze briefly locked onto Christan, whose huge hazel eyes were widened in confusion and shock.
At that time, a woman came. "Come with me."
The other boys followed her without question, but Christan remained where he was.
He was beginning to understand why he was on such a bus.
This wasn't a normal school. He never bothered to ask nor do any research. He never agreed to a boarding school. Even so, it never crossed his mind that she would send him somewhere like this.
The school was special for straightening delinquents. That was a better explanation.
He moved his eyes to the words Administration Block. It was another way of detention. But why? He had never been arrested or sent to juvenile detention.
"Christan Vance."
Hearing his name, he looked back at the bus.
"Don't disappoint her."
Saying that, the warden walked back in. The bus started, and it left Christan where he was.
Still in disbelief, he took out his phone. His hands trembled with barely controlled anger and without hesitation, he dialed his mother.
It didn't take a moment, and the phone connected.
"Mother..." He called but remained silent.
His expression hardened, his voice dropped, cold and controlled. "I knew you were eager to get rid of me. But this… this was a surprise."
There was still silence.
"I'll keep my promise," he continued quietly. "I'll do well at this school. After all, I always do what you ask me to do."
Saying that, he hung up, and made his way to the office.