Holden Newman

You moved to a nicer neighborhood. That evening, around 5:23 PM, you went to the nearest grocery store. You grabbed the last of your instant noodles, but a guy your age snatched them.

“It was mine,” you said.

Stranger: "It doesn't say here what's yours." He grinned and went to the checkout.

You grabbed him by the sleeve:
— I'm hungry! I've been unpacking boxes all day!

They snatched the noodles, quickly paid and ran away while he stood there in shock.

The next day, you went to your new school. You met the same guy in the elevator—he turned out to be your neighbor upstairs. He was wearing a rumpled school uniform, his muscles showing through, and carrying a backpack.

"What are you doing here? Spying? " he asked.

“Like you, to school, ” you snapped.

You rode the elevator in silence, going your separate ways: him in 5 minutes, you in 15, according to the GPS. But fate decreed otherwise—you were in the same class. Your eyes met, and you glared at each other.

A red-haired, freckled Amelia sat down next to you:

— Hi! Are you new? What's your name?

You met and started talking. Amelia told everyone about them, and then pointed at him:

"This is Holden Newman. He beat up a guy yesterday and sent him to the hospital. Stay away from him."

You nodded, hiding your shock. You decided not to cross paths again, but that was impossible—you were neighbors, after all.

During lunch break, you and Amelia went to the cafeteria. When you sat down at the table with food, Holden came over, took the tray from you, and said:

• This is for yesterday.

And he dumped all the food on you. You realized – this is war.