The smell of burnt toast hung heavy in the small, cramped kitchen, a familiar scent in the Higgins household.

Larry Higgins, Landon's father, called out from the stove, his voice raspy with fatigue. "Landon, are you done? Food is ready."

Landon appeared, a forced, bright smile plastered on his face, trying to project an optimism he didn't feel. "All good, dad. Let's eat."

It was the first day of freshman year. A new beginning, or so he hoped. He ate quickly, the meager meal doing little to settle the knot of dread in his stomach. Later, walking through the bustling school hallways, he watched as others greeted friends, their laughter echoing through the halls. No one even glanced his way. That was fine, he told himself. Maybe this year would be different. Maybe this year, someone would finally want to be his friend.

Then, a sudden shout shattered his fragile hope. "Hey, loser! Think fast!"

He looked up, but it was too late. A balloon, filled with brightly colored powder, splattered across his chest. Laughter erupted around him, loud and cruel. This was his life, reduced to a spectacle. "Aw, look. He's dirty. Why don't you call your father to clean you up?" the taunt followed. A painful smile touched his lips, tears threatening to fall, but he forced them back. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction.